Page 73 of Grissom
“The man Marcia Valentino killed was Airman First Class Benjamin McGill. He was from Minot, North Dakota.”
“If there was a child…” Grissom wasn’t sure how to ask.
“You want me to crosscheck physician and hospital records to locate that baby? Is that what you’re asking?” Her tone pitched higher. “Why? Are you going to want it when I find it or are you just curious? Because I’m not—”
“I want to know what happened to him or her,” Grissom clarified. “Pam liked getting her way, and this may be a wild goose chase, but if it’s not…” He turned back to Tuesday, knowing she wouldn’t let this motherless child waste away in the foster system. “Yes, Mom, I want that child. I want him or her to be as safe and happy as my boys are. Can you do that for me or not?”
Nothing but the clatter of Mother’s nails on her keyboards answered back. Grissom held his breath. She was an all-out genius. It was just possible that—
“Airman McGill was Native American, as in full-blooded Cherokee,” she bit out. “Did you know that?”
“Is that supposed to matter? I don’t care if he was purple, black, or polka-dotted. Do you know if—?”
“Don’t get smart with me. I’m just asking. Some people care, that’s all.”
“Well, I don’t. I just want the child Pam threw away. If there is one.” Grissom couldn’t see her allowing a pregnancy to go to full term when there wasn’t anything in it for her. There were so many ways she could’ve ended that baby—if there’d been one to begin with. If not, at least he’d tried. But if there was a baby, if Mother could track it down, and if that little one needed a family…
Grissom glanced over his shoulder at Tuesday. Wouldn’t she be surprised when she woke up tomorrow and discovered they were going to Florida to adopt that child?
“Got it,” Mother breathed. “An infant girl… a tiny, tiny baby girl… Ahem.” Mother paused to cough, but all of a sudden, she sounded—fragile? “Yes,” she continued, “someone left a babygirl in the Safe Haven drop box at a Gainesville fire station around the same time Marcia Valentino disappeared. I’m not calling that witch Pam McCoy, sorry. Not calling her your wife anymore, either.”
“Okay, yes, that sounds about right,” Grissom breathed, relieved for the first time since he’d heard about Pam murdering that poor airman. “That’s where Pam, I mean Marcia Valentino, was from. Not sure how we’d know for sure that’s Airman McGill’s little girl, but—”
“DNA,” Mother snapped, her clever fingers going a mile a minute. “I’ve got yours. Now, I’ve got Pam’s, err, Valentino’s. Howie got that when he booked her. Just need Airman McGill’s and…” Tap, tap. Clatter, clatter. A few more taps then, “That little girl is definitely Airman McGill’s, and… look at this.”
Grissom’s phone dinged an incoming message. Lifting his cell away from his ear, he looked at the photo of a beautiful, bronze-skinned little girl, around eight years old, with bright brown eyes and shiny, long black hair that fell over her shoulders. She was beautiful, dressed like she was, in a fluffy pink dress and holding a gray stuffed bunny by one ear. Another photo hit his incoming box. The smiling airman in that shot was the spitting image of the child who would’ve, and should’ve, been his daughter. His little girl.
Grissom’s heart crawled up his throat at what that poor airman had lost, all because of Pam’s evil trickery. “Where is she, Mom? Is she safe?”God, I hope so.
“She is, Grissom,” Mother whispered, her voice oddly strained. “Her name is now Rosario Medina. Hector and Adele Medina adopted Rosario within months of her being left in that Safe Haven box. Hector was the fireman who found her. He and his wife are Cuban. They tried for years to get pregnant and now… and now…”
Was Mother crying? “Are you okay?” Grissom asked gently, wiping his own eyes at the miracle unfolding over his phone.
“Allergies,” Mother choked. “I’ve got allergies and it’s hay fever time of year and… and it’s none of your business.”
Grissom let it go. For now. He was as choked up as she was. “The important thing is that Rosario’s safe, Mom. Thanks for finding her for me.”
A definite sniff came over the connection. “Would you have adopted her, Grissom? I mean, really? Would you have wanted a baby like her, after everything your wife’s done to you?”
“Yes,” he answered, with a clean heart and full intent. “The one thing I know for certain is that kids aren’t responsible for the sins of their parents, and babies deserve every chance we can give them.”
“I know,” Mother whispered. “I… I just… I just wish...”
“I don’t know what me and my boys would do without you, Mom,” Grissom said when she stalled. “Thanks for helping me find Rosario. I’m sad I’ll never have that little girl in my life, but she’s happy and that’s all that counts.”
“She is. Happy, I mean.” Mother’s voice sounded so small. “Thanks for letting me find her for you. I… I needed that.” The connection went dead, and it was okay. Grissom knew a lot about devils, and the devil riding Mother must be a son of a bitch.
He turned to find Tuesday watching him from where she lay. “Where are we?”
“Inourroom.” Grissom made sure to use that explicit, possessive pronoun.
“Ourroom?” she murmured, lifting to her elbows. “Umm, where are the boys?”
“You meanour boys?” he asked, emphasizing the direction he needed her to go with him.
A lazy smile lit her face. “I like that word.”
“Good, because from now on, this isour room,and those two little guys passed out on their bunk beds areour boys.” Grissom sat his butt alongside Tuesday, then leaned over and rested his forearm beside her shoulder to hold his weight. Sex was the last thing she needed, but a kiss or two wouldn’t hurt. “I want to make love with you, but tonight’s too soon. We’ll wait until—”
