The elevator arrived. Marlene White alighted, dangling a key fob. “It’s parked in the lot across the drive,” she told him. “Second row. Blue Honda. If you press this button—”

She broke off when she realized that his attention wasn’t on her or the fob, but on Brynn. She climbed into the passenger seat of Wilson’s car. As they drove away, Marlene said, “Such a sweet young woman.”

“Yeah.” The taillights disappeared into the fog. He came back to Marlene. “I mean, I don’t know her. But she seems okay.”

“It’s a miracle how well she turned out, considering her daddy.”

“I heard mention of him. Wes?”

“Quite a character.”

“He’s well known by everybody in the sheriff’s office. Is he a cop?”

Marlene White looked at him, stunned. “Cop? Goodness no. He’s a convict.”

Chapter 10

7:29 a.m.

Brynn and Deputy Wilson were among the handful of diners in the only café in town that was open that morning. A temporary sign taped to the door had notified potential customers that breakfast would be served from seven until ten-thirty and then the café would close for Thanksgiving.

A younger man was slumped in one of the booths and appeared to be nursing a hangover. Brynn linked the loner at the counter to the semi that was parked on the shoulder of the highway. She overheard a man in another booth ask the waitress what the special Thanksgiving breakfast consisted of. She told him that a slice of apple pie was added to the Going Whole Hog menu item. Both he and his companion placed their orders for that.

Except for the waitress, Brynn was the only woman in the place, making her feel conspicuous, and even more so for being seated with a uniformed sheriff’s deputy. She was aware of speculative glances cast their way. Even the young man with the hangover roused himself long enough to look them over.

She toyed with a stack of pancakes and watched Wilson demolish three sunny-side-up eggs and a half-pound slab of smoked ham.

Their meal took all of twelve minutes off the clock.

As the deputy pushed his plate aside, Brynn said, “You don’t have to wait with me. I don’t want to keep you from any plans you have for the day.”

“My ex has the kids. They’ve gone to her mother’s. Actually, I’m relieved to be missing that.”

She smiled across at him, because that’s what he seemed to expect.

But he did look down at his wristwatch and add, “It probably wouldn’t hurt if you called him before nine o’clock. He’s a nice guy, and I feel sure he’ll be willing to help you out. But I’m betting he would just as soon get the business over and done with before the ball games start.”

Brynn figured that it was Wilson who would just as soon have the business concluded before the kickoffs. “I would like to get underway sooner rather than later.”

“So you’ve said. And Dr. Lambert stressed how time-sensitive those blood samples are.”

He eased back and looked under the table to where she’d sat the box on the floor when they’d claimed the booth. “You think one of them will match good enough to be a donor?”

Unlike his partner, Rawlins, Wilson had pleasant features and a benign smile. His interest in the samples seemed sincere. Brynn experienced a twinge of guilt over being less than completely straightforward with him.

In all truthfulness, she said, “We’re hoping for the best possible outcome.”

“Must be tough, being a doctor, having a patient you can’t cure.”

“Tougher than you can imagine.”

“I guess it’s like me having an unsolved case. It gnaws at you.”

“That’s a fitting analogy.”

He nodded. “Well, I don’t want you to be held up any longer. Why don’t I call this guy for you right now and give him the skinny?”

“The request might be better received coming from a law officer. It would seem more official.”

That must’ve stroked his ego. He smiled at her as he reached for his phone. “I’ll ask him to meet us at the dealership at eight o’clock. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect.”

He made the call. By the time he disconnected a few minutes later, a plan was in place. “He can leave right now. He’ll drive a car over here and pick you up, if you don’t mind dropping him back at the car lot on your way out of town.”

“Of course not. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Should take him fifteen, twenty minutes to get here. Then you’ll be on your way. You should let Dr. Lambert know. Relieve his mind.”

“Good idea.” She pulled out her phone and sent Nate a brief text.

After Wilson settled the bill, Brynn draped her coat over her arm and reached beneath the table for the box. “I need to use the ladies’ room, so I’m going to excuse myself. By the time I come out, the man should be here with the car. You don’t need to hang around any longer.”

He put up token resistance as he slid out of the booth, but she was insistent. At the door, they shook hands.

“Good luck with your patient, Dr. O’Neal. If I’m ever terminal, I hope my doctor is as dedicated as you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

He put on his hat, brushed the brim of it with his index finger, and left.

Brynn followed a sign with a red arrow and the word “TOILET” stenciled on it. It led her down a long, barren hallway that ended with a right-angle turn. The restroom was on her left. She locked the door behind her.

After using the commode and washing her hands, she did what repair she could to her dishevelment by applying a lip gloss she’d stuck in a coat pocket before leaving Atlanta. The improvement was slight, but it was the best she could do. She picked up the box, lifted her coat off the hook on the back of the door, and flipped up the lock.

From the other side, the door was thrust open, and Rye Mallett barged in. He reached behind him, shut the door, and locked it.

Astonishment sent Brynn stumbling backward several steps. She dropped her coat but recovered immediately, and shock became outrage. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I want to talk to you.” He bore down on her until he had her backed up against the sink. “I want to talk to you about your father.”

“My father?”

“Dear ol’ dad. That Brynn! My, how you’ve grown scene had led me to believe you were well known because your old man was the sheriff or something. Turns out Wes O’Neal—”

“I know his name.”

“—is a thief! By trade.”

She took a series of short, shallow breaths. “Who told you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, he’s a crook, in and out of county jail so many times, they considered putting a revolving door on his cell. You were a regular at the sheriff’s office. Staff there played dolls with you while waiting on CPS to send someone for you. You used to cry when they tore you away from people like Myra. You—”

“All right,” she snapped. “You’ve made your point.”

“Aw, no. I’m just getting started.”

Although she didn’t think he could possibly get any closer to her, he crowded in. To keep from touching, she had to arch over the sink. “Get back.” She pushed against his chest with her left hand. “I don’t know what you think—”

“What I think is that you’re following in Daddy’s footsteps, upholding the family tradition.” He thumped the lid of the metal box tucked under her right arm. “What’s in the box?”

“You saw what was in it!”

“What I saw, what Rawlins and Wilson saw, was a dog-and-pony show performed by you and your partner in crime, the self-esteemed Dr. Lambert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hell you don’t. I was watching you. When Lambert said, ‘accommodate them,’ you looked like you’d swallowed a bug. You were as surprised as the three of us when Rawlins raised the lid and all we saw were tubes of blood. If that’s what they are.”

“That’s exactly what they are, and I wasn’t at all surprised.”

“Right, more like disbelieving, holding yourself together while Lambert dazzled us with bullshit.”

“Everything he said was scientifically sound.”

“Deliberately scientific. Intentionally over our heads. Meant to distract.”

“You’re delusional. How do you know what I was feeling, thinking? Are you a mind reader?”

“Lip reader.”

“What?”

“Cockpits can be noisy. I learned to read a copilot’s lips. Nine, four, three, two.” He placed his hands on his hips, thrust his face to within inches of hers, and repeated the numbers in a taunting whisper. “Nine, four, three, two.”

She braced her hands on the ledge of the sink behind her in order to keep her balance. “The lock.”

“The lock. I read your lips as you rolled each number into place. Missed the last one. What is it?”

He’d read her lips? That was almost as unsettling as him being only one digit short of knowing the combination to the padlock. His eyes were like magnets now, holding her in thrall.

But she looked away, turned her head aside, and tried to regain her equilibrium. “Would you give me some space, please?”

He eased away from her and took a half step back.

She took a few short breaths. “How did you bump your head?”

“What?”

“You’ve got a bump at your hairline.” She reached up to touch it, but he yanked his head back.