Free Don't Tell by Karen Rose

There was precious little information. „No bodies found?“
    „No.“ Farrell perched on the comer of his desk. „And there was no evidence of foul play when the wife and the boy first disappeared seven years ago.“
    Steven frowned at the troubled look in Farrell’s eyes. „And now?“
    Farrell gave a facial shrug. „That’s what I want you to find out.“
    Steven closed the file. „I’ll head out first thing in the morning.“ He allowed himself a final smirk up at Farrell. „Oh, and I’ll give your daddy your regards when I talk to him.“
    Farrell stood and headed for the door. „Make sure my mamma offers you some of her sweet potato pie. It’s the best.“

 
    Chicago
    Monday, March 5
    9 p.m.
     
     
    Max relaxed behind the wheel of his car, pleasantly exhausted from his first day at Carrington College, finding the drive to his house comfortably familiar. It was still hard to think of it as his own house. It had belonged to Grandma Hunter since before he and his brothers and sisters were born. Situated west of Chicago in what was still rolling farmland, it was old and drafty and massive… and absolutely wonderful. He smiled as he turned onto his own road. He’d hung from those tree limbs as a boy, raced up and down the road, David and Peter at his side, Catherine at their heels, Elizabeth crying because they’d left her behind again. He’d missed them, his family. He hadn’t realized how much until Cathy called to ask him to come home. Her oldest was taking a job in Virginia and the house would be empty again. The call from Dean Whitfield had truly been providential, just as he’d told Caroline Stewart that morning.
    Now, he thought, she had been a very pleasant surprise. All the history department secretaries he’d known had been gray, fifty-ish and grandmotherly. Caroline was anything but. A wave of arousal surged at the memory of her rounded curves, of the charming way she blushed when she realized he’d been studying her. She was everything he’d been looking for. Beautiful, compassionate. Obviously intelligent. Too bad she didn’t seem to have the same assessment of her value that he did. If she had, Monika Shaw would never have been able to extinguish the light from her eyes so quickly. Fury had spiked inside him and it had taken every ounce of restraint to keep from telling Monika Shaw to go to hell. The elderly professor Wade Grayson warned him about Shaw. He’d been right. But watching Monika wave Caroline away as if she were a servant and Shaw the queen lit a possessiveness in him, a sharp need to protect Caroline that took him by surprise. Remembering, hours later, the feeling still took him by surprise.
    Surprise took an upward surge as he pulled into his driveway, finding a classic T-bird taking up more than half the width.
    „David,“ he muttered, joy and annoyance competing. He parked his car as far to the left of the T-bird as he could, ending up partially on the snow-covered grass. The recent spring thaw teased, leaving piles of slushy ice in its wake. He’d have a shoe full of slush before he got into the house. But joy won out. David was here. And Max had missed him.
    Max found the door unlocked and the sizzle and aroma of stir-fry met his ears and nose. He dropped his briefcase on the hardwood floor of the foyer and hung his overcoat on one of the pegs Grandpa Hunter had hammered into the wall sixty years ago. He’d finally come home.
    „David!“
    „In the kitchen.“
    Max let his nose lead the way and found his brother dramatically shaking vegetables in a large wok over the gas stove. David looked up with a grin and the years seemed to melt away. „About time you got home.“ He dropped the long handle of the wok to fold Max in a bear hug. The seconds ticked as the brothers held tight in a true embrace. Similar in size and weight, they’d made a formidable pair, once upon a time. And despite the two years separating them, they’d always been a pair. With a last hard