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just shoved you and ran off. But…the fact that it occurred at Alana’s studio has him worried, and me, too.”
    “You think it might be related to the past?”
    “Everyone does, although there’s no proof. You didn’t get a look at the guy?”
    “No.”
    “Concentrate, honey. Can you remember anything about him? His height? His weight? Maybe some detail about his clothes or his smell?”
    She wished she could, but it’d happened too fast. “No, nothing.”
    “What about his car?”
    “I didn’t realize he had a car, Dad. I didn’t see anyone behind me on the road, didn’t hear a vehicle approach. He must’ve followed at a distance and parked too far away.”
    “The sheriff said Isaac Morgan came to your rescue.”
    Again, Isaac’s passionate kiss, his hands on her body and his erection pressing against her legs flashed through her mind. Just when the memories of their nights together had grown tired and dim, she’d gone and created a fresh one. “Yes.”
    “How do you know he didn’t shove you to begin with?”
    “Because he’d have no reason to do that. And it’s not who he is.”
    “He never liked that you ended up with David.”
    He could’ve stopped it if he’d cared enough. “Believe me, that was no skin off his nose.”
    “But he watches you. I’ve seen him do it.”
    Her father had never mentioned this before. “What are you talking about? When does Isaac watch me?”
    “Whenever. He can’t keep his eyes off you. At the bar. At the café. At the grocery store. Anywhere you both happen to be.”
    That was because of their history. She watched him, too. She could feel his presence before she even saw him. “Trust me on this. It wasn’t Isaac. What we had didn’t mean anything to him. You know how he is with women. Anyway, the attack on me might’ve turned into more than just a shove if he hadn’t come running.” How else would he have gotten that terrible gash in his chest?
    “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s awfully convenient that he was right there.”
    “He lives close by.”
    “Not close enough to hear anything. And…Claire?”
    “Yes?”
    He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say next.
    “Dad?”
    He sighed. “It’s so hard to know what to reveal and what not to reveal.”
    Claire gripped the phone tighter. “There’s something you haven’t told me?”
    “It’s not directly connected to Alana going missing. I’m sure of that. But…I’ve often debated whether it would make things easier on you to know. And now that you’ve asked… I don’t want this eating away at you, sending you down the wrong path.”
    “Tell me.”
    “You asked about Leanne being out of school for three hours on the day your mother went missing.”
    A hard knot formed in Claire’s stomach. His manner worried her. “Yes?”
    “That did happen.”
    Leanne had just denied it. Initially, he’d denied it, too. “Then why’d you say—”
    “The question took me off guard,” he broke in. “I’m so used to protecting her, so used to minimizing the damage caused by that day, it’s become instinctive to lie about it.”
    Claire swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. There must be a reason you’d say she was out of school and keep saying it.”
    “Yes. And if you’re going to pursue this, you need to know what it is.”
    Whatever “it” was sounded pretty ominous. She took a shaky breath. “I’m listening.”
    “It wasn’t your mother who was…involved in some way with Joe Kenyon.”
    “Who was it?” Claire could barely make herself heard, but she must’ve spoken loudly enough because he responded with the name she’d suddenly guessed he was going to say.
    “Leanne.”
    “That can’t be true,” she said. “Leanne was only thirteen at the time. If…if Joe was molesting her, he should’ve been punished. Why would you lie to keep what he did a secret?”
    “Because he didn’t molest her. What happened wasn’t his fault.”
    Claire stared at the carpet,