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and handed her over. The police never held her mother long enough. She’d get out of jail, pretend to turn her life around, and then the social workers would give Kate right back to her, and the beatings would start all over again.
    She drew a deep breath and shook off the lingering anger and sadness. No sense reliving old trouble from the past. The past wasn’t going to define her. She refused to allow it. Her life would be whatever she made it, as soon as Asael was caught, and she could go back home.
    She looked toward the window. The morning light streaming in wasn't much at 7:30 in the middle of winter, the sky still mostly dark. She’d meant to use the night to come up with a brilliant plan. That didn't happen. She’d been dead on her feet after a double shift at the diner. Angie’s daughter had a fever so Angie couldn’t come in. Eight hours of running around and serving meals was tough, sixteen was murder.
    Kate slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. After she’d gone into hiding, she’d picked a dark auburn color with a fair amount of red and let her hair grow below her shoulders, the opposite of the beach blond pixie cut of her previous life.
    She’d changed her clothing, too, her style. Her colorful California shorts and tank tops had given way to neutral colors and denim, suburban housewife capris in the summer. She shaped her eyebrows to change their angle, used eyeliner to change the shape of her eyes. She’d put on a pound or two and wouldn’t have minded a few more, just enough to change her body shape a little.
    Her gaze dropped from her face to her torso in the mirror.
    Oh. She winced. Had she walked around in front of Murphy Dolan like this last night?  
    Her nightgown had been selected because it was small and light-weight, a convenience for packing since she moved a lot. She hadn’t planned on anyone seeing her in it.
    The thin material showed a clear outline of her body.
    Maybe he hadn’t noticed.
    And if he had…she closed her eyes for a second. She had bigger things to worry about right now.
    Forget last night. Get dressed. Get to work.
    She hurried back to the bedroom and yanked on her uniform: tan skirt, white top, then checked the FBI’s home page on her tablet, her usual morning ritual.
    She stared at Rauch Asael’s image on the Most Wanted page for a second, at the grainy photo taken by a hidden camera at her funeral service. They hadn’t caught him yet. If they had, he’d be off the list. She swallowed her disappointment and shut the tablet down.
    She lived for the day when his picture would be gone, the man finally in custody, so she could go home to her family at last. She wanted to cook with her mother again, tease her father about not letting anyone else ride the lawnmower, and listen as Emma shared her secrets about boys with all the drama of a teenager.
    Of course, Emma was no longer a teen. She was almost twenty one now. Kate blinked.
    With everything she was, she wanted to return. But since that day wasn’t today, she had to figure out a way to get Murphy Dolan to let her keep her lease. Arguing with him wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by her. He hadn’t been intimidated when she’d held a gun on him. And, in any case, you caught more flies with sugar than vinegar.
    Except, she wasn’t looking to influence flies. She was looking to influence a cop. Doughnuts? She didn’t have that, but she could certainly make him breakfast. She unlocked the bedroom door, stepped out into the hallway and hurried forward, putting on a confident smile. “Hey.”
    Murph was sitting at the kitchen table, staring bleary-eyed at a cup of coffee, wearing camouflage cargo pants and a standard-issue army T-shirt. The overhead lights glinted off his biceps and chiseled forearms.
    Okay. Wow. Now that it wasn’t the middle of the night and she wasn’t scared to death, she could