brother. And I think you know something about what happened to us. Why won’t you help me?”
Sophia Tanner put a trembling hand to her lips. And tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I want to help. Believe me, I do. But I just can’t.”
“You’re protecting someone. Why?” Jessie pressed her for more. “You know something about what happened to Angela, don’t you?”
“No”—the woman shook her head—“not really.”
She’d pushed Sophia Tanner as far as she would go. Jessie saw it in her eyes. The woman was protecting someone very important to her. And no matter what happened because of her meddling, she didn’t look as if she’d say anything more unless she was given no choice.
Chief Cook must have realized that, too.
“I know what you’re hiding, Sophia.” His expression softened, and so did his voice. “You may as well tell us what you know. All I need is a court order, compelling you to provide me a DNA sample. Is that how you want him to find out?”
Sophia Tanner’s eyes watered as she gasped. She crossed her arms and rocked where she sat, muttering things Jessie didn’t understand.
“Him? Can someone clue me in?” Jessie asked.
Cook didn’t answer her. He stared at Sophia, waiting for her to break the strained silence. It didn’t take long for that to happen.
“You were right about Tyrell telling me about that DNA. He was just passing the time, thought I’d be interested since I used to be Angela’s neighbor. But when he told me, I lost it. I just knew someone would put two and two together. And I couldn’t let that happen. I told him what . . . what I did. He was only trying to help me . . . protect someone. It wasn’t his fault.”
Sophia grasped Jessie’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m just so tired. This has been such a burden. I was only trying to . . . do the right thing.”
“I can see that, but please . . .” Jessie begged. “I have to know what happened.”
“You have to promise me that you’ll listen to everything I have to say. Please.”
“I promise.”
Jessie could’ve backed off and sat on the sofa, but she didn’t want to sever the tie she had to the only woman who might know anything about her brother. She was so close to knowing something real that she felt a mounting ache in her belly when Mrs. Tanner opened her mouth to speak again.
“Angela had always been a little standoffish. Like I’d said before, we were never close. I’d talk to her, but she hardly ever offered anything personal back. It was like she was hiding from something . . . or someone,” Mrs. Tanner began. “But one day, a man showed up. I saw him from my bedroom window. He had two children with him. And when he showed, Angela argued with him. They yelled so loud that I almost heard what they said, but they were too far away.”
Jessie could have accused her of not reporting vital evidence, but instead of pointing the finger, she focused on the one thing she thought Mrs. Tanner would respond to.
“I bet those kids were scared, seeing them argue like that.” Jessie tightened her grip on the woman’s hand. “Was I scared, Mrs. Tanner? Was my little brother scared, too?”
“Yes, you were, at first. But when Angela let him into her house, I figured it was a lovers’ quarrel, and everything had blown over. She took you kids in, and everything seemed all right.”
“But it wasn’t all right, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. And I was afraid for you kids. I began to watch that house. Angela’s visitor scared me. He never acted like any father I ever saw. He ignored the little boy, but he never let you out of his sight. I thought that was strange.”
Jessie shut her eyes, blocking out the images that were flooding her mind, dark memories of Millstone. She had to strain to hear Mrs. Tanner go on.
“Then one day that man’s car was gone. I watched and waited to see Angela, but when I saw that precious boy wandering in the field between our two houses without Angela or that man around, I rushed to get him.” When she shook her head and dropped her chin, a tear made a glistening trail down her face. “His little pajamas were covered in blood . . . so much blood. And he was hysterical, crying real hard. I knew something terrible had happened.”
“Did you call the police?” Jessie turned to Chief Cook. “I thought a yardman had found her and called it in.”
Before the chief could speak, Mrs. Tanner broke in.
“I grabbed that boy and held him in my arms until he calmed down. All I could think about was you. I had to know you were all right.” She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath before she went on. “But by the time I got to Angela’s property, the police were already there, and it looked real bad. I don’t know why I did it, but I clung to that little boy. We hid in the bushes, with me rocking him to sleep in my arms. I hid and watched what the police were doing. I swear, I figured you were all right . . . that they had you, but when I read about the murder in the papers, they never mentioned finding a little girl.”
“The police were right there. You could’ve told them what you saw.” Although questions flooded Jessie’s head, one weighed heavier on her mind. “What happened to the boy?”
It took Mrs. Tanner a long time to answer. She sobbed and looked at Chief Cook, who looked miserable with sympathy for her. Cook knew something about what she was about to say. That was why he’d bluffed her into talking.
“That boy is grown up now. His name is Ethan and he lives in Alaska. He’s got a good job, and he’s happy.” Sophia Tanner’s eyes watered again. “I never told him what happened. I just couldn’t.”
“Why? He had a right to know.”
“That boy had a right to a normal life.” The woman raised her voice and glared with a newfound fire in her eyes.
When Jessie glanced at Chief Cook with a puzzled look on her face, he obliged her with an answer.
“Ethan Tanner. He’s her son,” he said.
Jessie collapsed back on her haunches and pulled her hand from Sophia Tanner’s. And without thinking, she stood and looked at every photo the woman had displayed in her living room—seeing her brother’s face for the first time.
In one, he had a white communion suit on. In another, he had cap and gown. Every photo told the story of his life as he grew up. He looked happy, and healthy, and whole. Jessie grabbed the most recent photo and held it in her hands. Her tears splashed onto the glass as she memorized his face and traced a finger down his cheek. He did look happy, and normal, and he was everything a little brother should be in a perfect world.
She clutched the framed photo to her chest and shut her eyes, feeling the sting of tears. If Sophia Tanner had gone to the police right away, Jessie might not have become one of Millstone’s victims. The police could’ve followed his trail sooner, but that would have meant Ethan would have grown up in the foster-care system like she had. And he would’ve suffered through years of therapy like she did, trying to erase the nightmare of witnessing a brutal murder. Sophia Tanner had done the wrong thing, but Ethan looked happy and normal—and loved.
Deep regrets found a dark corner in Jessie’s heart and made the tears come faster, but she had a hard time blaming someone who had raised her brother as if he were her own.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could have found you, too.” Mrs. Tanner’s voice broke through Jessie’s profound sense of grief.
“I couldn’t have children of my own. My husband had left me for someone who could. I felt like such a failure as a woman, but that day I had a little boy in my arms. A beautiful little boy. And it felt so good to hold him and smell his hair and feel his warm skin as he slept. I couldn’t give him up. I just couldn’t.”
“I knew Ethan wasn’t your son, Sophia,” Chief Cook said. “But you told everyone that a sister you had out of state had died and left him with you. Guess that was a lie.”
“I made up a story about having to leave town quickly. One of my sisters had been in a car accident. I told everyone that I stayed to get her affairs in order. So when I came back with Ethan, no one questioned that. And when I adopted him, no one questioned that either.”
Jessie kept her back to the woman, holding on to the photo of Ethan as Mrs. Tanner told the rest of her story. When the woman was done, Jessie turned to face her.
