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how the neglected Decatur boy had lived, and it reminded him of the pigsty where he’d finally found Miranda holed up, doing drugs. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to live in such filth. Every drug bust he made was a painful reminder of that horrible time, a big punch in the gut, because it made him question what kind of husband he had been.
    How could a man—especially one trained in law enforcement—not know his wife was a drug addict? Had he been that neglectful, that self-centered? They’d been high-school sweethearts, each other’s first love, or so he had believed, and she’d run away from him instead of working out their problems.
    Thank God they’d never had any children. Finding the little boy in that…he wouldn’t call it a home…prison cell, hiding in fear amid the filth and neglect, suffering from God only knew what horrors, was almost too much for Jarod.
    The way Avery and Luanne had ignored their child was incomprehensible. The boy could have been a stray dog, for all they had cared. Jarod didn’t understand how someone could forget their own flesh and blood like that.
    Family was everything to Jarod, and his father had made damn sure that his sons understood that family was the most important thing in the world. He had taught Jarod that honor, integrity, and standing up for those who were unable to stand on their own were duties. And there was nothing more precious than a child.
    Jarod strongly believed that there was a special place in hell for parents like Avery and Luanne. Jarod sincerely hoped that the boy would be placed in a good home and not lost in bureaucratic red tape. Jarod would do everything in his power to see that the Decaturs never got their little boy back, even if it meant going to every parole hearing they had until their sentences were up.
    Jarod contemplated all of this on his way to work the next morning. The small amount of snow that had stuck to the ground last night had been gone before the morning commute had begun. It should be a relatively calm day for traffic, thank God.
    He wasn’t looking forward to any drama when he entered his office, but, alas, Marguerite was waiting for him when he walked through the door.
    “How bad was it out there, Jarod?” she asked without preamble. She must’ve really been starving for information.
    “’Bout what you’d expect from two lowlifes who cared more about getting high than caring for their kid,” he said without looking at her as he cruised through the break-room door, effectively cutting her off.
    “Hey.”
    Lauren was sitting at the break table eating her yogurt. Her blue eyes were soft with concern.
    “Hey,” he replied, a little chagrined. He hadn’t meant to dump on her yesterday; it wasn’t his way.
    Seeing his regret, she immediately slipped into her professional persona. “The Decatur reports are typed and ready for your signature. I’ve put them on your desk. A public defender was sent over to conference with the couple for their arraignment hearing.”
    She stood and threw her empty yogurt container away.
    He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
    She was wearing a pretty red dress this morning that seemed to emphasize her amazing figure. His gaze drifted to her bare legs, which gave him a shock. Wasn’t she cold? The heating system in the building worked well, but she still had to walk from the parking lot to the building, and this morning’s weather was brisk and damp from yesterday’s storm. The sky was blue, and the weatherman had promised the temperatures would rise back up to the low sixties this afternoon. Maybe she was banking on the warmer temps today.
    “Is there a problem with my legs?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
    Startled to have been caught ogling his secretary, he jerked his eyes back to hers. Seeing the humor in her baby blues, he smirked and said, “Absolutely none, Ms. Lockwood.”
    Giggling, she said, “There is no way in hell that I am calling you Mr. Grey .”
    He had