Anywhere She Runs

by Webb, Debra

  Adeline could only stare at the man she’d thought she knew. But like everything else about her past, she hadn’t known half the story. “My father didn’t possess the capacity to hate.” That Adeline knew for a certainty.

  Cyrus moved his head in agreement. “I didn’t deserve his compassion. I hated myself enough for the both of us. Your father was worried sick about your mother. Months passed. Joan told him that she stayed in bed all the time. Wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even Joan. We were losing her.”

  We? Adeline couldn’t deny that Cyrus’s feelings for her mother were real. Jesus. Adeline swiped at her eyes, ordered herself not to cry again. She’d had no idea about his feelings or about how her mother had suffered as a young woman. None at all. How could she have not recognized how complicated her mother’s life had been? Not paying attention, that was how. Adeline had only been worried about herself and her career.

  “I realized I had to do something,” Cyrus said. “I went to the church and spoke to the priest.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t set foot inside those doors in years. But your mother and father were faithful members. I explained the dire situation.” He drew in a deep breath. “Two weeks later I received a call.”

  Tremors worked their way along Adeline’s limbs. “From the church?”

  Cyrus gave a nod of confirmation. “Your father and I met with a priest named Grayson. That same night we drove all the way to Cincinnati. It was three or four o’clock in the morning when we arrived at Joan’s.” Cyrus’s expression reflected his unwillingness to apologize for his actions, then or now. “We brought you to her and suddenly she was alive again. The light returned to her eyes.” A sad smile haunted his lips. “She came back to us. We brought the two of you home that very day. Everyone thought your mother had gone to Cincinnati and had the baby. No one ever knew any differently. You were such a tiny thing, by the time your parents started to show you off, no one seemed to notice you were older than a couple of months.”

  Why hadn’t Grayson told Adeline that? Emotions she couldn’t label churned inside her. The idea that she had in fact been whisked away in the middle of the night shook her. Another realization hit hard on the heels of that one. No matter how sweetly Cyrus painted this story, the bottom line would be the same. “How much did I cost you?” The roiling emotions coalesced into one—anger.

  “That information is between me and the church.” Cyrus met her angry gaze with lead in his own.

  Try as she might, Adeline couldn’t hold on to the anger. She felt dazed. This was . . . difficult to take in. Like everything else she’d learned the past few days. “Wait.” Another question jarred her. “Where did the baby pictures of me come from?” If she was six months old when her biological parents were murdered . . . how had her mom and dad gotten those photos?

  “The priest gave them to us. He’d gone through the Solomon photo albums, since there was no family to pass them onto, and collected the photos of each child—alone—and sent those to the new parents.”

  “This is . . .” Adeline couldn’t find the words to adequately quantify or encapsulate these incredible facts. She put her hands up in front of her. “Unbelievable.”

  At least now she knew how Prescott’s family had photos of Cherry as a baby despite the fact that she’d been four when she came to them. Adeline imagined that if Prescott survived this, she—like them all—would need some serious therapy. Evidently, she’d totally repressed any recall of her own early childhood until her daughter had turned four. Now that Adeline thought about it, this was the reason Prescott’s family had moved to Hattiesburg when she was four. And Arnold’s had moved to Wiggins when she was two. That was part of the deal, they had to extract themselves from their former lives to some degree to limit the questions. But what about extended family?

  Adeline pushed aside the mounting questions. All those issues could be sorted out another time . . . not that they really mattered. What mattered was finding those women—her sisters—alive.

  And stopping the man who had done this. She stared down at her mother. She was gone. Nothing Adeline did or thought or said would bring her back . . . the agony swelled in her chest once more.

  “I did what I had to do to save my family,” Cyrus said, that commanding tone he generally used back in full force. “I make no apologies for that.”

  Adeline arrowed him an incredulous look. “What do you want me to do, old man?” she demanded. “Give you a medal?”

  “I expect you to do what needs to be done.” Fury tightened his face. “Kill the bastard who did this.”

  Adeline sliced her hand through the air, cutting him off. Did he think she was a fool? That he could come in here spouting this fairy tale and have her suddenly seeing him in a different light? The idea of all the time she’d lost with her mother because of him abruptly bobbed to the surface of all the other churning emotions. “You know, if you loved my mother and father so much—paid whatever the price for me—why the hell did you threaten my life nine years ago?” That made no fucking sense at all. The bastard had run her clear out of Mississippi. He’d never treated her with anything but disdain. Was she just supposed to buy this damned story?

  “To protect you,” Cyrus admitted, though he looked away as he did. “Gage was my son. I loved him no matter who and what he was. I knew that none of his or Sheriff Grider’s supporters would sit back and allow you to get away with the part you played in his death. As long as you were here, your life was in danger and I couldn’t protect you from the fallout.”

  Adeline wasn’t going to waste her breath arguing with him about her so-called part in Gage’s death. Nor could she swallow his too pat answer. “You hated me.” She let him see the frankness in her eyes. “And, I always got the distinct impression that my mother hated you as much as I did.”

