Her heart swelled and she got up from her chair, pulled her son to his feet and embraced him. Tears ran down her face and she felt his frightened sobs against her shoulder. “You don’t ever have to worry about taking care of me, Stephen. I’m the one who does the taking-care-of around here. It’s my job. It’s what I want to do.” She stared at J.D. over her son’s shoulder. “I’m in charge, honey,” she whispered, kissing Stephen’s temple and feeling the scratch of new whiskers against her chin.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry,” J.D. said. Leaning against the counter, his long legs stretched in front of him, his hands at his sides supporting his weight against the counter’s edge, he looked damnably sexy, but Tiffany told herself she was immune. Never again would he get to her. “The police have zeroed in on the Deans. No one knows for sure what’s happening with Isaac Wells yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I called Jarrod Smith and he’s working on the case independently. My guess is that the old man will turn up in a few days.”

“You think Ray Dean’s held him hostage?”

“Possibly.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Not yet” He pushed himself upright. “The important thing is Stephen is out of it. His testimony will lead the police in the right direction. Pearson called his juvenile counselor and in light of the situation—that he was coerced, but then came clean—the local authorities will talk to a judge and expunge any charges, no matter how minor, against Stephen.”

Tiffany’s heart lightened. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks.”

“J.D. did it,” Stephen said with something akin to awe for his uncle in his voice. “He’s the one that insisted I get a break because of all this.”

“Is that right?” She looked at the man before her with new eyes.

“I have taken my share of criminal law,” he admitted, “though it was a long time ago.”

“I guess I owe you a debt of thanks.”

“Do you?” He pulled the wrinkled documents from his pocket and she stiffened. The note.

“Listen, honey, why don’t you go up to your room?” Tiffany said to her son. “Uncle Jay and I have something to discuss.”

“What?” Stephen demanded, looking from one to the other. “What?”

“It’s personal,” Tiffany said. “I’ll explain later.”

Stephen hesitated, but J.D. nodded. “Go on up. This’ll only take a minute or two.”

Not certain, Stephen started for the swinging doors. He paused just as he reached them, then studied the floor for a few seconds. “Does this have anything to do with me?”

“No!” they said in unison.