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  “Sounded like a F.A.S.T. client from this end of the conversation.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what were you saying about—”

  “Drop it.” Mason loaded the words with warning.

  Caleb lifted his head and spoke toward the ceiling. “Lord, please help my Brother to heal from whatever is causing him to be such a jerk.”

  Oh, for cryin’ out loud. This habit of praying at the drop of a hat was really starting to get to him. Mason stood, snatched up his mug and slung cooled coffee into the sink. “If you must pray, there’s a closet in your room.”

  He might as well not have spoken. Caleb ignored him. “If that was a F.A.S.T. call, then you just turned down a new client without even consulting the rest of us.”

  Mason dropped into his chair and heaved an exasperated sigh. “It wasn’t a new client. It was an old friend.”

  The big man’s eyebrows rose. “You turned down an old friend?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Caleb wasn’t going to let this go until he needled the information out of him. “All right, here’s the scoop. An old girlfriend’s kid brother has gotten into trouble. He’s facing a murder rap, and she swears he’s innocent. Wants me to drop everything and hop a plane to Albuquerque.” He forced a hollow-sounding laugh. “That’s messed up, isn’t it?”

  Caleb’s brows creased as he thought. “Do you think the boy did it?”

  “How would I know? I haven’t seen him in four years.” An image of a skinny, dark haired Hispanic boy with oversized front teeth rose in his mind. “He used to be a good kid,” he admitted, “but a lot can change between ten and fourteen years old.”

  “What about your girlfriend?” Caleb’s deep voice became soft. “Can you trust her judgment?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” The words fired across his tongue like bullets leaving a 357. “She’s my ex-fiancée.” He snapped his mouth shut. Great. Now he’d busted open the vault, and exposed a glimpse of his ugly past.

  “Aha.” The big man rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “Now we’re getting somewhere. This isn’t just a simple case. It’s a matter of the heart.”

  “You’re wrong. I have no heart.”

  The big man’s laughter filled the small room. “Oh, you have a heart all right. It’s hard as granite, but it’s there. And if you ask me, you have a soft spot in there for Karina and her kid brother. Deep down, you want to help them. The only reason you said no is because you’re afraid.”

  Now it was Mason’s turn to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Afraid of what?”

  Caleb’s answer was agonizingly soft. “Ghosts.”

  A twist in the vicinity of Mason’s chest affirmed the truth. He was afraid of ghosts. Not his deceased wife’s. The ghosts that haunted him from Albuquerque were harsh, ugly and painful. The heartbreak of loss. The agony of loneliness. The guilt of the pain he’d caused Karina.

  And the ghost of a killer who still walked the streets.

  “Some ghosts need to be confronted.” Caleb leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “Otherwise they never stop haunting.”

  Much as he hated to admit it, Mason knew his friend was right. It was time.

  TWO

  Karina blotted tears from her eyes and tossed the damp tissue into the wastebasket with the others. It had taken every ounce of courage she could muster to make that phone call to Mason. Did he have any idea how hard it was for her to ask for help?

  Red numbers glowed from the face of the DVD player in her small entertainment center. Almost seven o’clock Monday morning. If she was going to work, she should be dressed and ready to go. She held out a hand and watched her fingers tremble. Nobody would trust her with a pair of sharp shears near their heads today. How could she cut hair when Alex had been in juvy—the nickname for the juvenile justice center—for over forty-eight hours, and she was no closer to getting him out?

  She snatched another tissue from the box when a fresh onslaught of tears threatened. Asking Mason for help had been a long shot anyway. Of course he wouldn’t help her, but she thought maybe he would consider helping Alex. They’d been buddies back before… Her mind skirted over the miserable weeks that had marked the end of her engagement.

  Maybe if Mason had stayed with her, Alex wouldn’t be in this mess now. He would have had a strong role model to look up to after their father had passed away. He wouldn’t have gotten involved with…

  With what? What had Alex gotten into? Was he involved in drugs and gangs, as the police said? And if so, how had she missed the signs?

  Karina paced into the kitchen and poured cold coffee into a mug. Day-old coffee didn’t sound appealing, but she had to do something with her hands or she might start pulling her hair out. She set the mug in the microwave, punched a button and watched as the mug revolved inside. A sob threatened, but she choked it back before it could escape.

  Okay. She had to get hold of herself, clear her mind. Sitting around the apartment crying wouldn’t help Alex. She had to do something. But what? Since Mason wouldn’t help her, who would?

  A lawyer? She’d told Mason the truth when she’d said she couldn’t afford to hire an attorney. A hair stylist with custody of a teenager didn’t have a lot of extra money for things like lawyers. Sometimes she barely had enough to keep the lights on. She would gladly take out a loan to pay for a top-notch attorney, but she had nothing to use as collateral. Her car was worth less than she owed and she rented her apartment. So that meant Alex would have a public defender assigned, and all she could do was pray that it would be a good one.

