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his carefully laid plans, his fanatical attention to details, were about to be upended by the unexpected return of his nemesis.
    And he was already putting moves on Rachel.
    Like always. Caleb wanted everything he had, and he destroyed without conscience. From Murph, the stray mutt he’d bought for a dollar at a school fair, to Libba, with her pale, pale skin and her beautiful curtain of blond hair. Caleb had taken them and destroyed them, and if he wasn’t careful he would do the same with Rachel.
    And Sophie. The thought of him going anywhere near the girl made him shake with anger, and it took all his effort to calm himself. He had to be very careful. Thoughtful and measured. Emotions led to mistakes, and he hadn’t made a mistake in decades.
    Why had he shown up now, on today of all days? He had to suspect something—thirty-five years of being a scapegoat would have gotten him thinking, and his brother was smart enough. Why now?
    He took a deep, calming breath. Caleb’s unexpected return could be put to good use, if he just stopped to think about it for long enough. There were clues, hints that had led to him all along, from Murph’s distorted body to Libba’s accident and eventual disappearance. If he was careful enough, clever enough, all would work out as it should.
    It would require perfect timing, detailed planning. And above all, supreme self-control. Caleb wouldn’t like that, had always liked to get under his skin, and he hadn’t changed. He would go after Rachel, do his best to steal her away, fill her head full of lies.
    But Rachel would never believe those lies. Rachel was his shining beacon, his hope for the future. She was the normal, happy life that fulfilled him and brought him to completion. She had brought him life, and most of all, she had brought him Sophie. During the last few months he had found a kind of transcendent peace insulating him from everything, making him feel powerful and untouchable, knowing that everything was finally as it should be. He’d made a brief miscalculation with Jessica, a slip of his usual self-control. Notenough to put him in any danger, but the timing was unfortunate.
    And then there was Sophie. She was a different matter. Caleb had never liked young girls, and Sophie was years younger than any of those who had died. With any luck, Caleb wouldn’t even notice Rachel’s pure young daughter, never suspect his brother’s patience.
    He would wait. Caleb would leave, bored, and then all his detailed plans would come to fruition, with no interference from his despised older brother.
    If Caleb didn’t leave, well, he’d already made arrangements for that eventuality. With so many clues leading straight to Caleb’s door Maggie Bannister wouldn’t be able to catch her breath.
    No, there was no need to overreact. What was his favorite prayer? All would be well, all manner of things would be well.
    And he started to whistle once more.

3
    R achel drove home through the light rain, her hands gripping the steering wheel, Caleb Middleton’s words ringing in her ears. She’d never been the nervous type—a woman alone with a child in tow couldn’t afford to be hesitant and she’d always believed she could deal with any disaster.
    And she had. Floods, uprisings, being stranded, being followed. She’d met those dangers and more and been secure in her ability to deal with everything. Everything but a brutal murder in their tight-knit community in San Francisco, a murder which had struck too close to home.
    Thank God David had showed up when he did. An English professor on sabbatical, a sane, calm oasis in the aftermath of Tessa’s murder. He radiated safety and normalcy, the kind of man who’d provide the life she’d selfishly denied Sophie. For years they’d traveled the world, and she never realized that she was depriving her daughter of anychance at stability. Sure, she’d given