“Yeah.” Adeline sipped the cold milk. Tasted like old times. “Did I ever have a near-drowning experience?” She picked off another bite of cookie. “You know, in the tub or in a pool. Maybe a lake.” She popped the sweet chunk into her mouth.

  Her mother’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Not that I recall.” She shook her head. “I’m certain you didn’t. I would surely have remembered.” She swiped the cookie crumbs from the counter into her hand and marched them to the trash as if another moment scattered on the counter would have created a tragedy of some sort.

  Her mom had always been a little OCD about cleaning.

  “Why have I always been afraid of the water? Something had to have happened. Maybe I was with a friend’s family.”

  “Oh, Adeline.” Her mother waved her hands back and forth as if to dismiss the entire notion. “You know the reason for that.” She pressed a palm to her chest. “I was always scared of the water. Never learned to swim and I guess my irrational fears rubbed off on you.”

  True. She placed the half-eaten cookie back on the plate. “Is there any chance at all that we knew Cherry Prescott’s or Penny Arnold’s family at some point? You know, when I was a little kid?” Neither family had lived in Pascagoula, but there were other possibilities. Church gatherings, Girl Scouts, school activities. It wasn’t impossible.

  Her mother blinked. Three times. Rapidly. Her face blanked. “Why would you ask that?”

  Why would she ask why? Adeline swallowed back the hesitation. “We all three are afraid in one way or another of water. We’re all three blond with blue eyes and have a number of other facial similarities.” The implications of what she was saying loomed inside her head, made a breath next to impossible. “And some psycho is targeting us. Calling us ‘princesses.’ There is either a connection in our pasts that put us on his radar or this freak has made one hell of a big mistake.”

  That trapped-in-the-headlights expression claimed her mother’s face. “I’ve...I’ve heard you say that those awful serial killers oftentimes pick women who look alike. Considering that, are these similarities really so unusual?”

  Again, this was true. Adeline’s heart pounded harder, making her chest ache, with every statement her mother made. She was hiding something. There was no way on earth to deny that glaring fact. “You’re right,” Adeline allowed. “The sticking point is the whole water thing. That’s not exactly something I’ve broadcast over the years, and from what I’ve learned so far neither did the other two women involved in this case.”

  “I...I don’t know what you want me to say, Addy.” Her mother swiped at the counter again when there were no crumbs to swipe. She glanced around the kitchen as if looking for something else to do then grabbed the dish-towel from the sink and rubbed her hands.

  That bad, bad feeling that had taken root was wrapping round and round Adeline’s throat and squeezing. For about five seconds, Adeline was at a loss for words. “I just want you to answer the question. Did we or did we not know the families of these victims at some point in the past?”

  “Your question is preposterous. Why would you ask me such a thing?” Irene huffed. “I think you...you...” The color of frustration and no small amount of anger climbed her cheeks as she looked Adeline straight in the eyes. “I think it’s not safe for you to be here. You should go back to Huntsville and let Wyatt do his job. Not only are you a target of this insane person, but you’re thinking up all these ridiculous ideas.”

  Whoa. “You’re overreacting to a simple question, Mother.” Adeline backed off. This wasn’t going to evolve into a battle. She hadn’t come here for that. “But if discussing the case upsets you that much, we won’t talk about it.” Jesus Christ. It was a simple question.

  “Good.” Her mother picked up the plate Adeline had used and started toward the sink.

  This conversation had officially gone from odd to totally bizarre. Did Adeline stay or go or apologize or what?

  The plate crashed to the floor. Adeline jerked at the sound. Broken china and cookie remains lay scattered over the linoleum. Her mother stood, a step from the sink, her back ramrod straight, and turned to Adeline. That she didn’t say something or rush to clean up the mess triggered an alarm that Adeline didn’t want to acknowledge.

  She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but couldn’t come up with the right words, so she covered the two steps that separated them and crouched down to pick up the mess on the floor.

  Her mother swayed.

  “Mom, you okay?”

  Adeline shot to her feet. Barely caught her mother as she crumpled.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother’s eyes were wide with pain and fear. She tried to speak...couldn’t. The fingers of one hand clutched at her chest.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Adeline lowered her mother to the floor. “It’s okay. I’m calling for help.” Adeline reached for her cell.

  Pounding on the front door echoed through the house. She ignored it. Keeping one eye on her mother, she gave the 911 operator the necessary information.

  “Addy!”

  Wyatt. He’d obviously opened the front door and stuck his head inside.

  “Kitchen!” she screamed back.

  Irene’s eyes rolled back and her body tensed.

  Adeline dropped the phone. Checked her mother’s carotid pulse. Where the hell was her pulse?

  Wyatt stamped into the room. “Why in the Sam Hill was the door unlocked?”

  Adeline looked up at him, fear crushing her windpipe. “Help me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Singing River Hospital, 6:37 p.m.

  Adeline sat in the molded plastic chair in the deserted waiting room. The smell of pain and sickness had invaded her lungs. She felt cold. The stupid Christmas tree in the corner mocked her.

  It was the day after Christmas and she’d done this to her mother. She was a bad daughter. A really bad daughter.

