Not One of Us(23)

Grace returned to the sofa, and I sat across from her again. “I inherited this house,” she informed me. “You may not think it’s much, but after living on the streets a few years, this place is like the Taj Mahal to me.”

“It’s a perfectly nice house,” I hastened to assure her.

A ginger kitty sprang up from nowhere and leaped into Grace’s lap. She stroked its fur as gently and reverently as though it were a baby.

“With God’s help, I’m going to make it this time. Muffin here is depending on me.” With a final rub behind its ear, she looked up at me. “I’m going to AA every night. I’ve got a steady job at the Suzy Q Diner, and I’m paying restitution for court costs. I had it garnished from my check so’s to make sure it gets paid first thing.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. I imagine it’s hard to start over and work through everything.”

“You a psychologist or something? Or a social worker?” Again, the flash of suspicion crossed her face.

“No, nothing like that.” I squirmed in my seat, unable to keep up the charade. There was nothing for it but to get down to the matter at hand. “I’m here about the baby you gave up for adoption. Jackson Earl Fairhope.”

Grace’s back went rigid, and her arms lay still in her lap, Muffin temporarily forgotten. Her face registered a mixture of hope, dread, and shock. “Wh-what?” Then her eyes darkened with stark fear. “Is something wrong? He doin’ okay?”

I skirted the question. “It must have been hard, giving him up for adoption.”

She didn’t speak for several moments, her throat spasming as she visibly tried to regain composure. A single tear slid down her cheek, inky with black mascara. “No,” she choked. “You’re wrong about that. It was easy. Too easy. I could blow smoke up your ass and tell you I did it for the baby’s sake, to give him a better life with a nice family. But that would be a lie.”

Her throat clogged with emotion before she drew a deep breath and spoke again. “I was offered ten thousand dollars, a fortune, more money than I’d ever seen at one time in my entire life. And you know what was important to me? Not raising my baby, that’s for damn sure. All I could see was a life full of blissed-out highs. One after another after another. And so on, and so on. Ecstasy.”

The tears came faster now, and she gave a hollow laugh.

“Who was it?”

She blinked at me, and I had the feeling she’d been a million miles away, experiencing a quantum jump to the past when the monster of her addiction had swallowed up any love and hope for a better life with her child. “Who was what?” she asked numbly.

“Who offered you the ten thousand dollars?”

“I-I can’t rightly remember. It was some young man, an attorney arranging a private adoption. Can’t recall the name.”

“Did you sign any papers?”

“I reckon so.” Grace tapped an index finger against a rotted front tooth as she considered the question. “Yes, yes, I did, come to think of it.”

“Do you still have those documents?” I asked hopefully.

She snorted. “Even if I had wanted to keep that miserable reminder of what I’d done, I was hardly in a position to be filing away important papers. I was on the streets with no thought but how to score my next high and where to eat and sleep for the night.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about the arrangement you agreed to?”

“No. That period of my life is nothing but a blur. Thank God. Why are you so interested? Am I in some kind of trouble after all these years?”

“Not at all. I’m, uh, a friend of the family who adopted your child.” I rose quickly—there was nothing more to be gained interrogating the woman. “Thank you for your time. I don’t want to keep you from your meeting.”

I tried to sweep past, but she grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and held on with a surprising firmness. “And Jackson? He’s all right?” A smile lit her eyes. “Does he want to meet me after all these years?”

“No, I didn’t come to arrange a meeting.”

Hope washed out of her body in a whoosh, and her shoulders slumped.

My words were true enough. But I had to leave Grace with something, some small measure of comfort. I wouldn’t be the one responsible for destroying her recovery. Let her live in her respectable little house, attend her AA meetings, and keep the illusion that her son was living a good life.

I extracted myself from her grip. “Thanks for your time, Grace. Your son was raised by a family who loved him well. I’m sure you made the right choice.”





Chapter 7


TEGAN


“Hey, rookie. Surprised you’re late for work today. How’s your big case going?” Deputy Mullins greeted me with a sardonic grin as I entered the station. Deputies Sinclair and Haywood looked up from the paperwork on their desks.

“Got it solved yet?” Haywood asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Sinclair had to chime in with his two cents. “Heard you were looking a little green around the gills the other day.”

“Screw y’all,” I answered cheerily, heading to the coffeepot and pouring a cup. This morning had been a disaster with the twins. Linsey had overslept, and in the rush to eat breakfast and catch the bus, Luke had knocked over an entire carton of orange juice. The kids had tried to help mop up the mess and missed the bus . . . which meant I’d had to drive them to school and get caught up in the mommy lane drop-off for twenty minutes.