Chapter 1

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller

Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone"

from Kelly Clarkson's What Doesn't Kill You


Miss Parker faced her reflection with the usual mixed feelings.

She knew a beautiful woman would look back at her, a woman who'd figured out long ago how to use that beauty to her advantage. With eyes that could flash blue fire or shimmer like a lake in summer, a smile that could switch from disarming to predatory, and long legs that could distract or deal a painful blow in combat, she knew exactly how to use her best attributes to gain control in any situation.

That was a lesson the other woman in the mirror had never learned.

For as long as she could remember, Miss Parker had been told she looked just like her mother. That fact had offered little consolation to the young girl who'd suddenly and tragically lost her mother. As an adult, though, she'd come to cherish the resemblance, knowing that in her loneliest moments, she had only to glance in a mirror to feel like her mother was still with her.

Especially this mirror. This dressing table was the only thing she'd brought with her from Blue Cove when she'd left five years ago, walking away from everything else – her job, her house, her father. At that turning point in her life she'd also come to the painful realization that she no longer wanted to be like her mother, a woman she'd come to view as weak. Still, she couldn't let go of the one object that was her strongest connection to the distant past that held her best memories of her mother. How many times had she happily perched on this padded bench for some girl talk, trying on jewelry or trying out new hairdos while sharing hopes, dreams, and secrets?

But not all of the secrets. A shadow crossed Miss Parker's face, eerily similar to the flickers of sadness that would often mar her mother's lovely features. As a child, she hadn't seen – or hadn't wanted to see – that pain. It wasn't until she was an adult that she'd finally discovered how dangerous Catherine Parker's life had been. And just how much she'd risked to shield her daughter from those dangers. Now that she had a child of her own, Miss Parker understood that fierce need to protect.

"You look pretty, Mommy."

She'd said those same words on many occasions, but this wasn't some childhood memory brought to life by the looking glass. This compliment came from her own daughter, Katie, as she skipped into the bedroom.

Miss Parker smiled at the girl in the mirror. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Katie came to a stop beside her and addressed their reflections. "Are you going to a party?"

Another echo from the past. How many times had she watched her mother sit at this very dressing table to get ready for a night out with her father? The young Miss Parker had thought her mother a true artist the way she'd handled the blush and mascara brushes. But how many times had she used that skill to cover bruises she'd chosen to hide from the world?

"Mommy?"

Miss Parker returned to the present and considered Katie's question. Why did she think she was going to a party? Unlike her mother had done on so many of those nights out, she hadn't swept her dark brown hair up in some elaborate style; it fell in its usual waves from her forehead to her shoulders. She wore a simple black dress with no jewelry. "Not a party, just dinner," she said, adding, "For work," before her daughter could invite herself along with hopes of a meal at her favorite eatery in town, The Crab Shack.

The little girl's brow furrowed slightly. "But you work here."

"Well, yes, I usually do most of my work over the phone or computer, but the man I need to interview happens to be in town, so I thought it would be good to meet with him in person and ask him questions to see if he'd be a good person for the job being offered by my company." Miss Parker had learned to offer more information than was necessary in the hopes of fending off an endless string of follow-up questions. It usually worked, especially if her answer was sufficiently boring.

Seems like her long response had done the trick. Katie shrugged and turned to leave.

Noticing an errant strand of hair escaping from one of her daughter's pigtails, Miss Parker reached out to stop her. "Wait a minute, let me fix your braid."

Katie let out an exasperated puff of air that fluttered her bangs but obediently stood still.

Stifling a sigh of her own, Miss Parker set to the task of redoing the braid. From experience, she knew to work fast, but the child had already started to fidget, shifting her weight from one lavender sneaker to the other, before she was done. "Come on, Katie, you want to look nice for Ben, don't you?"

"Grandpa Ben's coming?" This exciting bit of news just made her squirm more, as if she needed to rush to the door to greet him this very instant.

