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police radio. In the back seat, Stephanie stared out the window, her face pulled into a sullen mask Erin couldn't begin to read.
    "It looks like Mrs. Thornsberry's home."
    Nick's voice jerked Erin from her reverie. She looked over at him just as he turned the Suburban down a gravel drive lined on both sides by a white rail fence. Ahead, a white frame house with black shutters and a wraparound porch beckoned. Erin wasn't sure where she'd expected Nick Ryan to live, but it wasn't here. The home spread out before her looked like a happy place where children played and adults barbecued in the backyard. But on closer inspection, she noticed the signs that no children had played in this yard for quite some time. A swing set sat like an abandoned ship in a sea of lush grass. A basketball hoop mounted above the garage door was rusty, its netting torn and swinging in the breeze.
    Erin smiled when she noticed the spotted horse grazing next to the rail fence. "Whose horse?" she asked, hoping to land on a subject that would brighten Stephanie's mood.
    "That's Bandito," the little girl replied. "He's an Appaloosa."
    "He's beautiful," Erin said. "Do you ride?"
    "I used to be in 4-H and show in western pleasure and trail." Stephanie sighed. "But I don't anymore."
    "How come?"
    A sound of disgust emanated from the back seat. "As if you haven't noticed, my legs aren't exactly strong enough to stay in the stirrups."
    Turning in her seat, Erin smiled at her. "Have you ever heard of therapeutic horseback riding?"
    The little girl studied her with soft, intelligent eyes that held a lot more interest than she was letting on with her responses. "No."
    "That's where kids with disabilities ride horses, work out their muscles and, basically, have a lot of fun."
    "My dad says we're going to retire Bandito."
    Erin risked a look at Nick. "Have you checked with her doc— "
    " Steph is concentrating most of her time on physical therapy," Nick said firmly, then looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at her. "Aren't you, honeybunch?"
    "Yeah, but I still miss Bandito," she said.
    Deciding it might be a good idea to steer the conversation away from the riding aspect of horse ownership, Erin tried another approach. "Well, since you don't ride anymore, Steph , maybe you could just show him to me one of these days."
    "Bandito doesn't like strangers," the little girl said.
    Nick shot his daughter another look in the rearview mirror as he parked the truck. "That's enough, Steph . Deputy McNeal is trying to be friendly."
    "Well, she keeps asking dumb questions."
    He shut down the engine and opened his door, terminating a conversation Erin wished she'd never started. She got out of the truck, and watched as Nick unloaded the wheelchair. He opened the rear passenger door, scooped the little girl into his arms and set her in the chair.
    "I don't mind waiting out here," Erin said quickly, when he started for the house.
    Nick paused and frowned at her. "You may as well come in. Mrs. Thornsberry will want to meet you."
    "Mrs. Thornsberry ?"
    "Stephanie's nanny."
    "Oh." Feeling awkward, Erin fell into step beside him as he wheeled his daughter toward the front door. Being a cop in
Logan
Falls
was definitely going to be different than being a cop in Chicago .
    The farmhouse was set on several acres. A big maple tree shaded the side yard. Beyond, a small barn with Dutch doors and an adjacent circular pen stood as if in testimony that Bandito had once led a very busy life. The fact that Stephanie no longer rode her horse bothered Erin . Childhood was precious and she didn't want to see this little girl miss out on any of it.
    The front door swung open. "Nick? Stephanie? For goodness sakes, what are you doing home this time of day?" A short, round woman with graying hair and bifocals greeted them with a maternal smile. "Do we have a guest?"
    "This is Deputy McNeal." Nick looked at Erin . "This is Mrs. Thornsberry ."
    Relief trembled through Erin that Stephanie and Nick had