  Pain, fierce and genuine, flickered in his eyes, taking Adeline aback yet again. “She despised me most of the time, but she always came to me for help. That was enough for me.”

  Then Adeline understood why her mother would never move to Huntsville. “That’s how you kept her here.”

  “I couldn’t bear the idea of her moving away.”

  “So you made her stay. That was the price for your so-called protection of me.” That cold reality slid through Adeline’s muscles, settled in her bones. This selfish piece of shit had blackmailed her mother into staying put.

  Adeline had to get out of here. She didn’t want to be in this room with him any longer. She bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Love you,” she murmured. Then she raised up and said to Cyrus, “Get out.” She didn’t want him alone in this room with her mother.

  He held her gaze a moment before rolling his chair back from the bed and moving toward the door. She went around him and opened it wide. Hatred seared through her veins. Nothing he’d said had changed how she felt. He was a selfish bastard.

  Those beady brown eyes locked with hers one last time. “You remember what I said, Addy. You do it for your mother.”

  She bit her lips together to prevent telling him to go to hell. She would find Jamison all right and she would see that he got what he deserved.

  But it wouldn’t have anything to do with her uncle or anything he had to say.

  When Everett had ushered Cyrus away, Adeline took one last look at her mother then walked out of the room and let the door close behind her.

  The only thing she could do for her mother now was to see that justice was served.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Wyatt. “We need to get a new search started.” The old woman, Nichols, had insisted that Prescott and Arnold were being held in a building near the water. Around here that could be most anywhere, but they had to start somewhere.

  “Addy.” Wyatt stopped her, a hand on her arm, when she would have headed for the elevators.

  She saw the worry in his eyes. “Don’t say it, Wyatt. Don’t say anything. Let’s just find this bastard.”

  He hesitated but then nodded.

  Her
mind spun with possibilities as they started for the elevators. “We need to know how this thing started.” Since their identities had been protected and Grayson hadn’t spoken to anyone related to this investigation, the answer could very well lie with the steps Prescott had taken to find the truth. They needed to determine who else Prescott may have spoken to here or elsewhere. Since she’d disappeared in the area and Adeline’s mother hadn’t given Prescott what she wanted, had someone else? Or had Jamison followed her here?

  Who had started this thing? Prescott or Jamison? Bottom line, they needed to know who else might be involved in this somehow. Someone Prescott or Jamison had spoken to. Detectives Ferguson and Cummings were questioning Prescott’s parents again, considering what they’d learned in the past twenty-four hours. Arnold’s parents were deceased. But someone somewhere had to know something.

  Since they’d had no luck finding Jamison or the victims from the perspective of how, when, and where they had gone missing, the goal was to continue looking, of course, but also to reconstruct the steps taken by each known player and see where the map led. To find the spot where their paths intersected.

  “Just so you know,” Wyatt said, “whatever steps we take, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.”

  “I know how to take care of myself, Wyatt.” Her mother was dead, yes. Adeline felt . . . vulnerable, yes. But she wasn’t going to tolerate him starting that whole protective bullshit again. “I’ve had training, not to mention a decade of experience, that Prescott and Arnold don’t have. I figure that’s why Jamison is taking his time coming after me. He has to plan the event just right. And when he strikes, I’ll be ready.”

  Wyatt started to argue—

  “Ms. Cooper!”

  Adeline turned back to the nurse’s station. “Yes?”

  The nurse motioned for Adeline to return to the desk. Was she supposed to sign something?

  Her mother was dead. More of that overwhelming misery rose inside her.

  Adeline turned, her movements on autopilot, and headed back to the nurse’s station. Wyatt stayed close behind her. A man stood at the counter, he glanced back once. Young. Not bald. Not Jamison. Adeline shook off the paranoia. Jamison wasn’t here. He’d already done the worst he could here. He would be watching Adeline, that was a certainty, but not this openly.

  “Yes?” Adeline glanced from the nurse who’d called her name to the young man still loitering at the counter and back to the nurse.

  “This was delivered for you.” The nurse gestured to the huge bouquet of flowers on the counter.

  “I was told to bring the flowers here,” the young man explained. He shrugged. “I figured you were a patient.”

  Anticipation detonated deep in her veins. Adeline reached for the envelope, picked it up by the very top corner and looked at the name.

  Adeline Cooper.

  What the hell?

  While Adeline considered the envelope, Wyatt started questioning the delivery guy.

  A tinge of fear diluted the pounding adrenaline. “I need latex gloves,” Adeline said to anyone listening.

  The nurse immediately collected a pair and passed them to Adeline. The delivery guy was sweating bullets. Insisting he had no idea who ordered the flowers. It had been done by phone. The guy had used one of those gift cards purchased at Wal-Mart. Was he under arrest? he wanted to know.

  Ignoring the freaked-out guy, Adeline carefully extracted the single white card from the envelope. The printed letters were not the usual MO since the perp had called in the order, but the words screamed out at her.

  It’s time, princess.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Jackson County Sheriff’s Office, 10:30 A.M.

  The briefing had gone on too long. Adeline couldn’t sit here much longer. Cummings and Ferguson were sending some of their troops to assist with the search. Half an hour from now they would divide up into groups and begin. Couldn’t happen fast enough for Adeline.

