hoping they might use this to trace Dottie and maybe find Lacey Patterson.
'I just had to come down and see for myself,' Paul said, tucking the page back into his pocket. 'To see if she was here.'
Paul waited for Jeffrey to speak, but Jeffrey could not think how to tell the man what had happened to his daughter. What's more, Jeffrey was not sure how he could admit to this man, who had been searching for so many years, that the person who had killed Wendy Jennings was sitting across the desk from him.
'Is she here?' Paul repeated, a hopeful tone to his voice that cut Jeffrey in two.
'I don't know how to say this, Paul, but Wanda has disappeared and Wendy's dead.'
Jeffrey did not know what he had been expecting the other man to do, but the look Paul Jennings gave him was surprising. For a split second, he seemed almost relieved to finally know for a fact where his daughter was, then it seemed to hit him that after all of this time, all of his searching, she was dead. His face fell, and he covered his eyes with his hands for a moment as he started to cry.
'I'm so sorry,' Jeffrey told him.
Paul's voice shook as he asked, 'When?'
'Last Saturday,' Jeffrey said, then explained to Paul exactly what had happened, leaving out the fact that his daughter had been mutilated. Through the entire story, Paul shook his head, as if he could not accept what he was hearing. When Jeffrey revealed his own involvement in Jenny's death, the father's mouth dropped open.
'I didn't…' Jeffrey stopped, because he had been about to say that he did not have a choice. He wasn't so sure about that. Maybe there had been another choice. Maybe Jenny Weaver had not had it in her to pull the trigger. Maybe Jenny Weaver would be alive today.
The two men stared at each other over Jeffrey's desk, neither of them really knowing what to say. Paul's eyes were glazed like he was too shocked by what he had heard to go on.
'With her mother,' Paul finally said, 'I expected the worst.' He pointed to the pictures on Jeffrey's desk. 'That's how I think of her, Mr. Tolliver. I think of my little girl. I don't think of what Wanda did to her, the kind of horrible life she must have lived.' He stopped, choking on a sob. 'I think of my happy little girl.'
'That's best,' Jeffrey said, picking up on the man's grief. Tears came to his eyes, and when Paul saw this, he seemed to lose his reserve.
'Oh, God,' the man said, putting his hand over his mouth. His body shook as he sobbed. 'My poor little girl. My baby. My baby.' He rocked back and forth to soothe himself.
'Paul,' Jeffrey said, his voice thick with his own grief. He reached across the desk to pat the man's arm, but Paul Jennings took Jeffrey's hand in his own. Jeffrey had never held another man's hand before, and it felt odd to be doing so now. Though, if it helped Paul Jennings through his grief, it was the least he could do.
Paul tightened his grip on Jeffrey's hand. 'She was such a sweet girl.'
'I know she was,' Jeffrey agreed, squeezing back. 'My wife, Sara, saw her.' Jeffrey realized suddenly that he had mis-spoken. 'I mean my ex-wife. She's a pediatrician. Sara.'
He looked up, hope in his eyes. 'She saw Wendy?'
'Yes,' Jeffrey told him. 'Sara said she was a bright girl. Very intelligent, very sweet. She had a caring heart.'
'Was she healthy?'
Jeffrey lied on purpose this time. There was no reason to tell this father what his daughter had been through. 'Yes,' he said. 'She was very healthy.'
Paul released Jeffrey's hand and picked up the photograph of his daughter. 'She was always sweet, even as a baby. You can just tell with some kids. She had such a good heart.'
Jeffrey took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. At the last minute he realized he should have offered it to Paul.
'I'm sorry,' Jeffrey said.
'I don't blame you,' Paul told him. 'I blame her. I blame Wanda. She took my child. She did those horrible things to her.' He cleared his throat and wiped his nose with his hand. 'She put all of this into motion by being the kind of person she is.' He locked eyes with Jeffrey. 'I don't blame you,' he repeated, his tone vehement. 'Don't live with that guilt, Mr. Tolliver. I've lived with guilt my entire life. What if I had never married her? What if I had listened to the rumors? What if I had let the police check my little girl to see if her mother…?' He put his hand to his mouth, and again his body shook as he cried.
Jeffrey felt himself tearing up again, and tried to collect himself. All he could think of was Lacey Patterson's school picture on the flier in his desk drawer. He thought about what Jenny had been through, and what Mark still had ahead of him if he managed to pull out of the coma. He thought of Sara, too, and what she must be going through, the guilt she had to be feeling because these were her kids. Hell, they were Jeffrey's kids, too. Maybe because they didn't have any of their own they felt responsible for the whole town. And look at what Jeffrey had let happen. How many children had been hurt because Jeffrey had been blind to the evil going on in his own backyard?
'You did your job,' Paul told Jeffrey, as if reading his mind. 'You did what you had to do to protect that boy.'
Jeffrey had not helped the girl he knew as Jenny Weaver. He had not rescued Mark or Lacey Patterson. He had not protected anyone but Dottie Weaver, who had sat in this very station house and spoon-fed them her lies.
Paul said, 'So much came out after she left town.' He looked down at his hands. 'She did some baby-sitting on the weekends. Those children were abused, too.'
Jeffrey sat up, trying not to let his own grief overshadow Paul's. He asked, 'Was a warrant ever issued?'
'No,' he said, then gave an ironic smile. 'A couple of days later, they issued a warrant to arrest the other woman, but she had left town, too.'
Jeffrey felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he thought about Lacey Patterson. 'What was her name?'
'Markson,' Paul said, wiping his nose again. 'Grace Markson.'
Chapter Sixteen
Lena sat beside Grace Patterson's bed, listening to the slow beeps of the heart monitor beside her. The blind was drawn on the window overlooking the hospital parking lot, but there wasn't much to see at this hour, anyway. Teddy Patterson sat across the bed from Lena in a tall recliner, his head leaned back, his mouth opened as he snored, seeming not to have a care in the world. He had laughed in Lena 's face when she suggested Grace had anything to do with what had happened to their children. Patterson was a con, and he had an innate distrust of cops. Of course, if he was involved in this thing up to his eyeballs, he wasn't likely to come clean and tell Lena where his daughter was being held. Teddy had actually demanded Lena leave, but for some reason Grace had requested she be allowed to stay. He had grumbled, but acquiesced. Patterson's wife had her nails dug so deep into his balls he didn't take a shit without getting her permission first. Grace seemed to be the center of Teddy's life and the longer Lena was in the same room with him, the clearer it was to her that Teddy didn't give a shit for either of his children.
Lena looked at Grace Patterson, watching her sleep, wondering at the power the woman seemed to have over her family. She had refused to be put on a ventilator, but a mask gave her
