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never happen.
Besides, God wouldn't be so cruel."
    "You think not?" He chuckled. "I find He has a wicked sense of humor."

Chapter Five

    Harrison couldn't convince Garran to join him
at A Taste of Home , but he could still enjoy dinner
there.
    He strolled in to find everyone in a somber
mood. Grief hung in the air like an entity ready to greet its next
victim. His gaze took in his surroundings. Candles and flowers were
arranged near the register like a shrine. Tables and chairs had
been moved to the side and a large banquet table stood as a focal
point with food trays, a large stainless steel coffee container,
and a punch bowl. He knew the restaurant sometimes held private
parties, but they usually did so on the days they were closed and
not on a busy night.
    Isabella spotted him and headed over to him
with only a hint of a smile. Her eyes gave away her true feelings.
Puffy and blood shot – she'd been crying. What in the hell
happened here? His gaze shifted to the familiar faces that
dined at the restaurant on a regular basis. Mario, the chef peeked
his head out from the kitchen, his aged face lined with grief.
Patti, one of the waitresses stood near the back of the room,
dabbing her eyes. Nicholas appeared to be consoling her. He kept
patting her shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
    Then it dawned on him. This was Saturday
night. Marcy should be working this shift. Harrison's gaze found
Isabella's once more. He heard rumors: a young woman had been found
dead near Paul Revere's house. He had a sinking feeling Marcy had
been the victim.
    "Hello, Harrison," Isabella greeted him. "I
don't know if you heard yet, but Marcy—" She couldn't finish the
sentence, choking on the word that would finalize what happened to
the young vibrant woman, who had light brown hair and a quick
smile. She wanted to be a teacher.
    Harrison led Isabella to one of the tables
and pulled out a chair for her to sit down. He crouched down beside
her. "What happened?" he asked.
    "Marcy was found dead. The EMT, who arrived
on the scene suspected a heart attack. I heard him call it into the
hospital." She met his gaze. "How does a perfectly healthy
twenty-four year old have a heart attack? She ran track in high
school for God's sake. Wouldn't her physician have seen if she had
something wrong with her heart long before now?"
    All good questions , Harrison thought.
Unfortunately, he couldn't answer them for her. "Marcy never hinted
she didn't feel well?"
    She hesitated as if she wanted to share her
suspicions, but instead she clamped her mouth shut, her teeth
worrying her lower lip. She shook her head. "No, she never
complained."
    Harrison would have asked her a few more
questions, but he spotted Isabella's brother heading toward them.
His protective stance told him to tread lightly with Isabella. He
didn't blame Nicholas for his concern. He felt protective of
Isabella, too. Harrison stood. "Hi, Nick."
    "Harrison." Nicholas nodded toward him before
he glanced at his sister. He pushed back his glasses that had slid
down his nose. "I can handle everything here if you want, you could
go home."
    "No." Isabella took a deep breath. "I
promised Mario I would help him in the kitchen." She stood and
looked at Harrison. "You'll stay for the vigil, won't you?"
    "Absolutely." Harrison nodded.
    Her hand brushed his arm with a gentle
squeeze of appreciation. She turned away then, and he watched her
walk toward the back of the restaurant and disappear into the
kitchen.
    "My sister has been hurt before," Nicholas
said.
    Harrison frowned. "Are you implying I might
hurt her?"
    The O'Briens entered the restaurant, but
before Nicholas stepped away to greet the family, he leveled his
gaze on him. "No, I'm warning you not to."
    Harrison's brows lifted. "I'm impressed," he
murmured under his breath as he stared at Nicholas' retreating
back. Obviously, there was more to Nicholas than the mild-manner
persona he displayed to the world.
    Harrison glanced at his watch. He needed to
call