He paused, his heart breaking a little for his daughter, who seemed more confused than saddened by the question. She went back to Washington. Thats where she lives, just like we did for a while, remember?
Maddy licked a stray dollop of peanut butter from her fingers, blinking at him. And shes not coming back?
Maybe now and then to visit. I dont know. He handed her a slice of banana. Does that make you sad, baby?
Maddy shook her head. Now Miss Kristen can be my mommy, cant she, Daddy?
He stared at her, nonplussed. Miss Kristen isnt your mommy, Maddy Jane. You know that.
But she can be, right? If I want her to?
I dont think its that easy. Miss Kristen may not want to be your mommy.
The look of puzzlement on Maddys face would have been comical under other circumstances. Why not?
She may want to wait and have a little girl of her own.
She dont have to wait.
But maybe she wants to.
The light of determination in Maddys green eyes reminded him of his younger sister, Hannah, whod never taken no for an answer without a fight. You do it, Daddy. You tell her to be my mommy.
He couldnt help but laugh at the thought. I know that wont work.
She reached out and cradled his face between her sticky hands, her expression serious. Try, Daddy.
He swept her up into his arms, cracker crumbs and all. Tell you what. Why dont you take a nap and well talk about this when you wake up? He tickled her gently to distract her.
She squealed in his ear, half deafening him, but at least she dropped the subject of Kristen after that. The last couple of days with Norah had apparently taken some energy out of her, for she settled down to her nap without protest, drifting off before hed finished half of The Cat in the Hat.
He tucked her in, his mind still worrying with her question about Kristen. Of all the women in the world, why had Maddy decided a kidphobic cop with a bleak and tragic past was the best candidate for motherhood? Hell, why was he himself thinking about taking their already-complicated relationship into dangerous new territory?
Anytime now, Kristen could call with the news that Darryl Morris was the guy behind the attack on Cissy. Then it would all be over.
Maybe instead of thinking so much about how to make their relationship with Kristen last beyond the end of the case, he should be thinking about how to close the book on the Kristen Tandy chapter of his life for good.
JEFFERSON COUNTYS BOOKING him, Carl Madison told Kristen after another fruitless hour of interviewing Darryl Morris. We only have the threatening message to hold him on, and that happened in their jurisdiction.
Kristen didnt answer, frustration bubbling deep in her gut. Hed admitted to almost everything except the attack on Cissy and the threat, and he hadnt wavered a bit from his story about a mystery man pulling the strings. The story seemed crazy, but if Morris was lying, he was lying consistently.
Well tie him to the attack, Foley added when she remained silent. Hes got to be the one.
She wanted to believe it. Then Maddy Cooper would be out of danger and safe to return to a normal, happy life with Sam and the rest of his family.
And she could get out of their lives before anyone got hurt.
Carl pulled her aside as they walked down the hall toward the detectives office. Dr. Sowell from Darden left a message for you. He asked if you were still planning to visit the facility this afternoon.
Damn. Shed forgotten about her planned drive to Tuscaloosa. She glanced at her watch. Almost three oclock. If she left now, she could be there by five-thirty.
On her way down to the parking lot, she called Dr. Sowell to make sure someone would be there to talk to her about the mysterious Bryant Thompson. He promised to stick around until she arrived, so he was waiting for her when she got to Tuscaloosa. He guided her through the security checkpoint, where she had to relinquish her Ruger P95 pistol to the guard before following the doctor to his office.
Sowell pulled a grainy black-and-white photo from the top drawer of his desk and handed it to her. This is the man who introduced himself as Bryant Thompson. Do you recognize him?
She looked at the image. The surveillance camera apparently covered the small visitors area from a position high on the wall, giving her a birds-eye view of the entire room but not much in the way of details about anyone in the frame.
There were only three people in the photo-the mysterious Bryant Thompson, a uniformed guard standing nearby and a thin, frail woman dressed in a white gown and a darker robe, her hands folded in her lap.
Kristens stomach gave a sickening lurch as she realized the woman in the photo must be her mother.
She was almost entirely unrecognizable, no longer the woman Kristen remembered. Though hospitalized for only fifteen years, she looked decades older, her formerly dark red hair now a dull gray birds nest twisted up in a messy knot atop her head. Her cheeks were thin and sunken, her body stooped and frail.
Tears burned Kristens eyes, catching her unprepared. She blinked them away, steeling herself against a flood of devastating memories.
Just look at the photo, she told herself firmly. Study the man. You already know the woman.
