Cut and Run(25)

“Enough with the swearing.”

“So now we’re in 1900? Do you want me to wear a hoop skirt, too?”

“Wrong historical reference and we’re in my office, so don’t swear.”

“So what do we do?” Kat asked.

“I take you back to the shelter. And then I return at 5:30 p.m. and take you to your ob-gyn appointment.”

“I hate it at the shelter.”

Faith reached for her purse. “Let’s go.”

“You’re still wearing scrubs,” Kat persisted.

“I’m coming right back.”

They made their way through the building, and when they were seated inside Faith’s car, her phone rang. It was PJ. “Buckle up.”

More eye rolling as Kat clicked her seat belt.

Faith accepted the call. “PJ.”

“So a little bird, meaning my mother, tells me you broke a few records with your fundraising last night,” he said.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Tina or Margaret yet, but I’m headed to the shelter now.”

“You will be pleased. You did an amazing job.”

“It wasn’t me. You mother needs to take all the credit. No one organizes an event like that better than her.” She put the car in gear and drove to the parking lot exit.

Kat turned on the radio and chose a rap station.

Faith turned it down, shooting her a badass glare that made the girl chuckle. “What else is up, PJ?”

“I also wanted to update you on something else. Remember when you asked me to look into your adoption?”

“Sure. Right after your dad died.” As Kat reached for the radio dial, Faith tossed her a warning look that dared her to try. It did the trick.

She turned right onto the street and made her way to the first stoplight.

“Well, I found a name for you. I’ve been digging through your father’s files for the last few months, and I found nothing. Then it occurred to me to check his old datebooks. I retrieved them from archives a few days ago. Your father was a stickler for keeping meticulous details of his appointments. The book I’m looking at now dates back to 1987.”

The year before she was born. “Okay.”

“Your father had a series of meetings with a woman by the name of Josie Jones. The first meetings were in July of 1987 to discuss a shoplifting charge she was facing. You remember he did a lot of pro bono work then?”

“I remember hearing Mom talk about it.”

“Russell defended Josie and got all the shoplifting charges dropped.”

A horn honked behind her, and she realized the light had turned green. She started driving. “Okay.”

“She appears in his datebook ten more times after her case was cleared. The last entry was May 2, 1988.”

“That was a month before I was born.”

“I had a buddy in robbery pull her picture.” PJ dropped his voice a fraction. “I’ll text it to you. You might be a little stunned.”

“Why?”

“Just have a look at it. I might have found your birth mother.”

She glanced to Kat, wishing she were alone. “I’ll have to call you back later. I’m on my way to the shelter with one of the kids.”

“Sure. Of course.”

She hung up, the phone still gripped in her hand. PJ was efficient and didn’t delay. If he was sending a text, it would be coming soon. Within fifteen seconds the text arrived, and despite her lack of privacy, she glanced at her phone long enough to open the attachment and then back up at the road as the image loaded. When she looked back down, she drew in a sharp breath. She was staring at a black-and-white mug shot of a young girl who looked like her. Blond hair. Light-colored eyes. The face. The lips.

Too stunned and not quite able to process, she dropped the phone in her lap and focused on the road ahead.

“Texting and driving?” Kat quipped.

“I know. It’s a bad combination.”

As if sensing Faith’s unease, Kat held in whatever comeback she had at the ready. “What’s going on with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I might have.”

“Who is it?”

“Josie Jones. She could be my birth mother.”

“Can I see?”

Normally far more guarded, Faith handed over the phone.

“Wow. You do look like her. I didn’t know you were adopted,” Kat stammered.

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m not sure if it’s good or bad,” Kat said.

“It can be a very good thing if handled properly.”

Kat sat in silence for a moment and then handed back the phone. “You’ve never heard anything about your mom before?”

“No. My parents didn’t like to talk about it. And when I was older, I tried to find her. Hit nothing but brick walls.”

A frown settled on Kat’s face, and some of her natural vibrancy faded. “So this Josie Jones just got erased like she never existed.”

The girl’s tone cut through Faith’s own confusion and reminded Faith that Kat was completely dialed in to every word coming out of her mouth. “It doesn’t have to be like that with you and your baby if you choose adoption. Adoptions can be open now. You can have contact with the child, if that’s what you want.”