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"I couldn't come up to y'all and just say who I was--I'd get violated back--so I got copies of a bunch of books Geneva read when she was young. So she'd know the note was really from me."
"What note?"
"Wrote her a note, put it in one of the books."
Cooper rummaged through the bag. In a battered copy of The Secret Garden was a slip of paper. In careful handwriting were the words: Gen baby, this is from your father. Please call me. Beneath this message was his phone number.
Sellitto stepped back into the doorway. He nodded. "Talked to the Carlson woman. Everything he said checks out."
Rhyme asked, "Geneva's mother was your girlfriend, not wife. That's why Geneva's not 'Jackson'?"
"That's right."
"Where do you live?" Bell asked.
"Got a room in Harlem. A Hundred Thirty-sixth. Once I found Geneva I was going to bring her back to Buffalo till I got permission to come back home." His face grew still and Rhyme saw what he believed was pure sorrow in his eyes. "But I don't think there's much chance of that happening now."
"Why?" Sachs asked.
Jax gave a wistful grin. "I saw where she lives, that nice place near Morningside. I was happy for her, of course, real happy. She'll have herself two good foster parents taking care of her, maybe a brother or sister, which she always wanted but that didn't work out, after Venus had such a bad time at the clinic. Why'd Geneva wanta come back with me? She's got the life she deserves, everything I couldn't give her."
Rhyme glanced at Sachs with a raised eyebrow. Jax didn't catch it.
His story was sounding legit to Rhyme. But he had a thick vein of policeman's skepticism in him. "I want to ask you a few questions."
"Anything."
"Who's the aunt you mentioned?"
"My father's sister. Lilly Hall. She helped raise me. Widow twice over. She'd've turned ninety this year. August. If she's still with us."
Rhyme had no clue about her age or birthday but that was the name Geneva had given them. "She's still alive, yes."
A smile. "I'm glad about that. I've missed her. I couldn't find her either."
Bell said, "You told Geneva something about the word 'sir.' What would that've been?"
"I told her even when she was little to look people in the eye and always be respectful, but never to call anyone 'sir' or 'ma'am' unless they earned it."
The Carolina detective nodded to Rhyme and Sachs.
The criminalist asked, "Who's Charles Singleton?"
Jax blinked in surprise. "How d'you know about him?"
"Answer the man, scurv," Dellray snapped.
"He's my, I don't know, great-great-great-great-grandfather or something."
"Keep going," Rhyme encouraged.
"Well, he was a slave in Virginia. His master freed him and his wife and gave 'em a farm up north. Then he volunteered to be in the Civil War, you know, like in that movie Glory. He came back home after, worked his orchard and taught at his school--an African free school. Made money selling cider to workers building boats up the road from his farm. I know he got medals in the war. He even met Abraham Lincoln once in Richmond. Just after the Union troops took it over. Or that's what my daddy said." Another sad laugh. "Then there was this story he got himself arrested for stealing some gold or payroll or something and went to jail. Just like me."
"Do you know what happened to him after prison?"
"No. Never heard anything about that. So, you believe that I'm Geneva's father?"
Dellray looked at Rhyme, cocked an eyebrow.
