Man of His Word. Cynthia Reese
across the street?”
Daniel and the lieutenant came out to join them in the reception area, the door locking shut behind them. Daniel smiled warmly at Marissa, but was it a little forced when he turned to Kimberly?
“Marissa, I’ve got orders from Ma to ferry you out to the farm. Ready to roll? Bobbi’s waiting for us in the truck. You remember her, right?”
And with nothing more than a casual wave goodbye to Kimberly, Marissa trooped out the open door that Daniel held for her.
He must have sensed Kimberly’s momentary panic, because he stopped, gave her a nod and said, “She couldn’t be in better hands. Ma raised six of us to be tax-paying productive citizens, and all in one piece. She’s got this. But you can call anytime—me or Ma—if you’re worried.”
Kimberly drew in a calming breath and reminded herself not to be a complete mess when it came to Marissa. “Thanks, I appreciate you taking her out there and, er, giving Lieutenant Clarke here my bona fides. As for Marissa—” Kimberly even managed a joke “—relax, Daniel. That’s the breeze outside you feel, not my rotor wash.”
He chuckled. “I like that. Gotta go grab these veggies if I’m going to con some of my firefighters to help me cook them and actually eat them.”
With that, he was gone, and suddenly the space reverted back to its bare sterility.
She shook herself to get rid of the empty feeling that washed over her. Well, she wasn’t here for Daniel. She was here on a mission. She was here for Marissa. She turned to the detective. “How about that cup of coffee, Lieutenant?” she asked.
ON THE WAY across the street, the first thing the detective did was release Kimberly from using his title and last name. “Ma practically raised me, so any friend of Daniel’s is welcome to dispense with the formalities.”
They walked into the diner, and Tim hustled her back to a booth at the end. The waitress immediately brought two cups and a hot carafe of coffee.
“Morning, Tim... Ma’am, Tim here likes his coffee fully leaded and black as night, that okay with you? Or do you want something else?”
“That’s fine,” Kimberly said. “The sugar’s here on the table. Can I have some cream, though?”
“Coming right up.” The waitress glanced Tim’s way. “Same as usual, even though it’s a tad early for lunch?”
“Yep. Eat when you can, that’s my motto. Oh, my usual is the steak, mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of green beans and extra mushrooms. You want that? Or...what else, Vera? Y’all still got breakfast?”
“Actually...” Kimberly remembered that grim encounter with her checkbook balance this morning. She couldn’t afford two breakfasts in one day. “The coffee will be fine.”
A moment later, Vera brought a pitcher of cream to go with the sugar packets Kimberly had waiting by her cup. Tim had begun quaffing down his coffee, seemingly immune to its scalding temperature.
“Daniel said Marissa had some health issues, and you were trying to get the birth mom’s identity?” Tim asked, setting his mug down. “You know I can’t give you that information. State law and all.”
“Right.” Kimberly didn’t look up from stirring her coffee. She wanted to frame her words exactly right. “But what can you tell me? Anything? Can you...can you tell me if anybody was with her? If she told you about any health problems?”
Tim frowned, a line forming on his freckled forehead. “Let’s see...she was by herself. I was the first officer on the scene. I got there as they were loading her into the ambulance. Man, that was a scene! You know she nearly died, right?”
Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat. “No. How?”
“Some sort of hemorrhage. They didn’t catch it at first, but they couldn’t stop the bleeding. I know I closed out my case after my boss told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender and the birth mother was flown out to Macon—that’s the nearest trauma center.”
Kimberly placed her coffee mug down on the laminate to hide the way her fingers trembled. Finally, a clue about Marissa’s family medical history. Hemorrhaging during childbirth could have been caused by PAI-1 deficiency, or any number of possibilities. “But she survived?”
Tim blinked. He sagged back into the booth. “That’s—that’s something I don’t know. I guess I assumed she did. I mean, I know she made it to Macon. But honestly, I couldn’t tell you. She had no charges pending against her once my superiors told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender.” He grinned and ducked his head. “We, um, were more interested in how the baby was doing, to be truthful. Man, it’s amazing how that baby’s all grown-up now.”
Kimberly fought back conflicting emotions: fear that her assumption all this time that Marissa’s birth mother was still alive and could give them the answers they needed was wrong; the familiar frustration that finding her wasn’t as easy as a quick check of the records; and a surge of appreciation that, even before she’d come into Marissa’s life, her daughter had people looking out for her.
Someone, somewhere, knows something. And if I can’t talk to the birth mom, I could track down her parents or the birth father or even his parents.
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