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the doorway, silently watching her. She let out a surprised yelp, her hand jerking to her throat. ”You scared me, buddy,” she said, with a flustered laugh. ”Is Jessica still sleeping?”

Henry nodded and began pushing his toy truck up and down the doorframe.

Sonia waved him over. ”Come here and sit next to me. You can watch me while I work.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he ambled over and climbed up into the swivel office chair that Jessica sometimes used for her art projects. Sonia spun him around a couple of times, relieved to see a smile break out on his face.

“What is you doing?” he asked, before plugging his mouth with his thumb.

Sonia tilted her foam board so he could see. “I’m designing a bedroom for a sixteen-year-old girl. She’s getting all new furniture, retro lighting, teal-and-white bedding, and bamboo window shades. Do you like it?”

He shook his head and pulled his thumb back out with a plopping sound. ”It’s yucky.”

Sonia laughed. ”I can design you a fun boy’s bedroom, if you like. What was your bedroom like in your old house?”

“Bad.”

Sonia smiled. ”Too many pillows, like this one, huh?”

“No. We didn’t got pillows—“ He broke off, his face quickly closing over.

“It’s okay, Henry,” Sonia said gently. “You can tell me.”

He dropped his head and stared forlornly down at his feet.

“You’re not going to get in trouble, sweetie.”

A tear tracked down his cheek. “But … he said … he said …”

Sonia held her breath. “What did he say?”

“He said, never tell them.”

Sonia fought to keep her breathing steady. “Who, Henry? Who said that?”

“My … my … my dad,” he sniveled.

Sonia tucked her pencil behind her ear and slid an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re safe here, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Fueled up on caffeine, her mind was racing a million miles an hour. She had made him a promise now. There was no going back. If Ray Jenkins was a danger to his son, she had to find a way to keep Henry away from him.

A cold chill crept over her as she rode the elevator up to the third floor of the hospital later that afternoon. It was time to confront Ray about a few things. She’d gone back on her word about bringing Henry with her to visit, but her promise to keep him safe had canceled out that possibility, for now. Before she left for the hospital, she’d retrieved the newspaper article from Ray’s house and stashed it in her purse. It had been bugging her ever since she’d stumbled across it. She needed to ask him about it—that, and the unsettling things Henry had told her. It was time to try and jog Ray’s memory before he came home to claim his son.

Taking a deep breath, Sonia painted on a smile before she knocked on the door to his room and stepped inside. “Hi Ray, how’s it going today?”

A tiny frown flickered across his forehead. “I’m … sorry, you … look familiar, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Sonia Masterton, I’m your neighbor. I was—”

“Of course! You were here yesterday.” Ray adjusted his pillows and sat up a little straighter in his bed. “It’s everything before the accident I can’t recall.”

Sonia pulled a chair over next to his bed and perched on the end of it, looking intently at him. “Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?”

Ray grimaced. “You said my mother passed away recently.”

“Yes, her name was Celia. My mom and I were very fond of her—as was my eight-year-old daughter, Jessica. She was always over at her house—baking cookies or painting with her on the back deck.” She took a quick steadying breath before continuing. “Do you remember who else we talked about?”

Ray scrubbed a hand across his jaw, his features tightening. “My son.” His voice was low and gravelly, infused with some emotion Sonia couldn’t pinpoint. Anger? Sadness? Frustration?

“Where is he?” He blinked accusingly at Sonia. “You said you were going to bring him with you today.”

She sighed. “I did, and I’m sorry. It was premature of me to make you that promise. There are … some things we need to talk about first.”

“Like what?” Ray demanded, clearly irritated. “If you’re trying to tell me you don’t think I’m capable of looking after my own son because I have a concussion, you’re wrong. The doctor assures me I’ll have my memory back in another day or two.” He frowned. “How is he … Henry? Is he missing me?”

Sonia swallowed the ball of uneasiness bobbing in her throat. She couldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t want to plunge a knife in his heart either. “He’s fine. Jess has been doing a great job of keeping him distracted. I haven’t told him about your accident. I said you were working. I didn’t want to traumatize him any further.”

“Any further? What do you mean?” Ray’s eyes widened. “Was Henry in the truck when I wrecked?”

Sonia raised her palms to calm him. “No! Nothing like that. He was at preschool when it happened. He’s perfectly fine.” She chewed on her lip wondering if she should just come out with it. How would he react when he learned that the mother of his child—his wife—had passed away recently too? Part of her felt bad for breaking it to him like this. She should have discussed it with his doctor first to make sure the shock of it wouldn’t worsen his condition. But it was too late for that now. She’d dug herself in too deep.

Besides, this might be the only chance she’d get to wheedle some answers out of him before he realized he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to. If he had lied about his wife dying of cancer, she needed to know. ”Ray, this is going to be difficult for you to hear, but there’s something else I need to tell you. Your wife passed away too. Henry really misses his mom. He talks about her all the time.”

Ray’s brows tugged

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