Miss Parker quickly finished with an efficient twist of the shiny purple bauble to hold the silky hair in place. "He'll be here in a little while. Just enough time for you to clean your room."

The girl's shoulders drooped at the thought, but she was off like a flash when the Skype ringtone sounded from the next room.

"Katie, wait!" Miss Parker hurried after her. How many times did she have to tell her not to answer calls on her work computer? Hardly professional to have a four-year-old child – no matter how advanced for her age – chatting with clients. She wondered if Sean, her dinner companion for tonight, was calling to cancel, and she felt an unexpected pang of disappointment at the thought.

But it was a co-worker from the past, not the future, whose voice she heard as she entered the spare bedroom she'd turned into her home office. "Hey, kiddo, how's it going?"

"Hi, Uncle Boots!"

Miss Parker inwardly cringed at the babyish nickname that Katie still used for Broots; she suffered from none of the speech impediments common to other children her age.

Katie sent a delighted grin her mother's way, showing a hint of the dimples she'd inherited from both her parents, before swiveling back in the computer chair to address the man on the screen. "Doesn't Mommy look pretty?"

An uncomfortable silence followed her daughter's innocent question. As she walked closer to the webcam, Miss Parker could tell Broots was checking her out while trying to appear that he was doing anything but that. She kept her eyes locked on his, silently daring him to let his gaze wander from her face. "Um," he said finally, blinking rapidly and tugging at the collar of his green polo shirt, "y-yes, v-very p-pretty."

Thank goodness Katie was used to Broots' stammer-speak; she didn't want her highly intuitive daughter to figure out that "Uncle Boots" carried a torch for her mother. At best, Miss Parker felt a sisterly affection for the computer geek, but Broots couldn't seem to understand that their relationship would always remain platonic. She'd come to realize she'd never been able to completely extinguish his attraction to her; it was like trying to blow out those damn trick birthday candles that kept flaring to life.

"Thank you, Broots." She hoped he realized this gracious response was for her daughter's benefit – as a demonstration of good manners – and not encouragement for regular compliments on her appearance.

"Uncle Boots, have you rescued the princess yet?"

For once, Miss Parker was thankful for Katie's habit of abruptly changing the subject.

"Are you kidding? I can't even get past the guards on level three." No stutter in that response; Broots was obviously eager to continue this new topic of conversation.

"Oh, that's easy! All you have to do is -"

"Sorry, you two, but you're going to have to compare notes on storming the castle later." If she let them get too deep into their computer game chatter, she'd never get out of here in time for her dinner. She laid a hand on Katie's shoulder. "You need to clean up those toys all over your bedroom floor before Ben gets here. You don't want him to trip and fall, do you?"

The girl stiffened and her lower lip began to protrude, but Miss Parker knew there would be no tears, just a stubborn refusal to do what she was told.

Broots also recognized the signs. "Better do what your mother says, Katie. It's easier that way. Believe me, I know."

Miss Parker glared at him over her daughter's head.

Broots went on in gently persuasive tone. "Look, I really do want to know how to get to the next level, so I'll call again tomorrow and you can give me some tips then, okay?"

"Promise?" She was using her pathetic little girl voice that Miss Parker hated.

"I promise."

Katie let out a big sigh. "Okay." She slid off the chair and plodded from the room, her slow pace one last act of defiance.

Miss Parker sank into the chair her daughter had just vacated. "Thanks, Broots," she said, this time with genuine warmth. "I know Katie is four going on forty, but sometimes she seems to be stuck in the terrible twos."

"Wait until she's a teenager."

It was the dire warning issued by the parents of most teens, but Miss Parker knew Broots' daughter Debbie was a good kid, proof of how good a father he was. His ex-wife had been largely absent from Debbie's life, but Broots had done a fine job raising his daughter on his own. Miss Parker had always secretly admired his parenting skills. Even though they hadn't worked together for a long time, she felt like she understood Broots better now, as though they were bonded by the daily trials, tribulations, and triumphs of single parenthood.

