Marti Grayson opened her eyes at the sound of her brother's voice and sat up from her slump against the inside of his car door.

"Sorry. I wasn't much company, was I?"

"None," Ry said good-naturedly. "You fell asleep two miles from Missoula and you've been out ever since."

"That's been happening a lot lately. I'm told it comes with the territory—pregnancy hormones or something," she said before focusing her attention outside of the vehicle. "Northbridge?" she asked.

"That's what the sign said. But you tell me, you're the one who's been here before."

"For one night, three weeks ago. I got in late that Monday afternoon and left Tuesday morning."

Still, as Ry drove down Main Street in the small Montana town she recognized it as the street she'd driven in—and out—on.

"Take a right when you get to South Street," she instructed. "Gram's house is the last one before South Street goes out into farm- and ranchland. The driveway veers up a steep hill to the house."

In mid-April their elderly grandmother had escaped her nurse and surprised everyone by making her way to Northbridge. Theresa Hobbs Grayson had been born and raised there. The three grandchildren who made sure she was cared for in her mentally and emotionally unstable state hadn't known about the town or the house before that. But because Theresa was determined to remain there now, her grandchildren—Marti, Ry and the third triplet, Wyatt—were accommodating her.

Wyatt had been the first to come to Northbridge after Theresa was discovered in the old abandoned house. The plan had been for Marti, Ry and Wyatt to rotate spending time there with Theresa. But when Marti ha