  All these years she’d thought she had escaped the evil Cooper genes, but she’d been wrong.

  Heart attack. Her mother had suffered a heart attack. Not a massive episode, the doctor had assured during the brief update Adeline had gotten half an hour ago, but enough to admit her mother for additional testing and further observation. Just in case.

  As soon as Irene was settled Adeline could see her. They’d run her out of the ER exam room because her presence seemed to distress the patient.

  Bad, bad, bad. She was a bad daughter.

  “This isn’t your fault.” Wyatt sat down next to her and shoved a cup of coffee her way.

  “You weren’t there.”

  “I didn’t have to be.” He gave up and set the coffee on a table next to a stack of out-of-date magazines. “You love your mother. Your mother loves you. Nothing you said or asked prompted this event. You have to know that.”

  Adeline felt numb, yet the sensation of devastation hovered around the edges of her consciousness. It was there. Coming, like a hurricane brewing offshore.

  Her mother could’ve died. Still could. The doctor had admitted after relentless interrogation that part of the reason for the observation was because many times a second heart attack followed the first. It reminded Adeline of the aftershocks of an earthquake.

  Only this wasn’t someplace she’d never been or people she didn’t know, this was her mother.

  This was her fault.

  “God.” She braced her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands. All of this was so damned wrong. Off somehow, and it just kept getting more and more twisted.

  “Addy.” Wyatt’s big, warm hand settled on her back. “The doc said she’s going to be fine. You have to believe that. And stop blaming yourself.”

  Adeline sat up, turned her face to his. “She’s hiding something from me.” She looked away, didn’t want him to see the sting of tears in her eyes. She swallowed back the ones crowded in her throat. “There’s something about the past and this case that she’s not telling me. I saw it in her eyes...before.” She blinked back the emotion that threatened to spill past her lashes. “Whatever it is...it’s big.”

  Bigger than maybe Adeline wanted to know.

  This case—coming back here—had ripped apart the fiber of her existence. And the tear just kept getting wider and more jagged.

  “Ms. Cooper?”

  Adeline’s attention swung to the double doors next to the admissions desk. Dr. Hubbard, the physician in charge of her mother’s care, was coming toward Adeline.

  She shot to her feet and rushed to meet him.

  “You can see your mother now.” He smiled, the expression more comforting than he could possibly comprehend. “She’s been moved to the cardiac unit on the fourth floor. You may have a few moments with her and then she needs to rest. She’s sedated so she may fall asleep on you.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  She turned to Wyatt, relief so profound rushing through her body that her knees threatened to buckle. “She’s gonna be okay.”

  He hugged her close and she wanted to cry all over again. Her heart ached, needed to feel this. To feel him.

  Adeline pulled away. Exiled the powerful emotions. She needed to get a hold of herself. And to get to the fourth floor.

  The journey from the ER waiting room to the main lobby and the bank of elevators beyond seemed to take forever. The delay for the elevator car to arrive was even worse. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Adeline felt ready to have a heart attack of her own. Her heart thumped so hard she could scarcely breathe. Her head spun with the lack of oxygen. And all the crazy fragments of information that didn’t fit together and yet went hand in hand.

  Her mother’s cubicle stood directly across from the nurse’s station. There was no door, just a glass partition allowing visual access to the patient from the nurse’s station. As much as it scared Adeline to see her mother in a place like this, she was glad for the close monitoring.

  The nurse made Wyatt wait in the corridor since only one visitor at a time was allowed. He squeezed Adeline’s hand, offering that support she needed so badly.

  When Adeline approached the bed, Irene’s eyes opened. “Addy.”

  Between the ultra-sterile environment, the collage of machines playing their out-of-sync symphony, and her mother’s pale face, Adeline couldn’t stop the tears. “You about scared me to death, lady.” Her mother reached for her hand. Adeline’s heart reacted to the too-cool feel of her skin. “I am so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to upset you. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

  “This is not your fault.”

  Her voice sounded so weak. Adeline’s gut clenched with fear and dread and worry, all at the same time. “I’m sorry anyway.”

  Irene peered down at their clasped hands. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should have told you a long time ago.” She licked her parched lips.

  As much as Adeline wanted to ask what her mother meant, she reached for the ice chips on the table next to the bed instead. “Here.” She placed a few in her mother’s mouth. When Adeline offered more, her mother shook her head.

  “I need you to listen to me.”

  “All right.” Adeline leaned closer to ensure she didn’t miss a word. Her mother’s voice sounded weak and fragile. Nothing like the strong woman Adeline knew so well. It tore at her heart.

  “There were three of you.”

  The statement ignited a new kind of fear deep in Adeline’s chest. This moment—what she was about to hear, she instinctively understood—would change everything. “We don’t have to talk about this, Mom. You should rest. I want you well.” She defied the tears that crammed into her eyes once more. “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

  “Three beautiful little girls.” Irene’s voice wobbled. “Your father wanted to take all three of you but there were others who desperately wanted children. I don’t know who made the decisions on who went where. All I know is that your father and I got you. You were so beautiful. Only six months old. And perfect.”

  Adeline pinched her lips to prevent the multitude of questions to which she wanted to demand answers. She couldn’t press her mother. Just let her talk.

