Page 35 of The Family Cross

Wallace said, “She the victim?”

“Believe so.”

The rental-shop manager leaned over and tapped a key. The image blew up and was much clearer than I’d expected.

“That girl’s too young to be wearing that much makeup,” Wallace said disapprovingly.

“She was likely killed behind your shop,” I said.

The manager shook her head. “The Eyeball’s cameras should pick her up, but no one’ll be over there until the afternoon. That hellhole opens at four.”

32

IN THE CONFUSION OF bubbling grays and deeper blues, in the foaming waves in which she was buffeted, Regina Hope Cross’s sedated mind rolled, sank, and drifted with the currents and events of her life, each recalled with small typhoons of emotion that made her old heart race.

A wave built in the old woman’s subconscious, crested, and rolled once more, and with it came a rush of churning memories.

She saw herself saying a bittersweet goodbye to the Calvins, who’d treated her kindly and who sent her off with her new favorite book, about a pig named Freddy who was a barnyard detective. Regina could read every word now, and the words triggered things in her, most of all delight that every time she opened a book, she felt like she was setting out on an adventure.

She saw herself when she was back in Starksville, where her mother’s sister Eleanor now lived with them. Aunt Eleanor was a widow who’d come home after twenty years of teaching in Florida. Aunt Eleanor picked up where Sandy Calvin had left off, deepening her niece’s fondness for reading but also teaching her how to master a subject.

In the next wave of memory, Regina was sixteen and—even though Aunt Eleanor thoroughly disapproved—swirling in the throes and heartaches of first love. She saw herself outside a school dance in Starksville, dressed in a white blouse and a modest skirt she’d made herself, peering anxiously into the night, hoping against hope that her boyfriend would appear as he’d promised.

Lying there in her hospital bed as the sedatives began to wear off, the old woman relived the suffering of that particular evening of broken promises.

Then her mind skipped forward.

Regina saw a hotel door opening and almost swooned at the sensation of love erupting through her when a strong hand appeared holding a bouquet of yellow roses, her favorite.

Even in her semiconscious state and despite all the decades that had passed since that night, Nana Mama heard her love’s voice clearly, the soft, growling timbre of it, the easy pace, the words and perfect phrases rolling off his tongue like silky jazz.

“As requested, flowers for my bride, the beautiful Regina. A king always looks out for his queen.”

33

SAMPSON AND I LEFT the crime scene to the technicians and Corey McGovern’s charred body to the medical examiner, and after I registered with the techs for chain of custody of her phone—which I wanted to take with me so I could dig deeper into the girl’s life—we went back to the hospital.

When we arrived, Sampson went to the restroom, and I went to see Nana Mama. I was surprised to find my oldest child, Damon, sitting in the chair next to Nana Mama’s bed, looking at her with tears in his eyes.

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “I thought you were still in Chapel Hill.”

Damon was in a graduate program at the University of North Carolina, a good five-hour drive away.

He got up, came over, and hugged me tight. “Finished my work for the semester yesterday, packed up, and caught a late ride with a friend. I wanted to be here when they wake her up, which the doctor said might be in a few hours.”

“Glad you came,” I said, hugging him back.

“Of course.”

We broke our hug. Damon wiped at his eyes and turned to my grandmother.

“I’ve always thought of her as larger than life, Dad,” he said, his voice thick. “But she looks so small.”

“Like a little bird,” I said, putting my arm around his big, broad shoulders. Damon had at least three inches on my six two these days. “But do not count that old lady out. She’s as tough as anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Tougher,” Damon agreed.

Bree walked in holding a cardboard tray of coffee, and Sampson was right behind her. Rather than trying to squeeze everyone into Nana Mama’s ICU room, the four of us moved down to a little area for families. While Damon brought Sampson up to speed on his life, I told Bree about the case we’d caught that morning.