Page 99 of Midnight Creed

Now she turned to look at him. He finally had her full attention.

“What do you know about him?”

“That’s who they’re all looking for, right?” He waved his hand in the direction of the front of the house. “Mickey’s boy. I didn’t even know he had a kid.”

“Maybe if you came around more often, you’d know things.”

“He looks exactly like him.”

There was a flicker of panic in her eyes. He saw it before she put it away.

“You saw the photographs.” She probably didn’t think he could hear the relief in her voice.

“I thought I’d seen a ghost.”

“He does resemble his father.” There was a smile now.

“Does he know about me?”

She glanced up as she slathered a slice of bread with mayonnaise. “He’s probably seen your picture.”

“Doesn’t look like there are any of me.”

She shrugged. Not concerned. No guilt. No regret.

“He didn’t seem to recognize me.”

Her head jerked up, and her eyes darted to his. The panic mixed with anger now. “You? You took him! Peter, what did you do?”

“What did you do to my father?”

Noise came from outside the kitchen. The garage door was going up.

His mother’s eyes flew to the connecting door, then back to Gregory. She froze. Though clearly, she wanted to run, yell...do something to warn the person coming.

No, he was wrong. She expected to be saved. Yes, of course, that’s exactly what she was thinking. He could see it now. There was even another smile, a smirk.

When the man came through the door, Gregory was surprised how small and diminished—how old—her hero looked. Especially compared to Gregory’s memory of the man. Thin with broad shoulders now a bit hunched, he yanked off his ball cap to reveal a shock of white disheveled hair. His arms were still long and lean from days of physical labor. They still looked just like Gregory remembered in his nightmares. Even the tattoo was the same. A blue anchor on his left forearm.

Carl saw only his wife as he said, “Damned I-10 traffic. I almost—”

His mouth stayed open. His eyes went wide despite the fatigue and wrinkles.

“Well, if it isn’t dear old step-dad. You’re just in time.”

66

It wasn’t until Maggie hung up that she remembered why Carl and Isadora Ramsey sounded familiar. She’d met the pair last June. They were Taylor Donahue’s in-laws. After a battle with a madman obsessed with controlling the young nurse, Maggie had helped explain the situation to the Ramseys. Back then, the couple had sole custody of Taylor’s son, and she worried they would try to blame her for what happened.

The meeting would have been uneventful except for the formality of it. Dora Ramsey seemed more concerned with how she served her FBI guest. There was tea to be had. Iced sweet tea presented in a crystal pitcher with matching glasses. Lemon slices aligned perfectly on a small porcelain plate alongside a bowl of sugar cubes and cookies. The aroma permeated the house of the fresh-baked cookies.

She appeared fascinated that Maggie worked at Quantico, as if that elevated her stature in Dora’s eyes. Ever the profiler, Maggie could tell the woman was only interested as she tried to figure out how she might use this new connection in the future. At the time, Maggie didn’t care if it meant Taylor would be left in good standing with her in-laws and have access to her son. She had no idea that six months later, Taylor would still be battling for custody.

Before she left Pensacola Beach, Maggie tried to call Ryder. His phone went directly to voice mail. Of course, he and Grace must still be out searching. Then she tried to call Sheriff Norwich. Again, directly to voice mail. This time, she left a detailed message and contact number.

She was about to barge into the middle of an active search. She didn’t want to alert Dora Ramsey, but she did need to notify law enforcement.

When her cell phone rang, she grabbed it expecting Norwich. It was Alonzo.