  Wyatt had attempted to get her to eat. She couldn’t. She just needed to focus on the investigation. To find Jamison. And make him pay.

  “Detective Cooper.”

  Adeline jerked to attention, scanned the faces around the table.

  “I want you to know,” Detective Ferguson said via the teleconferencing system, “how deeply sorry I am for your loss. I’m certain it’s very difficult for you to continue assisting with this investigation.”

  Cummings chimed in with a similar sentiment.

  Adeline managed a nod. “Thank you.”

  The silence that followed closed around her, suffocating her. “I . . .” She stood, sending her chair sliding backward. “I need to . . .” She skirted the long conference table and rushed for the door. In the corridor she made a mad dash for Wyatt’s office. She needed to be alone.

  The breakdown was coming and she couldn’t stop it. To allow anyone to witness it . . . she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow anyone to doubt her ability to continue being part of this investigation.

  The secretary didn’t try and stop her as she twisted the knob and pushed inside Wyatt’s office. Adeline let the door close and sagged against it.

  Her whole life, the one thing she’d been relatively certain of was who she was. Even when the bullshit had gone down over Gage’s death, she hadn’t once questioned herself as an officer of the law or as a woman.

  She looked at her hands, turned them palms up and studied the lines there, then the veins beneath the pale skin of the backs of her wrists. She had no Cooper blood in her veins. She hadn’t gotten the blond hair and blue eyes from her great aunt on her mother’s side.

  Her mother was dead. Murdered.

  Because of her.

  Adeline hugged her arms around herself. She had no one. She was alone.

  Wyatt’s image swam before her eyes.

  No . . . he . . . they were over. Too much time had passed. He had a life. So did she. A life she would return to as soon as this was over.

  She would go back to Huntsville and get her promotion. Her life would resume.

  Her life? What a joke. How could she just pretend that nothing had changed?

  Her mother was dead!

  Adeline didn’t even know who she was anymore.

  She pushed away from the door. Grabbed her courage with both hands. “Adeline Maureen Cooper.” She was from Pascagoula, Mississippi, where she had at least one shithook for a cousin and an old bastard of an uncle.

  All that Cyrus had said whipped around inside her.

  He had nothing to do with who she was. She was Irene and Carl Cooper’s daughter. A good cop . . . if not a good daughter.

  Stop. Letting herself go down that road would only hinder what she had to do. She would be okay. As soon as she took care of Jamison. Made him pay for what he’d done. A sob twisted inside her. She would be okay.

  “Damn it.” She refused to cry again. “Suck it up, Cooper.”

  Her mouth tightened with the anger lingering around the edges of the pain. She had a job to do here. Her mother was dead. She deserved to have her death avenged. Adeline did not have the luxury of time for this poor-me crap. She was a major crimes detective. She had a killer to catch.

  The urge to run all the way back to Huntsville overwhelmed her for several seconds. She could put all this behind her there. Forget these people . . . this place. This insanity.

  Once the case was closed, she reiterated. Then, going back would make life a hell of a lot easier.

  She didn’t have to look back.

  Just when she thought she could pull it together, her heart pounded so hard it hurt. The facts she had learned in the past twenty-four hours crashed in on her. How could she not have known any of this? She was a cop, for Christ’s sake. Not once had she suspected that her parents had deceived her. Left out this one big important detail.

  Adeline Cooper wasn’t who she thought she was.

  Those moments in her mother’s kitchen when she’d collapsed in Adeline’s arms elbowed t
heir way into her thoughts. She’d been so afraid. The ride to the hospital in that ambulance. Waiting for word. If her mother had died . . . Adeline had been absolutely positive she couldn’t have handled that. Cop or no. She was strong, but she wasn’t that damned strong.

  I didn’t want you to know that you weren’t my little girl.

  The tears escaped, slid down her cheeks.

  And then that bastard Jamison had killed her. Now Adeline had no choice but to handle it.

  Her mother was dead.

  “Goddammit.” She staggered back, collapsed against the wall next to the door and slowly slid to the floor.

  She just wanted her mother to be well and at home, where she had always been. Her whole life Adeline had been able to count on coming home to find her there.

  Until she had selfishly walked away from everything. No, not walked—run . . . she’d run as fast as she could. Why the hell had she let that old bastard send her running? She’d pretended not to give a shit. Had even pretended the decision had been hers and had nothing to do with Cyrus’s edict.

  Lies. All of it. She’d lied to herself and everyone she cared about. How could she hold her parents’ decision of nondisclosure against them when she was just as guilty of holding so very much back?

  How could she return to her life in Huntsville knowing all that she knew?

  But then, what the hell did she do when this was finished?

  Go someplace new?

  Running would damned sure be a hell of a lot easier than dealing with all this. Someplace where no one knew her. Where none of this history could find her.

  But she wasn’t twenty-one anymore. Shaking off the dust and heading for new territory would change nothing.

  This was her life. Who she was.

  No matter where she ran, she couldn’t escape herself.