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Intrigued, Eve lifted her eyebrows. “More like a dozen. Let’s talk about that.”
Philadelphia Jones rocked back on her heels as if Eve had punched her.
“What? A dozen? My kids!” She zipped around the workstation, would have barreled straight through Eve for the door if Eve hadn’t thrown up a hand to stop her.
“Hold it!”
“I need to—”
“Sit down,” Eve interrupted. “First explain why you jumped straight to murder.”
“I know you. I know who you are, what you do. What’s happened? Is it one of our kids? Which one?”
The Icove case, Eve thought. When you had a bestselling book and a major vid based on one of your cases, people started recognizing you.
Well, that, and being married to Roarke.
“We’re here about murders, Ms. Jones, but not recent ones.”
“I don’t understand. I should sit down,” she decided, and worked her way over to the sitting area. “It’s not about my kids? I’m sorry. I apologize.” She took a couple steadying breaths. “I’m not usually so . . . reactionary.”
“Why don’t I get you some water,” Peabody began.
“Oh, thank you, but I’ll ask the matron to bring in some tea, and she should reschedule my next session.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“You’re so kind.”
“No problem.” Peabody slipped out.
“Please sit,” Philadelphia told Eve. “Again, I’m so sorry. I read the Icove book, of course—and slipped out just the other night with a friend to see the vid. It’s all very fresh in my mind, so when I saw you, I jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”
“Understood.” Eve took a chair, and Philadelphia’s measu
re. Calmer now, Eve thought, but still shaken.
Middle forties, she judged. Conservatively dressed, simple hair, small studs in the ears.
Like the room: neat, tidy, and nothing fancy.
“You and your brother once ran this organization out of another location.”
“No, HPCCY has always been housed here. You must mean The Sanctuary. That’s what we called our original home. Oh, we struggled there,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “In every way. Not enough funding, not enough staff, and the building itself a maintenance nightmare. We weren’t able to keep up the payments—we rushed into buying that building, I’m afraid, without clearly thinking it through. It housed war orphans during the Urbans.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“It seemed like a sign, so Nash and I rushed in. We found out there’s a reason angels fear to tread,” she said with that wispy smile again. “But we learned quite a bit, and with that, God’s grace, and the generosity of our benefactor, we were able to create this home, and offer the children who need us much more than a sanctuary.”
Peabody slipped back in. “Tea will be right along.”
“Thank you so much. Please sit. I was just explaining to Lieutenant Dallas how Nash and I—my brother—were able to expand our horizons when we relocated here. Fifteen years ago last September. Time goes quickly, sometimes much too quickly.”
“What do you do here, exactly?” Eve asked her.
“We offer children between the ages of ten and eighteen a clean, safe environment along with the necessary mental, spiritual, and physical aids to help them conquer addictions, to help them learn to make good choices, and build strong character. We’re a route for the children, and their guardians toward a protective and contented life.”
“How do you get them—the kids?”
