Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

“This is crazy stuff.” Mallory shook her head. “Who'd have seen all this coming when we decided to take this case on?”

“Hey, you were a cop, too. You know you have to always expect the unexpected.”

“Yeah, but this should be different. This should be… saner.”

Emme laughed. “How do you figure? We're doing the same work.” She thought that over for a moment, then amended it. “Actually, we're doing work that, for whatever reason, the cops were unable to do.”

“Which should make this job harder.” Mallory rubbed her eyes again. “I think I need to stop. I'm getting loopy.”

“Go home to Charlie. Go out to dinner. Go to the movies. Do something fun,” Emme said.

“Don't I wish. Charlie's working a case. I probably won't see him for days.”

“Get one of your girlfriends.”

Mallory shook her head. “Don't have any.”

“Everyone has friends.” It was Emme's turn to frown. “Why don't you have friends?”

“Long story. Too tired to tell it.”

“Okay, then, how ′bout family?”

“Don't have any of them, either.”

“You're kidding.” Emme sat on the arm of one of the chairs in Mallory's office. “No family at all?”

“Nope.” Mallory leaned back, as if in deep thought. “Well, there is someone who claims she's my sister, but she could be lying.”

“How is she your sister?”

“I don't know. I don't know that she really is, and I don't really care.”

“Didn't you ask her why she thinks…”

“I didn't answer her letter. Didn't I just say that I don't really care?”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying you got a letter out of the blue from someone who says she's your sister and you just tossed the letter without answering it?”

“I didn't toss it.” Mallory averted her eyes. “I have it at home. Some place.”

“But you didn't bother to find out if she's really related to you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because if she's your sister, then it means you do have family. You do have someone.”

“I don't need anyone.”

“We all need someone.”

Mallory stood. “I think I'm done for the day. I think I'll take these files and-”

“Mallory, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought my feelings into your situation. It's just that, well, I'd just about die if someone came along and said she was my sister. It's been one of my fantasies for most of my life.”

It was Mallory's turn to stare. For a long moment, she appeared to be debating with herself. “If my mother had another child and she decided to keep that one, well, good for her. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Am I not hearing right? Didn't you just say you had no family? But now you're saying you have a mother and a sister?”

“I haven't seen my mother in thirty-five years. Not since she dumped me on her sister and split.”

Emme was only vaguely aware that her mouth had dropped open.

“Sorry,” Mallory mumbled, and waved a hand as if to dismiss the conversation.

“I'm the one who's sorry,” Emme told her. “I'm the one who's gaping.”

“Yeah, I know. It's not a pretty story.”

“It's not that. It's just that, well, I always thought I was the only one.”

“The only one who what?” Mallory looked puzzled.

“The only one whose mother dumped her and took off.”

“You're kidding. You too?”

“On the day I was born. She left me in a church. The nuns found me when they came in for mass at five in the morning. They named me-” Emme caught herself. She'd almost said, They named me Ann, after St. Ann, for whom the church was named . “I didn't have a name, so they named me.”

“Seriously?”

Emme nodded.

“Were you adopted?” Mallory asked.

Emme shook her head. “No. I spent eighteen years in foster care. I've never known who my parents were, either of them. I don't know if they're dead or alive, why they left me, if I have a brother or sister somewhere… cousins… aunts… uncles…” She shrugged. “I've never had anyone. Until Chloe, that is.”

“We're quite a pair-two girls without any family.”

“But you said your mother left you with her sister. That means you did have someone.”

“It wasn't quite like that. When I say my mother left me there, I mean she made like we were only visiting. Then she left in the middle of the night. She didn't bother to take me with her. My aunt did the right thing by keeping me, but she never for a minute let me forget that it was only through the goodness of her heart that I had a home. I never felt welcome there, I never felt loved.”

“Did you ever ask your mother-”

“No, and I probably never will.”

“Why not?”

“My mother was a hooker in the casinos in Atlantic City. My aunt always said she'd left her burden behind so that she could go back to work. That she couldn't give up the glitz and all that high life she enjoyed to take care of a baby she hadn't wanted.” Mallory's facial muscles drew taut.

“Wow.” Emme shook her head slowly. She simply couldn't think of anything else to say. “Just… wow.”

“So you can see why I don't have any interest in contacting my mother. I've never known who my father is, never even knew his name.”

“Well, we certainly have a lot in common, don't we?” Emme said softly. “But maybe your sister-aren't you at least curious about her?”

“No. Why should I be?”

Emme stared at her. “All my life I've waited for someone to appear and tell me that we share the same blood, the same background. That we have a connection that goes beyond friendship or anything else.”

“Some of us don't need that connection.”

“Don't kid yourself,” Emme heard herself say. “Everyone needs that connection.”

“Not everyone.” Mallory cleared her throat and stuffed the papers she'd been holding into her briefcase. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” Emme backed toward the door, knowing she'd overstepped. “I'll see you then.”

“Look, I'm sorry I was short. I just don't like to talk about… all that.”

“I understand. I should have kept my two cents to myself. I'm just going to say good night to Susanna and head out.”

Emme was already into the hallway when Mallory called to her, “Susanna's not here. She took off again this weekend. Charlie said he saw her headed toward the turnpike on Friday night.”

“Still won't say where she's going?”

Mallory shook her head. “Just one more little mystery for the Mercy Street Foundation to work on. See you Monday.”

Robert stood at the kitchen window overlooking the vast grounds that spread out behind his house. He watched Trula's face light up as Chloe ran across the yard to the pool where Trula floated in an inflatable chair. Cleopatra's barge, he'd dubbed it when Kevin presented it to her on Memorial Day, which happened to be her birthday. It had an airtight pocket that zipped up, big enough to hold one of those paper back novels she was always reading when she thought no one was looking, and a special inflatable cup holder made to hold a can of soda-which Trula wouldn't be caught dead drinking-or a bottle of water, which she had with her at all times.

Chloe danced along the side of the pool, excitedly telling the older woman something. Trula threw back her head and laughed out loud at something the little girl said, and the sheer joy on her face tugged tightly at Robert's heart. Trula had never married, had never had a child of her own-though she probably should have, he reflected. She'd have been one hell of a mom. As it was, she'd spent most of her life living under other people's roofs, first his grandmother's-who'd been Trula's best friend since grade school-then his own, where she'd spent the last several years bullying him and Kevin and loving every minute of it. He'd loved it, too.