The Family Man - By Trish Millburn Page 0,1

doing. She couldn’t exactly say she liked the guy, but no evidence was no evidence.

“Even so, he doesn’t need to be out on his own. It’s too dangerous.”

“Could be.” Adam’s gaze met hers. “But a boy that age can take care of himself better than a lot of people think he can.”

Sara wondered why he’d say such a thing, but it wasn’t her business or relevant to her investigation. She took two more cards from her pocket and gave them to Adam and Suz.

“Nevertheless, I’d like a call if you hear or see anything that might help me find him.”

Even though Adam nodded and slipped the card into his shorts pocket, she wasn’t entirely convinced he would call her. She bit the inside of her jaw to remind herself she was being stupid to want to talk to him again, about anything.

A scream pierced the air behind Sara. She spun and scanned the beach for the source. A clump of people stood at the edge of the pier looking down at the water.

Adam cursed behind her. “A kid just went over the side.”

Sara kicked off her shoes and unstrapped her gun at the same time. When she plopped it atop the bar, Adam was already running toward the side of the building. She met Suz’s eyes. “Keep this.”

She raced after Adam, who was almost halfway to the pier. The concession shed where he normally worked was a blur as she ran past it. Adam didn’t pause as he reached the end of the pier and catapulted over the railing into the water below. She yelled for the bystanders to get out of the way before she followed him.

The water closed over her head, murkier than it looked from the pier. She glanced around before pushing up to the surface to fill her lungs. Adam popped up near her and searched the area around him.

“See him?” she asked.

“No.” And then he dived under again. She wasn’t about to let a kid drown so she did the same.

She held her breath and spotted the child just as Adam wrapped his arms around the little boy. Sara followed them to the surface then swam alongside Adam toward the shore. As soon as they hit sand, she started CPR. The hysterical crying of some woman, probably the child’s mother, barely filtered through the thundering of Sara’s pulse against her eardrums.

After a couple of repetitions of CPR, the child coughed and began spitting up the water he’d swallowed. Sara helped him sit up. His mother swooped in and clasped him to her as Sara heard someone say an ambulance had been called.

She sat back and pushed the wet strands of her hair back from her forehead. Her heart had just begun to slow when she spotted Adam across from her. Rivulets of water ran down his bare chest, lightly sprinkled with hair, causing her heart rate to accelerate again. She’d seen him pull his shirt over his head and toss it onto the sand as they’d raced for the pier.

Now, with the danger over, her attention was drawn to what the shirt had hidden.

Good grief, what was wrong with her? Postadrenaline craziness? She forced herself to shift her gaze up to his face and noticed he looked pale, shaken.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He kept staring at the kid for a couple more seconds then seemed to shake himself out of a trance. “Yeah, fine.” He refocused on her—first her face, then lower. That’s when she realized that her shirt was sticking to her like a second skin, the wet, white fabric revealing her bra underneath.

She didn’t totally believe his assertion that he was fine, but she let it drop. After all, it wasn’t every day you almost witnessed someone die.

“You did a good job,” she said.

“You, too.”

They sat on the sand until they heard the ambulance siren arrive in the parking lot beyond the dunes. Then Sara helped the mother and crying child stand. Once the paramedics had ushered the pair to the ambulance, Sara and Adam had to face all the questions posed by the police officer who’d responded. Then those of the reporter from the local paper who’d arrived about two seconds later. Adam looked as if he’d rather skydive with a parachute made of lead, and all Sara wanted to do was go home and take a shower in water that didn’t smell like fish.

“Sure you don’t want that drink?” Adam asked.

“Alas, still on duty.”

Plus, she doubted Adam Canfield was on the