"So, what's up, Broots? You didn't call just to get video game advice from my daughter, did you?"

He gave a short, nervous laugh then cleared his throat. "Uh, no, I was just wondering if you've heard from Sydney lately."

She had to think for a minute. "No, I haven't talked to him in months. I think the last time he called was back in May to wish Katie a happy birthday." She suddenly realized her relationship with her former colleague – a man she used to see almost every day – had been reduced to short conversations on holidays and special occasions. When she'd chosen to start her new life far from the Centre, she thought that cutting ties with everyone in Blue Cove had been a good idea, but now she couldn't imagine not hearing from Broots on a regular basis. She had to admit she felt slightly offended that Sydney seemed to have so easily accepted her wish for limited contact.

She noticed that Broots' perpetual worry lines on his ever-enlarging forehead had deepened, and she knew his question had not been casual. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off his worries. "Nothing, it's just that Sydney didn't show up for work today. He went to his fishing cabin on Friday; he's been spending a lot of weekends up there lately."

Ah, the fishing cabin in upstate New York. Miss Parker was sure the only raw fish Sydney had ever seen was sushi, but she had never questioned his forays to his wilderness retreat. If her office had been located in an underground lab, she would have made any excuse to get outside, too. If he spent most of the time at his cabin reading medical journals or brooding by the shore of the lake, who was she to judge?

"Maybe he had car trouble on the way home," she suggested.

"I've tried calling and e-mailing him, but I've gotten no response."

"His cell phone battery might be dead."

Broots looked like the thought of anyone forgetting to charge their cell phone was completely foreign to him.

"Or perhaps," she went on slowly, struck by a radical notion, "Sydney decided to take a three-day weekend. You said he's been spending a lot of time up there. Maybe it's fish in the sea and not the lake that he's after."

She didn't think her pathetic joke warranted the completely baffled expression on Broots' face. "Could Sydney have met someone?" she clarified.

Now he looked dumbfounded at the idea that his co-worker, the distinguished psychiatrist, could be playing hooky because he was having a fling with some mystery woman. Miss Parker knew the idea was hard to grasp, but she'd learned long ago that Dr. Sydney Green could surprise you. Underneath that mild-mannered, absent-minded professor persona was a completely different person.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, he had a new experiment all ready to start today," Broots said. "There were several sets of twins waiting for him down in the sim lab this morning. Sydney wouldn't miss that."

No, he wouldn't. Trying to ignore the tingle of unease she felt, she said briskly, "I'm sure he's fine, Broots. Try not to worry." She knew that was like asking him to give up breathing, but she refused to be drawn into one of his fits of paranoia. She'd suffered through enough of those while she worked at the Centre to last a lifetime.

Never mind that Broots usually had had good reason to be constantly looking over his shoulder. She doubted that anything had changed in the years since she'd left; in fact, the fortress-like think tank had probably become an even more dangerous place in that time given who was currently running the place.

No, she was free from all that now and intended to stay far away from the plots and intrigue of the Centre. She imagined she could feel Broots' anxiety reaching out through the computer screen and started to feel annoyed that she'd have to start the evening in an unpleasant frame of mind.

"I'm sure you're right. Sydney probably had a flat tire or something and couldn't call Triple A because he forgot to charge his cell phone which meant he had to change the tire himself or flag down a passing motorist for help. Or maybe he came down with the flu and has a high fever and completely forgot about the experiment he had scheduled for today. Or perhaps…" Broots finally seemed to realize he was babbling, a habit of his he knew she could barely tolerate. He took a deep breath in a visible attempt to calm down. "Anyway, I'll let you go. You're obviously getting ready to go out, right? Um…"

"It's a business dinner." Why did she feel the need to tell him that? It wasn't any of his business, even if it was a date.

