“Kind of odd that he happened to be in the same town as you,” Andy said.

“Not really,” Ramsey said. “As he got older, he would have known if Melina had been found, it would have been by Nashville police, and she’d have landed in Davidson County’s social services.”

She shifted her gaze, meeting his gaze head on. She felt light headed.

He knew as well as she did why Sonny, a.k.a. Dean Guthrie, was here.

“He’s here because you’re here,” Ramsey said.

For more years than she could remember, she had wanted to peel back the veil on her past and know where she came from. But each new layer of history brought with it a new set of problems.

Melina ended the call, doing her best to not show her emotions.

“You okay?” Ramsey asked.

“Sure. Just fine.”

“Your nonreaction is more worrisome than any rant.”

“This is a lot to take in.”

“Have you spoken to your parents about Bonnie?” he asked.

“I’ve touched on the high spots but not gone into much detail. I don’t want to upend their world.”

“Something tells me they can handle it,” Ramsey said.

“Probably. I just need to process this as much as I can before I get bombarded with questions from them. They mean well, but I can’t even answer my own questions, let alone theirs.”

“Adoptees have a tendency to hide their true emotions from both their birth and adoptive parents. They become a kind of peacemaker who does their best to not upset the applecart.”

“I’ve read all the psychology books,” she said. “Adoptees have lost their birth parents through no fault of their own and consequently fear losing their adoptive parents. They test, prod, probe, all the while expecting and also fearing rejection. And if we do reunite with the birth family, we spend the rest of our lives walking on eggshells so that we don’t chase them away.” She shifted in her seat as if his scrutiny was too much to bear.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Too damn much. But my observations about adoption and adoptees are not relevant right now. What matters is Elena and finding Sonny.”

“The more I consider Jennifer Brown’s crime scene, the more I’m convinced Sonny is suffering with serious abandonment and anger issues,” Ramsey said.

Melina pictured a young boy who watched Bonnie driving off, knowing his sister was on the side of a deserted road. He must have been traumatized. The fear he had felt as a boy grew into rage as he became a man. “He’s killing Bonnie over and over.”

“I think that’s exactly what he’s doing.” Ramsey put the car in drive and pulled out onto the main road. For several minutes neither spoke as they wove their way back to Nashville.

All the unknown pieces of her past were falling into place and creating a very sad and dark image. She tipped her head back against the headrest. “New birthday, a birth mother, and now a half brother who is likely a serial killer. So, how’s your family doing?”

He shook his head. “You can’t pick your family.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Thursday, August 27, 6:00 p.m.

Bonnie was good at figuring things out. Her first stop was the hospital. She knew walking in and asking about the kid was not going to get her anywhere. So she made a quick stop at a uniform store located across from the hospital and bought a pair of scrubs. She pulled around the side of the building and changed into the scrubs and then drove to the hospital.

The success of a con depended on confidence. If you believed your story, the chances of someone else buying into it were good.

She rode the elevator to the pediatric wing. There were several nurses at the central station. They might give up information on the kid, but chances were slim. All the new federal regs made everyone paranoid.

The rattle of the wheels drew Bonnie’s attention to an attendant pushing a food cart. Older, with stooped shoulders, he was perfect. She snatched a clipboard from a side cart.

As he loaded a tray with an untouched yogurt and banana beside a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, she came up to him, smiling. “Such a waste,” she said. “All that food.”

“I hear ya,” he said. “Happens all the time.”

“Could feed an army on the unopened food alone.”

“I know.”

She glanced at her clipboard. “I’m here to do a follow-up with Elena Sanchez.”

“She’s checked out,” he said. “Social services came. A foster mom, I think.”

“Darn. I was hoping to do a quick mental health analysis. County has implemented a new policy. I’ll contact the agent in charge of the case.” Again, she glanced at the clipboard as if trying to remember. “Melina Shepard.”

“She should know. Her mother took the girl.”

Bonnie pretended to write on the clipboard. “Right. The Shepards are good people.” She thought back to the article she had read about Melina. There were family details, but she could not quite remember. “Thanks, doll,” she said.

At the information desk, Bonnie asked if there was a computer she could use and was directed to a small room reserved for family members of patients. She now had everything she needed.

She searched Melina’s name. When she had been in California, all she had had was Melina’s first name. But how many Melinas could there be in Music City? Turns out, a few dozen. She had searched each one and come up empty. Then she’d come across an article on Agent Melina Shepard with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. The instant Bonnie saw the picture of the young agent featured in a news article, she knew she had found her girl.

Now, as she searched Melina Shepard, she skipped all the blah-blah information about her investigative successes and looked for information on Melina’s family.

Bonnie found it in an article that mentioned Melina’s father was a former detective with Nashville police. Mother was a former schoolteacher. She typed Detective Shepard Nashville Police. A few more clicks and there, on the screen, was Hank and Molly’s address.

Bonnie scribbled it down and then mapped the directions on the phone she had stolen from Ralph. Outside, she hurried around the building, dumped the clipboard in a trash can, and, in the car, changed out of the scrubs into her clothes.

The drive took twenty minutes, and as she got closer to the residential neighborhood, she followed the street signs until she spotted the one-story brick rancher. She drove slowly by the house and down to the end of the street.

The neat lawns with their neat flower beds and two-car garages irritated Bonnie. A few yards had bikes propped against the side of the house, and others had kiddie pools in the backyards.

It all screamed family.

Shit, Bonnie, Melina, and Sonny would all still likely be a family if Melina had just been good that day. Hell, she had tried to reason with the kid that night in the car. She had given her crackers and cookies and then bribed her with five dollars if she would just shut the hell up. But Melina had wanted out of the car. Bonnie had not enjoyed the three days of nonstop driving, either, but she had been willing to suck it up to get across the country. Sonny had managed fine with the long drive. But Melina kept melting down, demanding to be let out. Finally, Bonnie had granted the little brat her wish.

Bonnie circled around the block and looked toward the Shepards’ house. She spotted a woman passing in front of the window, and just behind her was Elena.

Bonnie kept driving. She had confirmed Elena’s location, and she knew the address and basic setup of the Shepards’ house. She dialed Sonny’s number. He picked up on the third ring.

“What the hell do you want?” Sonny demanded.

“I haven’t told the cops anything because I don’t want them to lock you up,” she said. “I really care about you, Sonny.”

Silence. “You haven’t been quiet for me. You don’t want to be nailed as an accessory after the fact.”

“I kept quiet for you, not me, baby.”

“You always put yourself first, Bonnie.” He sounded sure of himself. “You’re out of jail. And I know you well enough to know you want to stay out. I got you out. We’re done.”

She stopped at a stoplight. Up ahead were directional signs to the interstate that could take her far away from all this. “I want to make things right between us.”

“There’s no making things right.”

“I saw the way you looked at Elena. She looks so much like Melina, doesn’t she? It’s like having your baby sister back.”

He didn’t speak, but she could hear his breath. He was listening.

“What if you, Elena, and me left town together? What if we kept going east like we’d planned all those years ago? Or what if we went to Mexico?”

“My life is just fine without you.”

“Is it, baby? You’ve developed a nasty little habit, and I bet in your off time you watch Melina, too. Always looking out for your sister.”

He didn’t respond.

She grinned. “You’re in Melina’s life, aren’t you? Do you watch her through the window of her town house? Watch her feed that little cat?”