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Ben made the protest Sam wanted to but couldn’t. “It’s slim evidence.”
“That girl is twenty-six now. So is Mila. Her parents were killed in a fiery crash in Arizona fifteen years ago. So were Mila’s. That girl’s gramma—gramma, Sam—searched for her for years, just like Mila’s gramma. Gramma in the book had red hair—so did Jessica. The girl calls her her superhero. Mila says the same about Jessica. Gramma in the book calls her daughter Lin. Jessica’s daughter’s name was Lindy.”
“Maybe Mila knew…” Ben broke off halfway through. Ben and Sam—hell, everyone in the department—had trusted Lois’s instincts way too many times to count. And this time it felt…
God help him, it broke his heart to even think it, but it felt right.
* * *
Mila was sitting on Gramma’s couch, an old quilt spread over her, an ice pack on her wrist as she breathed deeply the savory aroma of chicken broth simmering in the kitchen. Jessica was a big believer in the caring and healing properties of food, and homemade chicken and noodles was at the top of her list. A hen filled the big pot, carrots and onions and celery bubbling along with it. Later she would pull out her rolling pin and the flour and make her own noodles. If they didn’t feel better after the meal, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
When the knock sounded at the door, Jessica waved her aside and went to check the peephole. Wearing a smile as bright as her orange capri set, she opened the door to welcome Sam, Ben and Lois inside. Mila’s smile that came automatically at the sight of Sam faded when she saw the rigid set of his face. It curled and dissolved into ash when she recognized the book he carried. The Unlucky Ones.
Oh, God, they knew. She wanted to throw back the quilt, rush into the bedroom and hide in the darkest corner of the closet, or maybe she could make it past them out the door and up to the rooftop garden. There was a rickety old fire escape still clinging to the back side of the building. It would surely hold her weight long enough to reach the ground, and she could run like hell.
But there was nowhere to run. Her whole life was right here in this apartment: Gramma, Sam and Poppy. She couldn’t leave them no matter how desperately the need clawed at her.
Jessica had seen the book, too, and her face went blank. She stood awkwardly, as if everything in her world had suddenly tilted askew and she didn’t know how to right it. She gestured toward the sofa and chairs but couldn’t come up with the words to invite their guests to sit.
Ben and Lois sat down, and Gramma joined Mila on the couch, but Sam remained standing. Though he didn’t move a muscle from his spot between his two officers’ chairs, there was an air of tension about him, as if he were moving so hard and so fast that not even a blur betrayed him.
He looked as if he might break if he eased his control one whit. She knew the feeling, and she was so very sorry for bringing it into his life.
After a moment, he stepped forward and set the book on the coffee table. She imagined, if she lifted the dust jacket, she would find the impressions of his fingertips on the cover from being squeezed so tightly. “Is that—” His voice was hard, as tightly controlled as his emotions. She almost didn’t recognize it.
Gramma scooted closer to Mila, grasping her right hand tightly. With a whine, Poppy got up from her spot across the room and came to sit in front of them.
“Yes.” The air rushed out of her lungs on a sigh. She’d never thought she would admit that, not ever, and it felt…freeing. As if muscles she hadn’t been aware of had released their tension, as if worry centers in her brain had taken a great sigh of relief. Her biggest, ugliest secret was out, and she hadn’t dropped dead. She hadn’t freaked out, she wasn’t trying to escape, her heart wasn’t exploding.
It might break later, but right now it was beating steady and strong.
“Jane Gama? Is that—”
“Gama is Spanish for a type of deer. A doe. Jane Doe.”
He nodded once. She was surprised he could do that much without shattering. His emotion was that intense. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad or a combination of both. If he pitied her, was repulsed by her, feared she might be as crazy and evil as her parents, if he was horrified he’d kissed her, made love to her and even wanted to introduce her to his family.
