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“Lynette "Nettie" Curry found her husband out by the barn, talking to his crows. The crows, a long line of them, teetered on the phone line, cawing down occasionally as if conversing. "Am I interrupting, Frank?" she asked.... The crows cawed down at her as if in greeting. Ask Frank and he'd report that's exactly what they were saying. He'd always been fascinated with the birds and clearly loved them. But even as skeptical as she'd been when she'd first moved in, Nettie now believed that they were equally as fond of him.”

“Often people meet other people by chatting via computer. They get to talking, seem to have a lot in common, even fall in love without ever meeting each other in person.” The farmer was staring at him. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.” “Unfortunately, often the person on the other end of the chat isn’t telling the truth about themselves. Jenna could have been lured by one of these people. They call it catfishing.”

“It was on a night like this in 1967 that he’d first seen them. The memory was too fresh. He cursed himself for letting his thoughts take that particular path. “Don’t be a damned fool,” he said out loud, needing to hear something, even his own voice. “They aren’t out there.” And yet every fiber of his being knew better. They were here again. It was his only thought as he turned and tried to run, knowing it was a fool thing to do in the dark …”

“The moment Jace Calder saw his sister's face, he feared the worst. His heart sank. Emily, his troubled little sister, had been doing so well since she'd gotten the job at the Sarah Hamilton Foundation in Big Timber, Montana. "What's wrong?" he asked as he removed his Stetson, pulled up a chair at the Big Timber Java coffee shop and sat down across from her. Tossing his hat on the seat of an adjacent chair, he braced himself for bad news. Emily blinked her big blue eyes. Even though she was closing in on twenty-five, he often caught glimpses of the girl she'd been. Her pixie cut, once a dark brown like his own hair, was dyed black. From thirteen on, she'd been piercing anything she could. At sixteen she'd begun getting tattoos and drinking. It wasn't until she'd turned seventeen that she'd run away, taken up with a thirty-year-old biker drug-dealer thief and ended up in jail for the first time. But while Emily still had the tattoos and the piercings, she'd changed after the birth of her daughter, and after snagging this job with Bo Hamilton. "What's wrong is Bo," his sister said. Bo had insisted her employees at the foundation call her by her first name. "Pretty cool for a boss, huh?" his sister had said at the time. He'd been surprised. That didn't sound like the woman he knew. But who knew what was in Bo's head lately. Four months ago her mother, Sarah, who everyone believed dead the past twenty-two years, had suddenly shown up out of nowhere. According to what he'd read in the papers, Sarah had no memory of the past twenty-two years. He'd been worried it would hurt the foundation named for her. Not to mention what a shock it must have been for Bo. Emily leaned toward him and whispered, "Bo's… She's gone.”

“Are we ever getting out of these mountains?" she asked without turning to look at him. He moved up behind her and put his arms around her. She leaned back against him. Her hair glistened with melting snow. She felt small in his arms. "We're going to get out of here," he whispered as he slowly turned her to face him. "Do you trust me?" She raised her head to meet his eyes and held his gaze for a long moment. "With my life.”

“You don't have to treat me as if I'm made out of glass and might break," she said. "I'm a lot stronger than I look." "Is that right?" He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him right there in the street between their vehicles. Her full lips parted in surprise. Her sweet, warm breath commingled with his own. She let out a soft moan as he tasted her. Drawing her even closer, he deepened the kiss, demanding more.”

“Honey, before I became the man who was to marry Olivia Hamilton, I was capable of taking care of myself. I can take care of you, too, for that matter. If you should ever decide to trust me." With that he turned the key. The old pickup's engine rumbled to life and he backed out kicking up fresh gravel. Livie bristled. She knew he thought her an overindulged debutante, but there was more to her than just being Buckmaster Hamilton's daughter and damned if she wasn't going to prove it to him. If he gave her the chance.”