She forced her attention to the man sitting across from her mother. He had light-colored hair-blond? Gray? Hard to say, given the photo was in black and white. He seemed to be sitting very still, his hands on his knees. He wasnt leaning forward into her mothers space, as she might have expected from someone claiming to be there to help her. If anything, he seemed to be keeping a careful distance.
Beyond that, she could see only small, unimportant details about the mystery man. He wore light-colored slacks, not jeans, and a jacket that might be corduroy.
What do you remember about the man? she asked Dr. Sowell.
Very little, Im afraid. I saw him only in passing, as I had been called to an emergency elsewhere. The guard on duty may be the best person to ask, but he works the day shift so he left earlier. I can give him your phone number and ask him to call you if you like.
She frowned at the photo, impatient. She didnt want to wait for the guard to call her. She wanted this mystery over with now, so she could put it behind her and never have to come back to this place again.
Did you ask my mother about the man who visited her?
Sowell seemed surprised by the question. No. I didnt think it would be appropriate to interrogate her when shed done nothing wrong.
At least not this time, Kristen muttered.
Sowell gave her a pitying look. Of course.
Dread crept over her, greasy and pitch-black, as she realized the best way to get the answers she needed about Bryant Thompson was to go directly to the source. Shed avoided this moment long enough. Time to face the demons head-on.
Dr. Sowell, Id like to talk to my mother.
Chapter Twelve
Kristen waited, her heart racing, for the guard to bring her mother out to see her. The interview room was cold, the chair uncomfortable and the atmosphere utterly bleak. Appropriate, she thought, a bubble of hysterical laughter knocking at the back of her throat.
The door to the room opened with a loud rattle and the guard entered first, his bulk filling the doorway. Right behind him, her bony wrist encircled by the guards beefy hand, Molly Jane Tandy shuffled into the room. Someone had cut and combed her hair since her earlier visit with the mystery man calling himself Bryant Thompson. It was almost completely gray now, chopped to chin length and hanging in stringy, frizzy strands.
A pale pink, shapeless gown covered her body from throat to shins, a dark green terry cloth robe draped over her thin arms and shoulders to combat the hospitals chilly air. No belt, of course.
She was forty-seven years old. She looked closer to sixty-seven, her haggard face dry and lined. The bright blue eyes that had once danced with wicked charm were now rheumy and restless, darting about the visitors room before finally settling on Kristens face. Her mouth dropped open in a silent O and her eyes widened.
Kristy, she said, her voice a hoarse creak.
The urge to run was almost more than Kristen could control. She wrapped her fingers around the edges of the chair seat beneath her, gritting her teeth until she found the control to speak. Hello, Mother.
Molly hurried forward, her arm outstretched. Kristen felt her whole body recoil and almost collapsed with relief when the guard caught Mollys arm and halted her approach. He was gentle but insistent as he settled her in the chair across from Kristen.
It hadnt been obvious in the photo, but in person, she saw that the patients chair was a safe distance from the visitors chair, well beyond arms reach. The chairs legs were bolted to the floor, and the guard bent to slide a leather cuff around her mothers right leg, keeping her safely secured to her seat.
The burly guard took a step back, flashing Kristen a sympathetic look. She supposed he knew all about Mollys crime and could guess just how hard it was for Kristen to be here.
Normally, she hated pity, but this time, she found the guards kind look to be a comfort. It made her feel less alone.
Less vulnerable.
Mother, Dr. Sowell told me that a man came to visit you the other day. He called himself Bryant Thompson.
A lovely man, Molly said distractedly. He spoke very well of you, Kristy.
He spoke of me?
Molly smiled. Oh, yes. He told me that youre very important now. A policewoman. Her eyes brightened, the look in them almost beatific.
Kristen glanced at the guard. His eyes were on her mother, watchful and full of pity.
Mother, did Mr. Thompson offer to do anything for you?
No, he only wanted to show me the picture.
What picture?
Her mother slowly reached into the pocket of her robe. Immediately the guard moved forward, stepping between Kristen and Molly. But his watchfulness was unnecessary; all Molly pulled from her pocket was a folded piece of paper. The guard took it from her, unfolded it, then handed it to Kristen.
It was a clipping from the Chickasaw County Herald newspaper, dated two days earlier. The article was about the break-in at Sam Coopers home and the injury to his niece. There was a photograph accompanying the article, a telephoto shot of Kristen, Sam and Maddy in the chairs at the hospital. There must have been a reporter there with a digital camera, she realized, or a staff member whod seen the chance to sell a newsworthy photo to the local rag.