“I know, kid. I know the job has to come first.”
She pressed tired fingers to her forehead. “Where’s the baby?”
“Jenna has her.”
“Jenna? My sister-in-law?”
“Your brother Rick got Social Services on the phone. He talked to them for at least an hour and convinced them to let Jenna and him keep the baby for now.”
A sudden rush of tears welled in her eyes. “That’s what Buddy did for me.”
“He sure as hell did. I remember when your old man was on the phone talking to the social workers for you. He was a force to be reckoned with. Rick was the same way today.”
“I didn’t know they wanted children.”
“You know Rick. He plays his cards close to his vest.”
The stress that had coiled around her spine since she’d seen the baby crying released. She glanced at the clock. “It’s too late to call and check on them tonight.”
“All the arrangements for the baby came together only a few hours ago. Rick said he’d call you in the morning and give you an update.”
A tear snaked down her cheek and she swiped it away. “That works for me.”
“You okay, kid?”
“I keep thinking about Carrie. How could a man who says he loves the mother of his child do that to her?”
“You and I both know shit happens on the streets that make no sense. Evil is evil.”
“But she was the mother of his child. How could a father do that to his daughter?”
“Like I said, evil is evil.”
To argue this was pointless. KC was right. “Thanks for all you’ve done.”
“You sound dead on your feet.”
“I’m fine.”
His old chair squeaked and she imagined him leaning forward in it. “Go home and sleep. You’ll be no good to anyone tied up in knots and exhausted.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She hung up the phone and stretched her head from side to side. Buddy had gone to the mat for her when she was too little to defend herself. Rick would do the same for Sara. He would protect that kid with his life.
And yet some fathers turned on their children. Her own birth father, a married man Annie had loved, had denied her. Hal denied Sara her mother.
Closing her eyes, her mind suddenly tripped to Amber. There was no father in her life.
Not in the picture . . .
What if he had been around?
What if . . .
She moved to her computer and turned it on. When it was up and running, she went to the database of DNA samples and on a hunch printed out Amber’s, Mike’s, and Dalton Marlowe’s all taken five years ago.
The printer hummed out the documents as she hovered and waited, her heart thumping in her chest. When she had the printouts, she laid them on the large light table and looked at each one. She compared the size of the sixteen genetic markers.
She paired Dalton’s with Mike’s and could clearly see that the boy had inherited distinct markers from his father. Drawing in a breath, she lined up Amber’s results. It took less than a beat for her to see the truth. No one had seen it before. No one.
Dalton Marlowe was Amber’s biological father and Mike’s half sister.
She stepped back from the table, stunned. Not only by the connection, but what it also implied about the relationship Amber had shared with her brother and her father. Did she know?
Her phone rang, startling her. A glance at the display set her nerves on end. “Amber?”
“Georgia!” Amber’s panicked voice reached through the phone line.
“Amber, what’s wrong?” She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes, doing her best to keep her cool and not tip her hand.
“It’s Tim.”
“What about him?”
“He says he knows what happened in the woods.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thursday, October 12, 10:00 P.M.
Georgia’s fatigue burned off in a blink as she stepped away from the light table in her lab. It was as if Amber sensed Georgia had connected these critical DNA clues. “How could Tim know what happened in the woods?”
“He said he was there and knows details. He has always known. He told me to meet me at the Middle Motel. Room 116.”
“Dalton Marlowe is dead.”
“What?” The word rushed over the line. “How could Dalton be dead?”
“He was murdered.”
“Did Tim do it?”
“We don’t know yet.” Georgia rose and slid her feet into her shoes. “Okay. Where are you?”
“I’m at the motel now. I can see him inside pacing in front of the window.”
“Don’t go in and talk to him until the police arrive.”
“I’ve got to find out what happened in the woods, Georgia. It has haunted me. If the cops show, he won’t talk to anyone and I might not ever find out.”
Whatever Amber’s relationship was to Marlowe and his son didn’t mean that Tim wasn’t a real threat to her now. “Wait for me.”
“Just hurry. I’ll wait for you outside the room.” Panic chased the words out in a rush.
Georgia rang off and tied her shoelaces before she called Jake. He answered on the third ring. “Jake Bishop.”
His voice was rough like gravel, heavy with fatigue. He and Rick would have been working nonstop on the Marlowe case and she wondered if he’d even gotten enough time to eat something. “Amber called me.”
“When?”
“Just now.” She recapped her call about Amber’s fear of Tim. “I’m headed over there.”
“Georgia, don’t engage her or Tim.” His tone sharpened, reached out as if trying to grab hold of her. “Wait until Rick and I can get there.”
“Where are you?” Georgia pulled her messy ponytail free of the hair band and combed her fingers through her hair.
“We’re ten to twenty minutes out.” In the background, she heard Rick mutter a curse.
“I’ll see you there.”
&
nbsp; “Don’t engage.” In the background, Rick said, “Listen to him, Georgia.”
“Jake, I pulled DNA for Marlowe and Amber. They’re father and daughter.”
His answer was a muttered curse. “Okay. We’ll deal with that in due order. Now, we’ve got to get Tim secured.”
She moved toward her desk where she kept a gun locked in the bottom drawer. She fished out her keys from her purse, unlocked the drawer, and removed the gun. “I won’t engage. Unless I have to.”
She ended the call to his curses. Shoving the phone in her back pocket, she rushed to her car. The moon hung high in the sky. The air was cool and crisp. This late there was little traffic and the drive went quickly.
Georgia spotted Amber’s car nosed in a spot next to room 116. She scanned the lot for Jake and Rick’s vehicle and seeing no sign of it knew she’d act alone if forced. She sat for several minutes before she saw the curtains flutter.
Room 116 had a large picture window now covered with a thick curtain. The curtains fluttered once and then twice more as if someone had peeked out of it.
“Damn it.” The gun holster now resting on her hip, she dug out her cell as she got out of the car. Dialing Jake, he answered on the first ring. “I see only Amber’s car. I don’t see her or Tim, but the window curtain in the room is moving. Someone is in the room.”
“Do not go in that room, Georgia,” Jake growled. “I’ve got uniforms on the way.”
“What if he’s in the room alone with her? You and I both know he could have killed Marlowe. It’ll take only a few seconds to incapacitate and then kill her.” She’d not been there for Carrie. She’d not been able to save her. “Tell the uniforms to come in without sirens. I don’t want to spook this guy.”
“Understood. I am minutes—seconds—out. Wait.”
Impatience clawed at her gut. “Jesus, she could be already dead.”
“Stay put!”
As she edged closer to the motel room, she heard the pop, pop, pop of gunfire. “Damn it.”
“What?”
“Shots fired. I have to go in.”
“No!”
Phone clutched in her hand, she unholstered her gun and raced toward the door, the blood in her veins pumping so hard that she couldn’t hear Jake’s shouted warnings.