Found cowering and covered in blood, Karina Guerrero's fourteen-year-old brother is accused of a crime that she's certain he didn't commit. Only one man can help Karina prove the boy's innocence. Private investigator Mason Sinclair knows firsthand what it's like to be framed. But the former cop, now committed to helping the falsely accused, is clearly uneasy being back in Albuquerque—and working with his former flame. Still, Karina can't help falling for the handsome P.I. as they hunt the real killer: a cold-blooded murderer with dangerous ties to them both. Virginia Smith wrote her 1st story in her mid-twenties and discovered that writing well is harder than it looks; it took many years to produce a book worthy of publication.During the daylight hours, she steadily climbed the corporate ladder and stole time to write late at night after the kids were in bed.With the publication of her 1st novel, she left her twenty-year corporate profession to devote her energy to writing stories that honor God and bring a smile to the faces of her readers. Loud pounding from somewhere nearby reached into Karina Guerrero's dream and dragged her to wakefulness. Heart thudding in sync with the beats, she forced her eyes open. Darkness blurred the corners of her bedroom like sleep blurred her thoughts. Those guys in the apartment next door hadn't ever been this noisy. Bang, bang, bang. "Albuquerque police department. Open up!" The voice, deeply male and harshly insistent, chased away the last tendrils of sleep. The police—here? Not an annoying stereo after all. She forced her eyes to focus on the clock on the nightstand. Three thirty-seven in the morning. Fear, sharp as a knife's blade, sliced through her insides. Had something happened to Alex? "I'm coming." Her voice, squeaky with panic, filled the apartment as she jerked on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt over her pajamas. No time to brush her sleep-tousled hair, so she pulled the thick dark mass into a messy knot at the back of her neck as she hurried across the tiny living room to the front door. A quick peek through the peephole settled her fear deeper inside. A stern-faced man with short-cropped hair frowned at her from the sidewalk outside. Please don't let something have happened to Alex. She unlocked the door and opened it. Not just one officer, but two. Both men. Surely if they were coming to give her bad news, they would have sent a woman, right? She grasped at the thought and could not find a voice for the question that screamed in her mind. "Hello, Karina," the first officer said. The familiar use of her name made her look more closely at him. A face from the past peered back at her. "Parker Harding." She hadn't thought about him in several years. Memories of him inevitably brought back memories of his friend and former partner, and she absolutely could not allow herself to think of Mason Sinclair. That was too painful. The shadowy smile hovering around Parker's mouth acknowledged the painful memories, but thankfully he didn't bring up old times. Instead, he gestured toward the man standing beside him. "This is my partner, Officer Graham. We're sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but we're hoping you can help us." A flicker of hope sparked to life. That didn't sound like someone bringing bad news. Maybe something had happened in the neighborhood, and they were checking for witnesses. That wouldn't be unusual in this apartment complex. She nodded, still unable to speak. He held her gaze as he spoke. "We're looking for Alex, Kar-ina. Our records indicate he lives here with you." His words landed like slaps across her face. Alex must be in some kind of trouble. He said lives, not lived. That means he's alive. Right? Fingers biting into the flesh of her arms, she managed to find her voice. "Is he in some kind of trouble?" She swallowed. "Is he okay?" Did she imagine it, or did Parker's expression soften just a fraction? And if it did, was it with pity? "Karina, it's very important that we talk to your brother. Is he at home?" "No, he's not. He's staying the night with a friend. I can give you the address." Parker exchanged a glance with his partner. "Is his friend's name Jose Garcia?" Oh no. Was Jose in trouble, then? The times Karina had met him he'd seemed like a good kid. "Yes, that's right." Officer Graham's expression grew grim. "Jose Garcia was killed tonight, ma'am. Several witnesses saw him with your brother right before the shooting. That's why we need to speak with Alexander." A wave of shock washed over her, leaving her dizzy. She clutched at the door to keep from falling. Jose dead? But he was only fourteen years old. And where was Alex? "I—" She swallowed, trying to put life into her numb tongue. "I don't know where Alex is. He was spending the night at Jose's. Have you looked there?" Jose's parents will be devastated! "Mr. and Mrs. Garcia haven't seen him." Officer Graham straightened and assumed an authoritative stance. "Ms. Guerrero, w