Winter's Child

shoulder. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.” He handed Cal the TV re-mote. “Be right back, buddy.”

As we walked down to the elevator, he thumbed his phone and called Paul’s office. It was too early for the chief to be there, but when one of his officers answered, Dwight identified himself. “Any chance of getting a car over to the hospital to take my wife to the Morrow House?”

By the time we walked outside, a patrol car had pulled up to the curb. It was freezing cold and I was glad for my coat and gloves. Dwight gave me the key to the house and I promised to be back within the hour with coffee.

“No chasing up any more secret staircases,” he told me as he opened the car door.

“You got it,” I said, sliding in next to a young patrol officer.

Our lips touched, then Dwight closed the door.

“I appreciate the ride,” I told the officer as we drove down the hill to the center of town.

“No problem, ma’am. Things are usually pretty quiet on a Monday morning.” He looked barely old enough to drive, much less carry a gun. I can’t decide if I’m getting older or recruits are getting younger. “Heard y’all had a lot of excitement last night.”

“We did,” I agreed. “Were you there?”

“No, ma’am. I’m pulling eleven-to-sevens this month, but man! I must’ve been in that Morrow House a half- dozen times since I was a little kid in the Cub Scouts and nobody ever said a word about secret passages and hidden rooms. That’s awesome.”

“Sounds like something out of a movie, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see it. You reckon they’ll open it to the public?”

“Probably,” I said, thinking they’d be dumb not to. It would be a terrific drawing card and surely Betty Ramos had to be happy to see her suspicions confirmed. This was going to make everyone reevaluate old Peter Morrow and his reputation for playing both ends against the middle. No wonder his wife protested the closets under the main staircase. Had they been caught, the house would have been torched and he would have been shot or lynched as a traitor to the cause. Blood ran hot out in these hills during the Civil War. And not just during, but 30 long after. Even now, I was willing to bet there would be plenty who would feel he had slimed the Morrow name.

On the other hand, he might have been genuinely conflicted—hating slavery, but loving the South? After all, he’d lost a son to that war. A daughter, too, if the ro-mantic tales of a young girl’s broken heart were true.

At the Morrow House, I thanked my driver again.

Chivalry is not totally dead. Before driving off, he waited until I’d cranked my car and had actually backed out of the parking space.

A state trooper’s car sat in front of the house and I saw lights on inside, but I had promised to get back to the hospital quickly, so I didn’t stop to see if there were any new developments.

By the time I got to Jonna’s house, the eastern sky was a bright pink and gold as the sun edged up to the horizon.

Once inside, I realized that the bag Dwight had packed for Cal on Friday probably held everything he would need this morning.

Friday. Only three days ago.

A weekend.

Normally, I would be walking into the courthouse this Monday morning, greeting clerks and attorneys—

“So, hey, how was your weekend?”

“Get much done this weekend?”

“ Y’all go away for the weekend?”

—the casual chatter as another workweek begins.

Three days ago, I was a bride of one month, still adjusting to a husband, still learning not to say, “Oh, sure, I’ll be there, sounds like fun” before I checked to see if his idea of a fun weekend was the same as mine.

From now on, there would be a child to consider as well. And not just any child, but one whose mother had been brutally murdered, who would be grieving, who would probably resent the hell out of me because I was alive and she wasn’t.

“Two days ago, you stood in this very house and promisedthat if Cal was safely returned, you’d do whatever neededdoing,” my internal preacher reminded me.

“Your mother took on eight sons when she married theirdaddy,” said his pragmatic roommate. “Are you eighttimes less the woman?”

I straightened my shoulders, put my makeup kit in a tote bag, and added Dwight’s toiletry bag and a complete change of clothes for Cal.

As I locked the door and started down the walk, I saw Jonna’s neighbor peering from the window and went over to tell him that we’d found Cal.

“Now, I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “It’s real bad about his mother, though. I reckon the funeral will be tomorrow?”

I told him we’d let him know as soon as we knew for sure.

On the way back to the hospital, I swung past a fast-food window to pick up two cups of steaming hot coffee and some sausage biscuits and was back in Cal’s room before he’d finished his breakfast.