Mia took a long drag from the bottle, then went to her kitchen cabinet and pulled out… the box.lt was a simple wooden box, no decoration or labels. It was incredible that such a little box could hold so much hurt. She put it down in front of Dana. "Ta-da."

"Why do I feel like Pandora?" Dana murmured and lifted the lid. "Oh, Mia." She lifted her eyes, understanding now. "At least now you know. About the boy, anyway."

"I found the box in Bobby's closet when I was pulling together clothes to bury him in. I didn't open it until I got home from the cemetery. I was going to put his shield in it."

With great ceremony the shield had been presented to her mother at Bobby Mitchell "s graveside, lying atop the flag that had draped his coffin. Her face haggard and worn, Annabelle Mitchell had turned and placed them in Mia's hands. Too stunned to react, Mia had accepted them. The tri-folded flag was now propped up against her toaster. The flag probably had Pop-Tart crumbs in its folds, but apart from a reluctance to dirty an American flag, it was hard to care.

She pointed at the box with her bottle. "Instead, I found that."

Dana pulled the photo from the box. "Damn, Mia. He looks just your baby pictures."

Mia's laugh was hollow. "Bobby had some powerful genes." She walked around to look over Dana's shoulder at the chubby-faced boy sitting in a little wooden rocking chair, a red truck clutched in his fist. The boy she'd never seen, although she now knew his name. His birthday. And his death day. "That should look like my baby picture. That's our rocking chair, mine and Kelsey's. Bobby had our pictures taken in it, too."

"How tacky." Dana's words were bland, but her mouth was set in a firm line. "But then we knew that about him."

Only Dana knew. Dana and Kelsey. And perhaps Mia's mother. Mia wasn't entirely sure what her mother knew. She stared at the little boy's face. "He has Bobby's blond hair and blue eyes, just like me. And like her, whoever the hell she is."

"You've spent the last two weeks trying to find her. I thought you would."

She was the stranger Mia had seen at her father's burial. A young woman with blond hair and round blue eyes… just like mine. For one brief instant it had been like looking in a mirror. Then the woman had dropped her eyes and disappeared into the crowd of cops paying their final respects. After the burial service Dana had searched the crowd, leaving Mia to accept the respects of each and every cop there.

That had been the hardest part of the whole sham. Nodding soberly to each uniform as they grasped her hand, told her in hushed tones that her father had been a good cop. A good man. How could everyone on God's earth have been so damn snowed?

When the last uniform was gone and Mia stood alone with her mother she'd lifted her eyes to Dana who'd shaken her head. The woman was gone. One look at her mother's face had told her all she'd needed to know. Annabelle Mitchell had seen her, too. But unlike Mia, her mother hadn't seemed the least bit surprised. And like so many times in her life, her mother's eyes had shuttered. She was unwilling to discuss the woman, the little boy. The damn headstone, //smc liam

CHARLES MITCHELL, BELOVED SON.

"I'm glad you saw her, too. Otherwise I might be on the shrink's couch right now."

"You didn't imagine her, Mia. She was there."

Mia finished off the beer. "Yep. I know. Then and later."

Dana's eyes widened. "She came back?"

"A few times. She never speaks, just looks at me. I'm never close enough to grab her. I swear this is driving me crazy, Dana. And I know my mother knows who she is."

"But she won't tell you."

"Nope. Good old Annabelle. I did get her to tell me about the boy." She set the beer down, its taste suddenly bitter. "I've got to tell Kelsey. She needs to know."

The last time she'd spoken with her sister had been the day their father died, through the Plexiglas as she always did.

Mia never asked for any special visitation with her sister. Having the other inmates know Keisey Mitchell's sister was a cop would not be in Kelsey's best interest.

Kelsey needed to know what she'd found. Maybe she could finally find peace.

"I can go tell her," Dana offered.

"No. It's my responsibility. But thanks. I'll have to fit it in. I got a new case today."

"With who?"

Mia studied her bottle carefully. "With Reed Solliday. Arson."

Dana's brows lifted, knowing her moods well. "And?"

"Seems like a nice guy. Not married. Fourteen-year-old kid. Moves like a dancer."

"I never understood how that was such a turn-on for you."

Mia chuckled ruefully. "Me, either. Good thing he's off limits."

"You said he wasn't married."

She sobered. "I also said he was a nice guy."

Dana made a frustrated sound. "Mia, you piss me off."

"I don't mean to."

Dana sighed. "I know. So… What will you do with the box?"

"I don't know." Her mouth twisted. "I put my dogtags in it."

Dana's eyes dropped to her chest. "Then why are you wearing them now?"

Mia fingered the chain around her neck. "Because once I put them in the box, I couldn't sleep. I don't know, it was like a panic attack or something. So I got up and put them back on." She lifted a brow. "That was the night before Abe was shot."

"You were shot, too, Mia."

"And look at me." She spread her arms wide, sardonic. "Good as new."

"I can't understand how a smart woman like you is so superstitious."

Mia shrugged. "I'd rather be superstitious and alive than logical and dead."

"And if it were a rabbit's foot, I'd say no harm, no foul. But they're Bobby's, Mia, and until you take them off, you're still connected to him." With a frustrated sigh, Dana stood and put on her coat. "Ethan will be worried about me so I have to go. Come out to the house tomorrow. I'll fix you a special treat for dinner. The kids brought you something."

"Please say it's not another goldfish," she begged and Dana smiled.

"No, not a goldfish." She gave Mia a hard hug. "Get some sleep."

Monday, November 27, 11:35 p.m.

Penny Hill breathed a sigh of relief. Her garage door was several inches closer than it usually was. I never should have had any of that punch. But it was my retirement party, after all. Should have called a cab. She'd been lucky not to have hit another car or been stopped by a cop for DUI. Wouldn't that look just dandy in my file?

But her file was now officially closed. After twenty-five years with the Department of Children and Family Services, she was calling it quits. A lot of families had come her way. A lot of successes. A lot of regrets. One moment of shame. But that water had flowed under the bridge years before. She couldn't change it now.

She was free. She tugged at her briefcase, teetering on her feet. It was unusually heavy. She'd cleaned out her desk and stuffed the briefcase full. Too much punch made her too unsteady to haul it in tonight. I'll get it tomorrow. Now, all she wanted was a strong antacid and a soft pillow. Wearily she opened her front door.

And flew forward, violently. Her head smacked the newel post as the door closed and she was jerked to her feet by a pair of strong hands. Pulled against a hard body. She started to scream but a cold gloved hand covered her mouth and she felt the bite of a blade against her throat. She stopped fighting, feeling a spear of hope when her daughter's dog bounded into the room. Please, Milo. Don't be friendly for once.

But the dog just stood there wagging his tail and the man behind her relaxed. He forced her forward, into her kitchen. "Open the door," he said. "Let the dog out."

She did as he said. Happily Milo bounded away across her fenceless backyard. "Now lock the door, just like it was before," he said and she obeyed. He let go of her mouth just before he forced her to her knees. Then flat on her face. She cried out as he grabbed her hair and smashed her head into the linoleum. Hard.