  But it might be several days before he got a lawyer. The officer at juvy had told her the court’s dockets were usually booked solid early in the week, so it could be Tuesday or even later before the judge reviewed Alex’s case.

  The microwave beeped and shut off. Well, that was one thing she could do. She could be waiting at the juvenile justice center when the offices opened, and demand that her brother’s case be reviewed today. It might not do any good, but it was something.

  With the decision came a sense of purpose. Anything was better than sitting around the apartment crying. She opened the microwave door and dumped the steaming stale coffee in the sink, then headed toward her bedroom. A dress would make her look more professional than slacks, and she’d tame her thick mass of hair back into something respectable looking. If she could make a good impression on the judge, maybe he would give Alex the best free lawyer available.

  Her phone rang, and she altered her path to retrieve it from the sofa where she’d dropped it. A glance at the screen stopped her in her tracks. Mason’s number.

  “Mason?” She hated the way her voice quivered when she spoke his name.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” His words were clipped, abrupt. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Pick me up at the airport at nine-fifteen.”

  The line went dead.

  Hope inflated like a balloon in her chest and crowded the breath from her lungs. Mason was coming. But why? She stared at the receiver in her hand. What changed his mind? It couldn’t have anything to do with her. She was bitterly certain of that. He must have reconsidered because of Alex.

  “Gracias a Dios,” she whispered. Help for any reason was better than no help at all.

  Her step lighter, she turned once again toward the bedroom. A sight outside her living room window stopped her. A dark car was parked there, longways in the parking lot, blocking her little red Toyota sedan. The driver’s door stood open, and a man stood on the pavement, his muscular arms folded across the hood. He didn’t move, but stood still, facing her way. Though his eyes were concealed by dark sunglasses, Karina felt intensity in the gaze turned toward her front window. Toward her.

  A glance at the doorknob showed the lock engaged, the deadbolt in place. Drawn by a sort of horri
fied fascination, she inched closer to the window. Could he see her through the blinds?

  With one finger she pushed down on one of the metal slats and bent it to get a better look at him. When she did, she felt those invisible eyes fixed on her. An icy chill slid up her spine.

  The man’s head dipped once, as though acknowledging her. Then he slid into the car, slammed the door and sped away.

  It was a long time before Karina managed to lift a fear-numbed hand and screw the blinds tightly shut.

  THREE

  The nonstop flight from Atlanta to Albuquerque lasted over three and a half hours, plenty of time for Mason to regret his change of heart. Actually he’d regretted it thirty seconds after he’d hung up from Karina yesterday, but Caleb had refused to let him call back and rescind the offer of help. To make matters worse, Caleb had called Brent, the third member of F.A.S.T., to come over last night to help badger him. No amount of protesting on Mason’s part had made a difference. Lauren, Brent’s wealthy wife, even rebuffed his claims that he couldn’t afford the trip and insisted on picking up the tab for the pro bono work. Some friends they were.

  On top of everything else the only seat available on the flight at the last minute was in the middle, between a talkative woman on her way to visit her grandson—with the pictures to prove it—and a sleeping businessman who snored the whole time. The plane bounced its way through choppy air during the last hour of the flight and Mason spilled coffee on his white shirt.

  So when he exited the aircraft at Albuquerque International, he was already in a foul mood. He scanned the crowd waiting outside of the security gate. If Karina wasn’t here, he’d march straight over to the ticket counter and use his credit card to book a same-day ticket back home. He halfway hoped she wouldn’t show.

  A waving hand snagged his gaze. Beneath the slender arm he caught sight of a familiar face framed by a shining mass of thick, black hair.

  He nearly dropped his carry-on bag. The woman looked like Karina, but when had she become so gorgeous?

  His feet must have kept moving, because in the next moment he was standing in front of her, searching the beautiful face turned up to his. Though she’d matured into a stunning woman, she was the same old Karina. Same dark eyes. Same adorable nose. Same full lips. He swallowed against a throat gone dry with the sudden assault of the memory of those lips on his.

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “Thank you for coming, Mason.”

  He meant to say “You’re welcome.” When he opened his mouth, those were the words his brain instructed his tongue to speak. Instead, out came a sarcastic quip, fueled by the stirring of unwelcome feelings. “I had nothing important planned for the next few days anyway.”

  The tears dried in an instant. Those soft lips tightened, and her shoulders stiffened. “Meaning Alex and I are not important?” Anger made her voice sharp.

  Oops. Not what he meant at all. Why in the world did he always speak before he thought? On the other hand, what did she expect? An open-armed reception, as if the past four years had never happened? As if Margie had never happened?

  But that wasn’t her fault.

  He softened his tone. “I’m sorry. It’s just that there are a lot of memories here, you know?”

  The anger melted off her face, replaced with a gentle gaze that was much harder to take. “I know.”

  The tenderness in her tone stirred up uncomfortable feelings in him. The only way he could handle returning to the place where Margie died was by donning a thick layer of sarcasm and indifference. But the one person who could always cut through that armor was standing in front of him.

