The last thing she needed was a fellow detective trying to ferret out the motives of her sudden interest in parenthood.
Her cell phone rang in the middle of a faintly horrifying story of Foley’s first experience with projectile vomiting. She grabbed the phone quickly, grateful for the interruption-until she saw Sam Cooper’s name on the display window.
She stared at the ringing phone, her heart in her throat.
Foley shot her an odd look. “You gonna answer that?”
She braced herself with a deep breath and answered. “Tandy.”
“It’s Sam. Anything on the school photographer?”
His voice was businesslike. Annoyingly normal. Comparing his calm tone to the nervous flutter in her stomach, Kristen grimaced. “We have a name. Darryl Morris.”
“Darryl Morris?” The calm tone in Sam’s voice disappeared. “I know Darryl Morris. And now that I think of it, he just might think he has a damned good reason to hurt me.”
Chapter Ten
Excitement pushed aside any lingering unease Kristen felt. “Detective Foley’s with me. I’m putting you on speaker.” She pushed the button. “How do you know Darryl Morris?”
“About eight months ago, his teenage son was killed in a traffic accident. The other driver had been distracted by his kids, hadn’t seen the light change to red, and he slammed into Charlie Morris’s motorcycle. The kid didn’t have a chance.”
“What does that have to do with you?” Foley asked.
“It was one of my first cases when I joined the Jefferson County D.A.’s office. I was assigned to assess the case and see if any criminal charges should be filed.”
“And you didn’t file any charges,” Kristen guessed, beginning to understand.
“Not criminal charges,” Sam answered. “We worked out a plea deal-the other driver pleaded down to reckless endangerment, was put on probation and did several hours of community service as well as taking a remedial driving course.”
Kristen thought that sounded fair, given the circumstances. But she wasn’t the father of a dead kid. “Morris didn’t think it was enough, right?”
“His only kid was dead. I don’t think anything would have been enough.” There was a hint of bleak understanding in Sam’s voice, and Kristen knew he was thinking about Maddy.
“Did Darryl Morris ever threaten you? Send you any angry letters?” Foley asked.
“He was definitely upset when we told him about the plea deal. There might have been an angry letter or two- I’ll have to check my files. But I don’t remember ever feeling as if he were any kind of real threat to me.”
“Can you meet us at your office?” Kristen asked. “I’d like to take a look at any letters Morris might have sent.”
“I’ll have to bring Maddy. I don’t feel like letting her out of my sight today.”
She glanced at Foley. “That’s okay-Foley can use the extra babysitting practice.”
Foley made a face at her. “I’d better track down Morris, make sure he’s not making a Mexico trip or something.”
“I could do that,” Kristen said quickly.
“Actually, Detective Tandy, I need to see you about another matter anyway,” Sam interjected.
Kristen ignored Foley’s curious look, heat rising up her neck. “I can be in Birmingham in about an hour,” she said, knowing that further protest would only pique her partner’s interest more.
“See you then.” Sam rang off.
“Are you blushing?” Foley asked.
She frowned at him. “What?”
He looked ready to tease her further but stopped himself. “I’ll drop you back at the station to pick up your car.”
She spent most of the drive to Birmingham dreading her arrival, worrying over the “other matter” Sam wanted to talk to her about. Was he going to want to do an extensive postmortem of her behavior the night before? She already knew she’d thrown professionalism out the window. And his willing participation didn’t change the fact that she was the one with the ethical constraints, not him. She was the cop. She was the one who should have behaved better.
The worst part was, she wasn’t sure she regretted it enough. The memory kept creeping up on her when she least expected it, whether at a preshift meeting with Carl and Foley or listening to a preschool principal give her a new lead on the case. Even now, with the air conditioner running full blast and the police radio squawking now and then, she felt Sam Cooper’s warm lips moving with slow, devastating skill over hers as surely as if it had just happened.
She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to drag her focus back to the case. She reached for the phone clipped to her waistband, thinking Foley might have had time to locate Darryl Morris by now. But before she even had a chance to flip it open, the phone rang, making her strained nerves jangle.
The number on the display was unfamiliar, an Alabama area code but not local. She flipped the phone open. “Tandy.”
“Detective Tandy, this is Dr. Victor Sowell with Darden Secure Medical Facility. I’m the psychiatrist in charge of your mother’s case.”
“How did you get my number?” she asked bluntly. If Carl had given the facility her number, she was going to kill him.
“Your mother gave it to me.”
Kristen felt the blood drain from her face. “How the hell did she get it?”
“I’m not certain. It’s one reason I thought I should call you.”
Kristen checked her mirrors and pulled over on the highway. She didn’t want to have this conversation while navigating traffic. She put the car in Park and hit the blue light on the dash to flash. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
“I can’t really discuss the details of your mother’s treatment,” Sowell answered. “I can only tell you that she’s been allowed some privileges recently. Visitors now and then. We allow her to make phone calls on a limited basis, and we monitor them to make sure she’s not harassing anyone.”
“And is she?”
“Not that we’ve been able to ascertain. But she has had a visitor recently. A man showed up yesterday, introducing himself as a lawyer interested in offering her representation pro bono. He said he was with an organization that represents the mentally ill in criminal cases.”
Kristen pulled out her notepad. “Did you get a name?”
“Bryant Thompson. But that’s really why I called,” Dr. Sowell said, his voice troubled. “We had someone check Thompson’s credentials and that of his organization, Humane Justice, just to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull some sort of scam. The organization exists, absolutely. There’s even a Bryant Thompson who works as an attorney with the group.”
“But?”
“But the guy who came to see your mother was definitely not the same Bryant Thompson.”
“DADDY, WHEN’S MISS KRISTEN gonna get here?”
Sam looked up at the sound of his daughter’s plaintive voice, realizing he’d been staring at the same page in the file for the last twenty minutes. Too easily, he’d let his mind wander from the case at hand to the memory of Kristen Tandy’s warm, strong hands moving urgently over his body.
He cleared his throat. “Anytime now, baby.” Kristen had called back thirty minutes ago to let him know she’d gotten held up and would be there as soon as she could.
She’d sounded odd. Troubled. Probably upset about the lines they’d crossed the night before. He supposed he should be, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about ethical lapses when every cell in his body wanted to
