His beautiful girl had come home, though.

The ambulance left after a critical care nurse who had come along made certain that the equipment Quarry had was adequate and was connected up the right way. After that, Quarry closed the door behind all of them, sat next to Tippi, and took her hand in his.

"You're home, little girl. Daddy brought you home, Tippi."

He held up her hand and pointed with it to various items in the room.

"There's that blue ribbon you got for writing that poem. And over there's your prom dress that your ma made for you. And you looked so beautiful in it, Tippi. Didn't want to let you out of the house with that dress on. No sir. Didn't want to let the boys see you like that. So pretty." He pointed her hand at a photo on a small bookcase.

The picture was of the entire family. Mom, Dad, and the three kids when they were still just children. Daryl wasn't thickset yet, just cute with some baby fat. Suzie was in the middle with her usual defiant look. And then there was Tippi wearing a hat she'd made from a newspaper and a strip of leather, cocked sideways on her head, her golden hair draped around her shoulders. She had this wondrous smile on her face and this mischievous look in her eyes. Nothing much could make Quarry weep anymore. Yet every time he stared at that image of Tippi, with her life all ahead of her, in that funny hat, with those eyes burning to take the world head-on, not knowing, not even suspecting for one moment the despair, the devastating loss that they would all have to endure, the tears rose to the man's eyes like chill bumps on a fall evening.

He gently put her hand back down next to her side and rose to look out the window. His girl was home. And he would rejoice in that while he could. And then he would type his next letter.

He turned back to Tippi, listening to the mechanical rise and fall of the machine that was keeping her lungs pumping, and her heart beating. Then he glanced over at the photo and managed, by closing and then reopening his eyes, to transfer the Tippi in the photo to the one in the bed. In this imaginary world, his daughter was merely resting. And at least in his mind, she would wake up, get up, hug her daddy, and get on with life.

Quarry sank into a chair, closed his eyes again, and stayed in this other world for a little bit longer.

CHAPTER 57

MICHELLE'S PHONE RANG again. They had been waiting two days now to hear back from Sean's Army buddy, but apparently getting records on AWOLs in three states was not an easy matter.

"Who is it?" Sean asked as he leaned back in his desk chair.

"Same number who called me before but I didn't know who it was."

"Might as well answer it. We're just sitting in neutral here anyway."

Michelle shrugged and punched the button. "Hello?"

"Michelle Maxwell?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"I'm Nancy Drummond. You left me a message about your mother. I was a friend of hers."

"But the area code on your phone number isn't Nashville. And the caller ID said Tammy Fitzgerald."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that. I'm using my daughter's cell phone. Fitzgerald is her married name. She lives in Memphis but she's staying with us for a while. It's cheaper to use the cell for long-distance calls. I only have a hard line."

"Oh, right, sure. Why didn't you leave a message?"

"I get flustered with cell phones and voice mail." She added bluntly, "I'm old."

"That's okay. Sometimes I get flustered by them too."

"I was out of town when your mother died. I'm so sorry about her."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Michelle sat down at her desk while Sean doodled on a legal pad. "I was calling you because, well, I guess you heard my mom's death wasn't by natural causes."

"I heard that someone had killed her."

"Who told you that?"

"Donna Rothwell."

"Right. Look, Mrs. Drummond."

"Please call me Nancy."

"Okay, Nancy, I was calling because I wanted to know if you had any idea about who could have wanted to hurt my mom." Michelle expected the woman to issue a resounding "no" in a shocked, breathless tone, but she didn't.

"When I said I was sorry your mother was dead, I meant that Michelle. I liked her. But I can't in all honesty say I was surprised."

Michelle sat straight up in her chair and motioned at Sean, who stopped doodling. Michelle hit a button on her cell, turning it to speakerphone mode.

"You say you're not surprised that someone killed my mother?"

Sean put down his pen and walked over to Michelle's desk and sat on the edge.

"Why would you say that?"

Nancy Drummond's mellifluous voice swooped into the room. "How well did you know your mother?"

"I guess not all that well, actually."

"This is difficult to say, your being her daughter and all."

"Mrs.-Nancy, don't pull any punches. I just want to find who did this."

"I didn't know your father very well. He and your mom didn't go out much together. But Sally enjoyed the social circle we had down here. Very much."

Michelle noted the emphasis on the last words. "How much is very much?"

"I don't like to talk out of school."

"Listen, if my mom was messing around on my dad, that's very important to know, Nancy. Do you know who she was seeing?"

"It was more than one, actually."

Michelle slumped back in her chair. "How many more than one?"

"Three, at least that I knew of. Two moved away, the last about a month ago."

"Where'd they move to?"

"One to Seattle, the other overseas."

"And who was the third?"

"You didn't hear this from me because it's not common knowledge. Your mother was very discreet, I'll give her that. And I don't know if they were, well, you know, intimate. Maybe they were just spending time with each other. Maybe they were just lonely."

"Who?" Michelle said calmly, although she wanted to fire a round into the phone to make the woman answer without any more qualifiers.

"Doug Reagan."

"Doug Reagan? As in Donna Rothwell's steady, Doug Reagan?"

"That's the one. Do you know him?"

"Not really, but I think I will now. How long were they having an affair?"

"Well, I thought they were still having it, up until your mother died, I mean."

"Wait a minute, how do you know all this?"

"Your mother confided in me. We were very good friends."

"So no one else knows that you know?"

"I don't know if she told anyone else. But I've never talked about it to another soul until right now. A confidence is a confidence. But now that she's gone, well, I thought you had a right to know."

To know that my mother was a slut. Thanks.

"Are you there, dear?"

Michelle snapped back. "Yeah, I'm here. Would you be willing to tell the police what you just told me?"

"Do I have to?"

Sean put a hand on Michelle's arm and shook his head.

"Maybe not," Michelle said quickly. "At least not right now." She paused. "Uh, did my dad know about… the things my mom was doing?"

"As I said, I didn't know your father that well, but he always struck me as a man that if he did know he would've done something about it."

"Yeah, he strikes me that way too. Thanks, Nancy. Just sit tight and don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"All right, dear. If you say so."

"I really appreciate you being so candid."

"I have four grown daughters of my own, two of them divorced. I know things happen. Life is never perfect. I want you to know that when your mother told me what she was doing I strongly suggested that she stop seeing these other men. To go back to your father and try and work things out. Like I said, I didn't know him all that well, but I could tell he was a good man. He didn't deserve what was happening."