Paula Graves - Chickasaw County Captive

“We just want to talk to him,” Kristen added. “Meanwhile, if you think of anything you’ve seen or heard in the last couple of weeks, anything that seemed out of the ordinary, please give Detective Foley or me a call at the number on that card.”

She followed Foley out of the school office, sidestepping a boisterous kindergartner who’d broken free from the line of five-year-olds marching down the hall toward the playground. Foley reached out and snagged the little boy’s shirt, tugging him gently to a halt.

“Slow down, cowboy,” Foley chided mildly.

The boy turned and flashed a sheepish, gap-toothed grin at Foley before his teacher took him by the hand and led him back into line.

Foley was still smiling when they reached the car. “Gina’s pregnant again,” he said.

Kristen stopped short, looking at him over the roof of the Impala. “Congratulations.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks. It was a surprise. We’d always figured we’d stop at two.”

Kristen wasn’t sure what to say. Foley’s mood was usually easy to gauge, but his out-of-the-blue announcement had her feeling off balance.

Not that she didn’t have a million reasons of her own to feel off balance, starting with her unfinished business with Sam Cooper.

He and Maddy had both been up and dressed by the time Kristen finished showering and dressing that morning. Sam’s mother was there, as well, having brought breakfast muffins for everyone. She’d stayed until Kristen had to leave to meet Foley at the preschool, her happy, motherly presence providing a welcome buffer between Kristen and Sam. Sam had looked a bit frustrated, but Kristen couldn’t feel anything but relief.

She wasn’t ready to talk to Sam about what had happened between them the night before. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“Is something wrong?” Foley asked when she didn’t make a move to open the car door.

She meant to shake her head and get in the car, hoping the subject would drop. So she was surprised to hear herself blurt, “How did you know you were good parent material?”

Foley stared at her, puzzlement written on every inch of his face. “What?”

Ignoring the nagging voice at the back of her mind ordering her to shut up and get in the car, she answered, “When you and Gina decided to have your first child, how did you know you’d be any good at it?”

Foley’s bark of laughter caught her by surprise. “We were young and stupid. That kind of question never occurred to us.” He nodded toward the car. “Get in and I’ll tell you all about my first year as a father. We’ll call it ‘Nightmare on Main Street.’”

Kristen slid into the passenger seat and buckled in, kicking herself for bringing up the subject in the first place. She didn’t mind hearing Foley’s tales from the dark side of fatherhood, but she knew that her out-of-character curiosity was bound to stick in her partner’s mind, long after he’d exhausted his store of anecdotes.

The last thing she needed was a fellow detective trying to ferret out the motives of her sudden interest in parenthood.

Her cell phone rang in the middle of a faintly horrifying story of Foley’s first experience with projectile vomiting. She grabbed the phone quickly, grateful for the interruption-until she saw Sam Cooper’s name on the display window.

She stared at the ringing phone, her heart in her throat.

Foley shot her an odd look. “You gonna answer that?”

She braced herself with a deep breath and answered. “Tandy.”

“It’s Sam. Anything on the school photographer?”

His voice was businesslike. Annoyingly normal. Comparing his calm tone to the nervous flutter in her stomach, Kristen grimaced. “We have a name. Darryl Morris.”

“Darryl Morris?” The calm tone in Sam’s voice disappeared. “I know Darryl Morris. And now that I think of it, he just might think he has a damned good reason to hurt me.”

Excitement pushed aside any lingering unease Kristen felt. “Detective Foley’s with me. I’m putting you on speaker.” She pushed the button. “How do you know Darryl Morris?”

“About eight months ago, his teenage son was killed in a traffic accident. The other driver had been distracted by his kids, hadn’t seen the light change to red, and he slammed into Charlie Morris’s motorcycle. The kid didn’t have a chance.”

“What does that have to do with you?” Foley asked.

“It was one of my first cases when I joined the Jefferson County D.A.’s office. I was assigned to assess the case and see if any criminal charges should be filed.”

“And you didn’t file any charges,” Kristen guessed, beginning to understand.

“Not criminal charges,” Sam answered. “We worked out a plea deal-the other driver pleaded down to reckless endangerment, was put on probation and did several hours of community service as well as taking a remedial driving course.”

Kristen thought that sounded fair, given the circumstances. But she wasn’t the father of a dead kid. “Morris didn’t think it was enough, right?”

“His only kid was dead. I don’t think anything would have been enough.” There was a hint of bleak understanding in Sam’s voice, and Kristen knew he was thinking about Maddy.

“Did Darryl Morris ever threaten you? Send you any angry letters?” Foley asked.

“He was definitely upset when we told him about the plea deal. There might have been an angry letter or two-I’ll have to check my files. But I don’t remember ever feeling as if he were any kind of real threat to me.”

“Can you meet us at your office?” Kristen asked. “I’d like to take a look at any letters Morris might have sent.”

“I’ll have to bring Maddy. I don’t feel like letting her out of my sight today.”

She glanced at Foley. “That’s okay-Foley can use the extra babysitting practice.”

Foley made a face at her. “I’d better track down Morris, make sure he’s not making a Mexico trip or something.”

“I could do that,” Kristen said quickly.

“Actually, Detective Tandy, I need to see you about another matter anyway,” Sam interjected.

Kristen ignored Foley’s curious look, heat rising up her neck. “I can be in Birmingham in about an hour,” she said, knowing that further protest would only pique her partner’s interest more.

“See you then.” Sam rang off.

“Are you blushing?” Foley asked.

She frowned at him. “What?”

He looked ready to tease her further but stopped himself. “I’ll drop you back at the station to pick up your car.”

She spent most of the drive to Birmingham dreading her arrival, worrying over the “other matter” Sam wanted to talk to her about. Was he going to want to do an extensive postmortem of her behavior the night before? She already knew she’d thrown professionalism out the window. And his willing participation didn’t change the fact that she was the one with the ethical constraints, not him. She was the cop. She was the one who should have behaved better.

The worst part was, she wasn’t sure she regretted it enough. The memory kept creeping up on her when she least expected it, whether at a preshift meeting with Carl and Foley or listening to a preschool principal give her a new lead on the case. Even now, with the air conditioner running full blast and the police radio squawking now and then, she felt Sam Cooper’s warm lips moving with slow, devastating skill over hers as surely as if it had just happened.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to drag her focus back to the case. She reached for the phone clipped to her waistband, thinking Foley might have had time to locate Darryl Morris by now. But before she even had a chance to flip it open, the phone rang, making her strained nerves jangle.