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“Understood. I’ll give you the number for the FBI, my ID number and also my email address so you can email me the picture of the tattoo when you get it.”
“That’ll work.”
Eric rattled off the information and ended the call. “I think we’re onto something.”
“I can’t find anything on this victim that points to witchcraft.” Christina shoved the case file off her lap.
“It’s there somewhere.” He clasped the back of his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I need a break. Lunch?”
“Let’s get out of here. It’s almost worse than working in an office. It’s so claustrophobic and there are no coworkers to make fun of.”
“Remind me never to turn my back on you in the office.”
Her phone buzzed and one glance at it caused a rush of adrenaline to course through her body. “Ah, this is a private call.”
His brows shot to his hairline. Then he backed up toward his room. “Go ahead. I’m going to make a few calls myself.”
He shut the door behind him with a decisive click, and she let out a breath and collapsed against the fluffed-up pillows. “Hi, Mom. How’s everything going?”
“Kendall is doing fine, but she misses her mommy.”
Christina put a hand over her heart where the hole just got bigger. “Can you put her on the phone?”
“Of course. She’s helping me pack up a lunch for our picnic at the park. I’m meeting that nice, young mother down the street and her daughter. I think she’s a stay-at-home mom.”
Christina gritted her teeth and ignored the jab. “Great. Kendall and Serena play really well together.”
“Here she is. Say hi to Mommy, Kendall.”
“Hi, Mommy.” Her daughter’s sweet voice filled the hole in her heart with love.
“Hi, girly-girl. Are you going to play with Serena today?”
“In the sand.”
“Are you going to build castles in the sandbox?”
“Princess castles.”
“Those are the best kind.” When she’d been a girl, she’d spent time building sand castles and then punching holes in them. Kendall clearly had not inherited her mother’s tomboy ways.
Kendall went on to tell her about her lunch and the kitten next door, and a few other things Christina couldn’t quite figure out, but she loved listening to her daughter chatter away anyway.
Then the words abruptly stopped and her mom got back on the phone. “Quite the chatterbox today.”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell her I love her. Can you put the phone back to her ear?”
After some rustling noises, Christina said, “Love you, girly-girl. See you soon.”
“When are you coming home, Christina? Chasing serial killers around the country is no job for a woman with a young child, especially when that child doesn’t have a father.”
The guilt twisted her insides. Nobody could do guilt better than her mother—especially when she was right.
“He’s here.”
“What?”
Christina lowered her voice. “Eric. He’s on the same case and he’s here with me.”
“Perfect. Now you can tell him he’s a father.”
“It’s not that easy, Mom.”
“It’s not easy because you’ve been sitting on this bombshell for over two years.”
“You know why I did that.”
“Because he was mad at you?”
“It was more than that. He was in a dark place when he lost that kidnapped child, and he’d already told me he didn’t want kids of his own. I had agreed to that, so when I got pregnant it would’ve looked like a trap after he dumped me.”
“So what? If he’s any kind of man, he’ll get over it when you tell him he has a daughter.”
“He’ll hate me for keeping it from him.”
“As he should. So that’s why you’re not telling him now? You think it’s going to mess up the little kissy-face game you have going on now? You’re selfish, Christina.”
Anger pounded hot against her temples, and a retort burned on her lips. Then she closed her eyes and dragged in a breath through her nose. “You’re right. I need to tell him. I will tell him.”
“A man like Eric Brody will never walk away from his responsibilities. He may walk away from you, but never his daughter. He’s not like your father.”
Christina’s eyes flew open. “Speaking of Dad, have you heard from him or Vivi lately?”
“Funny you should ask. Vivi was just out here.”
“What? When?” Christina bunched the bedspread in her fist.
“A few weeks ago.”
