The Running Girls(76)
“Understood. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Anything I can do to help?” said Laurie, returning to the radio room as she waited for Remi to get back to her.
Silver Beard didn’t miss a beat, handing her a spare headset. Calls were finding their way in by different means. Rescue groups were spread across the region, including the Coast Guard’s boat and helicopter teams. Laurie took the calls as best she could. All she could really do was relay the information on, the rescue teams having to make the tough decisions on what to prioritize.
Remi called ten minutes later. Breathless, he said, “I think I’ve got the information we need, boss. Sadie Cornish did move to Corpus Christi, but that was forty years ago. But there’s more. She had a baby boy around seven months after she left Galveston.”
It took Laurie some indeterminable time—ten seconds? a full minute?—to process this information.
“It could be Frank’s,” she said. “That could explain the DNA profile found on Grace’s body.”
“Exactly,” said Remi, his voice an excited rush. “But that’s not all.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense here, Remi.”
“Both Sadie’s parents died a few years after Sadie left Galveston. They had kept a small property on Bolivar, which they used to rent out. Sadie returned there with her son.”
“Who was the son?”
“The son was called Bill Cornish.”
“Was? What, he died?”
“Nope. Changed his name when he was eighteen, before he started at Texas State University, following which he went to law school. We know him, boss. Had him at the station the other night.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Sorry, not this time. Maurice Randall’s lawyer, Neil Mosley, used to be Bill Cornish, and I guess if the math is right, he could be Frank Randall’s son.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Had Laurie seen something of David in Neil Mosley, or was she reimagining the past to fit in with the present? In retrospect, they had similar builds and the same strong blue eyes shared with Frank Randall. But David and Mosley had different mothers and if Frank hadn’t managed to recognize his son, then how could she have been expected to?
That was presuming Frank hadn’t known that Mosley was his son. From the piecemeal information Remi kept sending her way, Neil Mosley had been representing Maurice Randall since not long after Frank was sentenced for Annie’s murder. Again, Laurie had to face the possibility that Frank had been playing her all along. He’d never mentioned Sadie in all the time she’d spent with him, and the fact that David could have an older half-brother was still something she was struggling to come to terms with.
If it was true, how and what she was going to tell David was beyond her at that moment. That his father had hid the information of a brother from him was going to be tough to bear, but what if Annie had known as well? Laurie couldn’t imagine the betrayal he would feel at finding that out, and wished that she could somehow protect him from the knowledge. But she was getting ahead of herself. Neil Mosley was definitely someone they needed to find, but for now they had no proof he was related to Frank.
“I’m going to try and get back to the island,” said Remi, after he’d provided her with the last known address they had for Sadie Cornish and Mosley, both on the Bolivar Peninsula.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Remi. They aren’t letting anyone back and you have to look after that family of yours. You would never forgive yourself if Ava went into labor and you were stuck here.”
Remi sighed. “I don’t want to patronize you, boss, but you will look after yourself, won’t you?”
“I’ll do my best, Remi.”
“It’s just that . . . I don’t think I have the patience to break in a new partner.”
“You’re lucky you’re in Houston, Detective,” said Laurie, with a smile. “Radio in if any more information comes to light,” she added, before breaking the connection.
She radioed Filmore on her way back to the main hall, where she searched for Warren and David. The place was emptying, everyone avoiding the cloying atmosphere and the stink inside that seemed only to be intensifying. The majority of people had filtered outside, the atmosphere muted as signs of the hurricane’s damage reminded them of what they’d endured. The storm surge had retreated, but all power was still off. In the radio room, Laurie had dealt with numerous cases of people who were stranded or had been stuck inside for the last two days with no power. In many ways, those here were the lucky ones, even if it didn’t feel like it now.
Filmore answered and she told him about Neil Mosley. “I want to go to Bolivar,” she said.
“Are you crazy? We’re taking people off that place at the moment, not putting them back.”
“I need to find him. I think Frank Randall is in danger, and he might not be the only one.”
“And how are you intending on getting there? Swimming?”
“I’m going to go over with one of the rescue teams. I just need your permission, Lieutenant.”
The line went quiet and Laurie imagined Filmore cursing her. “I can’t authorize this, Laurie, I’m sorry. Not until conditions have improved and we have a better handle on things.”