  He glanced at the escalator. The ticket counters were one floor up. All he had to do was whip out a credit card and blow this place. Coming here was a bad idea yesterday, and it was still a bad idea today. No matter what Caleb said, sometimes it was best to leave the ghosts in their graves.

  Karina followed his gaze and her arms rose to wrap around her middle. He recognized the gesture from years ago. Whenever she was upset, or insecure, or frightened, that’s what she did.

  An emotion he preferred to ignore stirred him at the sight. With a final glance toward the escalator, he shouldered his carry-on bag.

  “How soon can you get me in to talk to Alex?”

  * * *

  When they brought Alex into the visitation room at the juvenile justice center, Mason got his second shock of the day. The ten-year-old kid had grown into his oversized teeth. Alex was a hulking teenager, a couple of inches taller than Mason’s five-ten and a good ten pounds heavier than him. It was almost impossible to see the skinny kid in this slightly chunky young man, except for a strong resemblance to his petite older sister.

  “Alex, you’ve grown up,” Mason managed as they shook hands.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stooped to hug Karina, who embraced her brother with obvious emotion. “How are you, baby? Are you eating? Is the food good here?”

  Alex held on to her for a long moment, then released her. “It’s okay.”

  He dropped into a molded plastic orange chair, one of four in an otherwise empty visiting room. Karina scooted another one near, so she could sit close. Mason dragged a third chair away from the wall and positioned it so he could face both of them. On the other side of the long glass half-wall a guard sat behind a high counter watching with a dispassionate expression. When Alex reached over and grabbed his sister’s hand, Mason’s heart warmed. The kid who adored his big sister was still in there.

  “Alex, Mason flew here from Atlanta to help us.” Karina flashed a hopeful smile toward Mason. “He’s a private investigator now, so he knows how to find proof that you didn’t kill José.”

  The news had a surprising impact on the kid. His eyes widened for a moment as he looked at Mason, then his brows dropped into a frown. He released his sister’s hand, folded his arms across his chest and scooted down in his seat, the picture of a sullen teenager.

  “I don’t need anybody’s help. I told you, I’ll be fine.”

  Interesting. Mason studied his body language. Closed up tight, just like his sister. Probably for the same reason, to protect himself from vulnerability. Only Mason detected a hint of something else in the way the kid’s chin dropped and his shoulders hunched forward. He knew enough about body language to recognize that Alex was afraid of something. But what?

  “Yes, you do.” Karina slipped a hand inside the kid’s arm and gave it a gentle tug. “Mason has experience with people who are charged with crimes they didn’t commit, just like you.”

  Mason folded one leg across the other and asked casually, “You didn’t do it, did you?”

  Alex didn’t quite meet his eyes. “No. But I’m gonna get a lawyer, and he’ll prove it.”

  “That’s great. But since I came all the way from Atlanta would you at least tell me what happened?” He leaned back in his chair and waited.

  Alex stared at the floor, considering. Karina drew a breath to speak, but Mason warned her with a glance to keep quiet. Something was going on with this kid, and he didn’t want to push him too hard.

  “Okay. I guess.” He looked up, but his gaze still didn’t connect with Mason’s. “Me and my friend José were hanging out, you know? We weren’t doing nothing wrong.” He glanced sideways at Karina. “We should have stayed at José’s house, like we were supposed to, but we got bored. So we were walking and talking, and we were cutting through this alley when a guy jumps out and points a gun at us. He wanted money, but we told the guy we do
n’t have any, and he starts yelling at us, like, ‘I know you do. Hand it over.’”

  Karina looked startled. She glanced at Mason, an unreadable message in her eyes, but kept quiet. He made a mental note to ask her later.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “The next thing I knew, there was a shot, and José fell backward on the ground. I was standing there, looking at him, when the guy shoved the gun in my hand and took off.” Alex finally looked up, and held Mason’s gaze. “I didn’t kill José. Honest.”

  That was the first truthful comment out of the boy’s mouth. Mason had studied interrogation techniques, and he felt sure everything Alex had said up until now was a lie. Oh, there might be a shred of truth in there somewhere, but it was buried pretty deep.

  “And the blood on your clothes?” he asked, careful to keep any hint of suspicion out of his voice.

  “José’s. He was still alive.” Tears glimmered in his eyes. “He was crying, help me, help me. I tried to pick him up, to carry him out of that alley to get help, but—” his throat moved as he swallowed “—he died.”

  Agony sounded in Alex’s tortured voice. How well Mason recognized that emotion. He leaned forward and placed a hand briefly on the boy’s knee. “I’m sorry. I know how hard that must have been.”

  Karina sniffed and wiped her eyes with a hand. “And then you came home?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t know where else to go. I should have stayed there and called 911, but I was scared.” He averted his gaze again, and leaned back slightly in his chair, away from Mason and Karina both. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll work it out.”

  Mason started to ask how Alex planned to work things out from jail without help, but Karina beat him to it. “How can you say that? You’re in juvy. You need help from anyone who will give it to you.”