It was a brief shot. Less than a second as the camera had panned over a group of police and detectives. Why was it stuck on replay in her brain?

She’d recognized Michael’s stiff stance immediately. He’d looked like he was clamping down on every emotion he had. Just like he had at her school this morning. When she’d made a fool of herself by telling him those personal things about Chris. And when he’d invited her to travel with him…He hadn’t been holding back all emotions at that point. She’d seen the dark sparks in his eyes. She could have said yes. After all, it was her brother he wanted to see. Not spend time with her. Jamie shook her head and marched into her kitchen and attacked the dishes she’d left in the sink. She never left dishes in the sink. Where was her mind lately?

Earlier she’d locked her keys in her car. She’d stood there, staring dumbly at the empty pocket in her purse where the keys belonged. Then she’d peeked through the window and did a double take. There they were. In plain sight on the console. Blowing out a disgusted breath, she’d searched under her car for the little magnetic box she’d hidden years ago when she’d first bought the car. She believed in preparing ahead, but she’d truly never thought she’d need that box.

Her doorbell rang. She moved to the door and pressed her face against the wood to look through the hole.

Speak of the devil. Her porch light illuminated his face in the dark of the late evening.

He winked, and her heart did a double flip.

Sheesh.

Fuming at her reaction, she threw the bolts and opened the door. “What do you want?”

“I need you to come with me to find your brother.”

“No. I already told you I wouldn’t go. Leave him alone.” She shook her head with each word. “He doesn’t need to be a part of this. He doesn’t do well with media attention. I told you he struggles with nightmares. This is just going to make it worse.”

“Is it your brother you’re protecting, or his son?”

Jamie’s knees twitched, and she held tight to the doorknob. “Son? His son? Chris doesn’t have children.” What?

Sympathy and anger flashed in those green eyes. “He does. You didn’t know?”

Jamie couldn’t speak. She shook her head. Chris? Son?

“Looks like he was protecting more than just you,” Michael said quietly. His gaze abruptly narrowed. “Hey. You need to sit down.” He grabbed both her arms and turned her toward the living room, guiding her to sit on the couch, and sat beside her. His weight on the cushions nearly caused her to tip into him. She fought to stay upright.

She couldn’t breathe. Confusion spun in her mind. She had a nephew? Had her parents known? “How old?”

“How old is what?”

“The boy. How old is my nephew?” she croaked.

“About seven or eight years old.”

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and brushed angrily at the tears. “He never told me.”

“Yeah. I see that.” Sympathy filled his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s married? He never told me?” Why? Why hadn’t Chris told her?

“Doesn’t look like he was ever married. The mother died when the boy was one.”

More tears streamed. Tears for a motherless baby and his lonely father. “She died? Who was she?”

“I have a name, not much else. Elena Padilla. She was twenty-two when she died.”

Jamie looked down and saw she was holding both of Michael’s hands in a death grip, her knuckles white. She released and her fingers felt like they’d been frozen in place. They fought to straighten. She shoved them between her knees and turned to look at him.

Concern wrinkled his forehead. He watched her like he expected her to crack in half.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her tongue feeling numb. “It’s just that…Chris is all…”

“He’s the only family you have left. And now it turns out he was hiding more.”

“What’s his name? What’s the boy’s name?” she pleaded. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She had a nephew? And Chris never said a word?

“I don’t know,” Michael answered.

“Are you certain?” she asked again, searching his gaze. “Are you absolutely certain he has a son?”

“No doubts,” he said softly.

She looked away, unable to face the pity in his eyes. “Do you know where he is?” She was done wondering how Michael dug up information or the accuracy of that information. Her instinct told her he didn’t let words cross his lips unless his facts were triple-checked.

“I have a good idea. A good starting place anyway.”

Jamie’s heart clenched tight, overwhelmed with a need to see the faces of Chris and his son. “How do you know? How did you find out?”

Michael shrugged. “The phone call you made indicated a general area in Eastern Oregon. It’s pretty sparsely populated. I made some calls and got a hold of the sheriff in the area. He knows a Chris Jacobs who lives off the grid as far as possible. He says it’s the type of area where people go to avoid the rest of the world. Sound like your brother?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“The reason he remembers your brother is because of how Chris’s wife—well, not his wife legally—died in a car accident. I can’t find a record of a marriage, but I did find newspaper clippings about the accident. And it talks about the child. The information matches what the sheriff told me. It was pretty bad and sounds like a scene that would stick in your head for a long time.”