  “I believe Cherry Prescott and Penny Arnold are the other two—your sisters.”

  What little oxygen Adeline had been able to draw into her lungs bolted. This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be adopted. All the times she had wondered about why she didn’t look a lot like her parents or cousins—the dreams about the water—the numerous pictures of her as a baby but none of her parents holding her until she was several months old. Those niggling facts that had haunted the rim of her existence her whole life came crashing down around her now.

  “Ms. Prescott came to see me.”

  “What?” Adeline regretted how incredulous she sounded. She had to focus. Pay attention to what her mother was saying and work on figuring out the rest later. “When?”

  Her mother’s lips trembled. “The same day she went missing. She wanted to see you. Wanted to know where you lived. How to get in touch with you. Somehow she’d learned that she was adopted and had siblings. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. That she had made a mistake.” Tears streamed down her face. A sob hiccupped from her throat. “I lied to her.”

  Adeline banished the questions, the shock...the ache. “It’s okay,” she placated. “You did what you thought was right. Please don’t cry. You don’t need to get upset like this. We won’t talk about this anymore right now.” As much as Adeline wanted the truth she couldn’t risk her mother’s health. But, dear God—Prescott had come to her mother demanding the truth? At least now they had some insight as to what she had been doing in the Pascagoula area.

  And Adeline was adopted. Her whole past was founded on secrets and…lies.

  “I have to tell you the rest,” Irene insisted. “I can hardly keep my eyes open, but you have to know. It may make the difference in how this turns out.”

  Adeline pushed away all thought but one—her mother’s well-being. She glanced at the monitors. Her mother’s blood pressure and heart rate had climbed since she’d come into the room. “Mom, you don’t need to push yourself.”

  “Just listen to me,” she urged. “The adoptions were sealed by the church.” Irene exhaled a shuddering breath. “Somehow the Prescott woman learned the truth. Apparently, someone else did as well, but I don’t know why they would do anything so awful as this.”

  More tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Adeline gently swiped them away. Her fingers trembled in spite of her best efforts.

  Her mother’s gaze searched Adeline’s, then grew distant as if she were looking back, remembering. “They’re dead. I don’t know why she had to do this now. After all these years. But she just kept saying that she had to know.”

  Adeline tensed. Was she talking about Prescott and Arnold? How could she know this? “Who’s dead, Mother?”

  “Your biological parents.” Irene blinked, looked into Adeline’s eyes once more. “I didn’t want to tell you any of this.” More of those tears spilled. “I didn’t want you to know that you weren’t my little girl.”

  “Mom,” Adeline urged, “that’s completely—”

  Irene put her fingers to her daughter’s lips, hushing her protests. “I realized I couldn’t keep the truth from you any longer. Not with the situation getting worse and worse. It’s been eating at me.” Pain etched deep lines in Irene’s face. “Was that woman taken because I didn’t help her?”

  Stunned all over again, Adeline dug way down deep and summoned her voice. If she sounded upset, her mother would only grow more agitated. “I’m certain none of this is your fault. You couldn’t have guessed what some madman was up to.”

  “But if I’d told her the truth would this have happened?” Irene’s head rocked slowly, wearily, from side to side against the pillow. “I should have told you everything a long time ago. I was a coward.”

  Adeline made a decision. There was no putting off certain aspects of this disturbing conversation. Not if her mother had information that could help the investigation. “You can help me now.” She had to be careful. The last thing she wanted to do was overtax her mother. The pivotal piece of this puzzle lay in the past—her past. The one she’d had before her parents had adopted her. “You don’t have to explain or to go into any detail,” Adeline said. “We’ll do that later, when you’re better. Based on what you’ve told me, Prescott was digging into her past—our past. If that’s the case, all I need is a starting point. A name or place.”

  “Father Floyd Grayson.” Irene’s lips quivered. “The last I heard he had retired to an assisted living facility in Waveland. Tell him you need to know about the Solomon family, Quentin Solomon, and...and the tragedy.”

  Her mom’s eyes drifted shut.

  “Mom.”

  Irene’s eyes blinked open once more.

  Adeline squeezed her mother’s hand and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then smiled with all the love bursting in her heart. “I will always be your little girl.”

  Irene nodded, the slightest dip of her chin, then closed her eyes once more.

  Confusion rammed Adeline hard. Wait. She should have asked if her mother had told anyone else about this. Whoever had taken Prescott and Arnold had to be aware of their true past. “Mom,” she whispered close to her mother’s ear, “who else knows about the adoption?”

  Surely her uncle Cyrus knew. Bastard. Was he involved in this?

  “Ms. Cooper?”

  Adeline started. Took a breath and straightened away from the bed as the nurse entered the cubicle. “Is she okay?”

  The nurse nodded. “It’s the sedative, ma’am. She needs to rest. I don’t think she’ll be coming around again for a while.”

  Adeline nodded. “Thank you.”

  She stood for a long time afterward, watching her mother sleep. Watching her breathe. She considered the glass wall that separated her mother’s space from those in charge of her care. Adeline had no reason to doubt the competence of any of them. Yet, she was scared to death.