7
Bowen called again before Cooper reached the highway. He activated the hands-free device.
“Don’t bother coming to the office. The situation requires your immediate response. I’ll text KC the client’s address. Here’s the deal. Edith Appleby’s son has been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. He found out today that no one in the immediate family is a bone marrow match. Edith wants us to locate her estranged daughter, Mary Dawson, to see if she’ll consent to be tested. A few more details—ooh, there’s that pain again.” Bowen paused and huffed out a breath. “Edith is sixty-eight years old, has multiple sclerosis, and is under hospice care.”
“We’re on our way.” Cooper shared the details with KC.
She set her phone to provide verbal directions to Edith’s apartment.
During the drive, he answered KC’s rapid-fire questions about IRO and her co-workers. More than once he wished he’d brought his stop sign, but, in the end, gave her full reign. After all, the more she knew, the more she’d fit in.
“Will this type of assignment require intensive online research?”
“Yes. We have a great IT department. In fact, Sadie, Bowen’s wife, is the head of our program. She developed new software to enhance our search engines.”
Straightening in the seat, KC whistled. “Talented. Will she conduct my tech training?”
“No. She works part-time right now. Her assistant, Gabe Sanchez, will. He’s a whiz.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “It’s interesting that both Bowen and Sadie work for IRO. Is that where they met?”
“Sort of.” Their history was no secret. “Sadie was a client. She’d been in the Federal Witness protection program, and when her identity was compromised, Bowen was the agent who protected her.”
“Awww, how sweet.”
“Bowen was also instrumental in finding Sadie’s daughter. The daughter she thought was dead.”
“No kidding. Do tell.”
Cooper followed KC’s instructions and turned on to Kettner Boulevard, their high-rise destination looming to the right. “Before Sadie was admitted to WITSEC, her husband and then four-year-old daughter were killed in a car accident. Or so she thought. Three years later, her brother-in-law saw a child who resembled Hannah, and with IRO’s help, the bad guys were imprisoned, Hannah was returned to Sadie, and she resumed her former identity.”
“Cool.” KC beamed. “That’s what I want to do. Create satisfying outcomes for people.”
“Not all our cases have happy endings.” Cooper entered the packed parking garage and searched for an open spot.
“I’m sure. But at least you try. Right?”
“Certainly.”
“What about the baby?”
“Baby?”
“In the photographs on Bowen’s desk.”
On the top floor, a sedan reversed out of a corner space. Cooper squeezed his heavy-duty pickup into it and set the parking brake. “Sadie and Bowen married several months after Hannah was found. She’s now nine, I think, and their son, Zach, was born, um, six, seven months ago.”
“I can’t wait to meet Sadie.” KC opened her door, but Cooper’s large vehicle was too close to the neighboring car. “I can’t squeeze through this small space.”
“Climb over the console.”
“You’re no help, Coop.”
“Do you want me to back out?”
“No, I’ll manage. Close your eyes.”
Next thing he knew, she prodded him in the back.
“Hold my shoes, please.”
The tan, pointy things had deadly spikes for heels. How could she walk on them?
“Are your eyes closed?”
He nodded and stepped away from his door. She grunted, muttered under her breath, then tapped his arm.
“OK, shoes please.” She slipped them on her feet and walked ahead of him. “That’s the last time I’m wearing this dress. Why’d I think I could pull off a straight skirt anyway? And heels? No more.”
Smiling, Cooper followed her to the elevators. She kept up the stream of negatives until she punched the up button. Meanwhile, he admired how the straight skirt hugged her body and the way her slim hips—
Take a breath, Cooper.
He studied his boots all the way up to the eighth floor, and then made sure he either walked next to, or ahead of her as they navigated the hallway to Edith’s apartment.
A nurse, clad in floral scrubs, opened the door to his knock.
He displayed his credentials. “Agent Cooper Callahan, and KC Briggs, from IRO. We’re here at Mrs. Appleby’s request.”
“Good afternoon. She said they would be sending an agent. I’m Nikki Holt and please call her Edith. This way.”
They followed Nikki to the living room where a silver-haired woman sat in a wheelchair facing the large window.
Nikki settled in the armchair next to Edith and patted her arm. “These are the people Mr. Bodine sent.”
Edith attempted a smile. One side of her face seemed paralyzed. “Thank you.” She dabbed a tissue to her mouth. “Sorry. Words get…hard time talking.” Edith pointed a bony finger to the coffee table.
The nurse handed Cooper a folder. “Edith dictated this information. Please read it and see if you need any more details.”
“Thanks.” Cooper accepted the folder, removed a page and scanned it. Daughter’s name. Date and place of birth. Last known address and phone number. Occupation—math teacher. “When did you last see Mary?” He glanced at Edith, but she nodded toward the nurse.
“Six years ago,” Nikki said. “I’ve worked with Edith a long time, first as a home health provider, and now as a day nurse with hospice. Over the years, she told me a lot about her family.”
“Has anyone checked to see if Mary uses social media?”
“Yes. Vince, Edith’s son, tried all that. If she has a presence, she’s not using her real name. But we know Mary’s moved. All mail addressed to her has been returned.”
Cooper jotted down the facts.
KC crossed her legs. “What happened to cause the rift?”
Edith slowly turned to KC, and a gleam brightened her pale eyes. She pointed to KC’s shin. “Pretty.” The woman pawed at Nikki and then at her own blouse.
The nurse drew the pink fabric back from Edith’s shoulder and exposed a faded rose tattoo.
“Your ink is pretty, too. We have good taste.” KC smiled as Edith bobbed her head.
“Due to Edith’s condition, she made out her will after her husband passed away. Mary felt it favored her brother.” Nikki jutted her chin to the far wall. “Those pieces of art are the culprits.”
Two beautiful landscapes mounted beside each other commanded the entire wall. Since Cooper knew little about art or artists, he had no idea why someone would maintain a family feud over a couple of paintings.
A sad expression crossed Edith’s face. Maybe she regretted the part the pictures had played in the rift.
On her feet, KC examined the works. “These are magnificent. I’d say some of Robert S. Duncanson’s best landscapes.” She studied one more thoroughly then shrugged and sat.
“Pride…j-j-joy.” Edith’s head bobbed again.
Was KC’s general knowledge limitless? Cooper lassoed the conversation back to the daughter. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Mary to help us locate her?”
Edith shook her head. “Find, please.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “For Vince.”
“I have a photo for you.” Nikki left the room and returned seconds later with an eight by ten headshot. “According to Edith, this was taken about ten years ago.”
“You’ve provided the info we need. It shouldn’t take long for our tech folks to find Mary. Do you want us to tell her why you’re looking for her?”
“Yes.” Edith dabbed her eyes and hung her head, shoulders shaking.
Nikki stood and soothed her patient. “Can you show yourselves out, please?”
“Sure. I’ll be in touch as soon as we make contact. Good-bye, Edith.” Cooper slid the photo into the folder and headed toward the door.
“God bless, Edith. I’ll pray for your son, and your reunion with Mary.” KC waved to the client and stepped into the hall.
As they approached the elevators, she yanked on Cooper’s sleeve. “The paintings are fake.”
He halted. “What?”
“Yup.”
KC surprised him at every turn.
The elevator door dinged open, and they entered the crowded space.
“Tell me about the pictures when we’re alone.”
In the the parking garage twenty seconds later, he said, “How do you know?”
“Duncanson’s one of the most famous black landscape artists of the nineteenth century. I wrote a paper on him in my college art appreciation class. Those are good reproductions, but I doubt they’re worth fighting over.”
Cooper punched the remote and stood beside his truck. “I wonder if Edith ever had the originals?”