"Oh! Okay, then. Good. I mean -"

"Good night, Broots," she said firmly and disconnected. Before she left the room, she made sure to completely shut down the computer, knowing that it was never a good idea to leave an open conduit to the internet for Katie to find.

She'd just returned to her dressing table when the doorbell rang. Grabbing her purse, Miss Parker hurried downstairs, checking her watch as she crossed the hardwood foyer. Ben was right on time, as always. She opened the door. Seeing her friend's kind face instantly chased away the leftover uneasiness from her conversation with Broots.

"You look nice," he greeted her.

She felt an irrational flash of irritation. "It's not like I spend all of time in t-shirts and jeans, you know."

A bemused expression crossed his face. "Heaven forbid," he murmured.

She instantly regretted her response to what had, after all, been a compliment. "Sorry. It's just that even though I work from home, I do have to look presentable when I'm conducting interviews over Skype. Tonight I happen to have a face-to-face meeting in a nice restaurant, so I owe it to my company to look my best. The candidate seems to have all the qualifications for the job, so I want to make a good first impression." Realizing that she was rambling, Miss Parker stopped abruptly. "Anyway, thanks for babysitting. I hope Katie doesn't bore you with her video games all night."

Ben stepped inside, holding up a canvas tote bag as he did so. "Ah, I came prepared. It's such a nice night, I thought we could roast marshmallows over the fire pit out back."

"Good idea. But don't let her talk you into going out to the water." She knew the rocky shoreline was too treacherous for a man with arthritic knees, but also knew he'd never admit that to Katie "And I just hope the sugar rush and adrenaline from the ghost stories she'll insist you tell don't make bedtime too impossible for you later."

His eyes twinkled as he shook the bag. "That's why there's another surprise in here – just in case a certain little girl needs some added incentive to go to bed without a fuss."

Miss Parker sighed as she closed the door. "You spoil her, Ben."

"What can I say? I have a soft spot for Parker women."

"Grandpa Ben!" The whirlwind that was her daughter came flying down the stairs. Ben barely had time to safely deposit the bag on the small mahogany table in the foyer before the girl caught him around his middle in a fierce hug.

Just as all of the Parker women have a soft spot for you, Miss Parker thought fondly, watching as her dear friend deposited a gentle kiss on the top of Katie's head. Coming here to Maine to be close to Ben Miller was probably the best decision she'd made during that terrible time five years ago. He'd been a calming presence in her life, just as he'd been for her mother over thirty years ago. If the fates had been kinder, he might have been her real father, but she was just glad he'd accepted the role as surrogate parent and grandfather.

Katie released her "grandpa." "Wait until you see my new game," she said.

Miss Parker had a feeling Ben was in for a long night. She grabbed her daughter for a quick goodbye hug before the child could dash out of the room. "Now you be a good girl for Ben, okay? I probably won't be back until late, so I'll see you tomorrow morning. "

Katie nodded and squirmed out of her grasp. She skipped towards the family room, calling back for Ben to follow her.

"Be right there, Katie!" Ben picked up his bag of goodies.

"Thanks again for watching her tonight," Miss Parker said.

"No problem. I'm always available for babysitting, so if you ever want to go out for something other than a business meeting, just give me a call." He smiled serenely in the face of her sudden annoyance and sauntered in the direction Katie had gone, leaving her silently fuming in the foyer,

You put on a little black dress and everyone thinks you're going out for a night on the town. Why was everyone so anxious for her to start dating? They all knew her history. Her one serious relationship had ended up with the guy faking his own death, getting her pregnant, then getting himself brainwashed into an evil version of his former self. She didn't need a shrink like Sydney to tell her she was perfectly justified in taking a prolonged break from the dating scene.

Before she went out the door, she ducked into the powder room for one final peek in the mirror. No fussing with her appearance was needed; she looked just fine for a business dinner. But she did apply an extra layer of her favorite red lipstick and saw the confident Miss Parker smile in approval.