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girlfriend, nineteen-year-old Felicia Newman, disappeared. When foul play was suspected and several young men were interrogated, Josh was quick to point the finger at Matt, claiming he had heard the couple argue. Fred Baxter, the chief of police at the time, had no choice but to bring his son in for questioning. A few days later, Dusty Colburn, a mentally retarded man with a crush on Felicia, was arrested, and Matt was cleared.

    The unfortunate incident had left the town bewildered and unsettled, with a handful of people not completely convinced that the right man had been arrested. And while no one believed that the chief’s son was the culprit, Josh’s unfounded accusations had taught Matt one important lesson: New Hope wasn’t big enough for the two of them. When Josh announced that he was planning to join the New Hope police force, Matt decided he should be the one to leave. Two months later, he was entering the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia.

    After his graduation from the FBI Academy, the news that a hometown boy was now a federal agent kept the town abuzz for weeks. Jealous of the attention Matt was getting, Josh, by then a rookie with the New Hope PD, applied for a job with Interpol, the international police force that specialized in global crimes. But although Police Chief Baxter gave the young officer a good report, it wasn’t good enough to be accepted into that elite organization.

    Angry and bitter, Josh had nonetheless put up a good front, but Matt knew that deep down, he blamed Fred for ruining this unique opportunity. His animosity may have tapered off when Fred recommended him for the position of chief a year ago, but with Josh, it was hard to say.

    George Renchaw had done equally well. A corporate attorney with a large New York City firm for many years, he had left his job and returned to New Hope, where he still practiced law while serving a second term as mayor. There were rumors that he was being considered for a higher office, but nothing had been officially announced. As for Matt, after twenty-one years with the bureau, he was now a special agent based in Philadelphia, where he headed the antiterrorism task force.

    Flashing lights in Matt’s rearview mirror ended his trip down memory lane. He pulled to the side, slowing just enough to let the police cruiser pass, but the car slid behind him, lights still flashing.

    Matt brought his Jeep Durango to a stop and glanced in the rearview mirror. Josh, looking fit in his dark-blue pants and shirt, got out of the car and walked toward the Jeep, taking his time.

    “Great,” Matt muttered under his breath. And immediately reminded himself to be civil.

    “Hello, Matt. Welcome home.” Josh tilted his hat back and smiled, bracing his big hands on the window’s edge. He looked the same as he had a year ago, when he had attended Fred’s retirement party—tall, fit and in control.

    “Is this a personal welcome, Chief?” Matt said casually. “Or was I going over the speed limit?” Surely that was civil enough.

    “Actually I’m tempted to ticket you for going under the speed limit. What’s the matter? The signs aren’t written big enough for you?”

    Matt kept his smile pasted on. “I was just taking in the scenery. A year is a long time to be away.”

    “Well, like I said, you’re always welcome here.”

    Matt refrained from telling him that welcome or not, he didn’t need his permission to visit. “I’d like to stay and chat,” he said instead. “But I’m anxious to see my father. So if you don’t mind—”

    “What makes you think that I’m going to let you see him?”

    Matt took a breath and counted to five. “It’s his right to have visitors. Or haven’t you read that part of the manual yet?” He probably shouldn’t have said that, but dammit, the bastard had it coming.

    “He’s been charged with murder one,” Josh said. “Which significantly alters his rights, but since I’m a good guy, I’m going to let