In the morning Gracie wanted to talk to someone besides God about Buddy Smith. She considered calling Beatrice, but Buddy had the exclusive rights to share what had happened with her. In the end, she settled on a call to her mother.

  Before describing exactly what happened, she mentioned that Buddy Smith had met the Lord. Her mother cut in: “That’s wonderful. Are you going to invite him to church with you?”

  “Maybe,” Gracie said thoughtfully. “Although I think I’d better leave that up to him and not be too pushy.”

  “Why were you eating dinner at the Smith house in the first place?”

  Gracie didn’t want to start a gossip fire about Beatrice and Judge Williams. “Beatrice cooked some venison chili and corn bread, and Buddy invited me to join them. I fixed your peach cobbler.”

  The mention of cobbler turned the conversation in another direction. After the call ended, Gracie realized it would be a challenge to talk to anyone about Buddy. Maybe she should leave it up to him to break the news that something “different” was in his life.

  Arriving at the courthouse, she settled into her morning routine. Shortly before eleven o’clock, her phone buzzed. It was Amanda Byrnes.

  “Are you alone?” the judicial assistant asked in a soft voice.

  “You know where my desk sits, but I can listen.”

  “Listening. That’s what I was doing earlier when Judge Williams came by to see Judge Claremont. They left the door cracked open, and I could hear what they were saying. I usually eavesdrop in case something comes up that I need to know about for my job. They went over some items on the calendar, and then Judge Williams started asking Judge Claremont a bunch of questions about you.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “About your background and family. How you got to be clerk of court. Whether you’ve ever been married.”

  “Married?” Gracie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Judge Williams bring up anything about church or faith?”

  “Yeah, he asked where you went to church. That was one of the few things Judge Claremont didn’t know. I kept waiting to see if they would say anything negative about the clerk’s office, but they didn’t, so I don’t think you have anything to be worried about. But if I hear about a problem, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks for calling and having my back.”

  “We have to do that for one another around here,” Amanda responded.

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  When Buddy woke up, the excitement and euphoria of the previous evening were gone. But as he stretched for a few moments in bed, he knew something else was present—a sense of peace. Normally, he stumbled around as he made the transition to wakefulness, but this morning he was alert and mentally sharp as he brewed a cup of coffee. After a few sips, he decided to do something he hadn’t done in years: go for an early morning run. He left the house without a set route in mind. Making a turn down Franklin Street, he passed both his mother’s house and the bed-and-breakfast where Judge Williams was staying. He then left the main road and made his way through neighborhoods with smaller homes. Reaching an intersection, he turned left and passed by the house where Gracie Blaylock lived. Buddy inwardly acknowledged the huge role Gracie had played in the good things that had taken place on his mother’s porch, but he knew it was really about him and the Lord. He retraced his way down Franklin Street. It was still too early for his mother to be outside watering the flowers.

  At the office, Buddy determined to greet Millie and Jennifer in a normal manner. But when he spoke to Millie, he smiled broadly and laughed.

  The office manager gave him a strange look. “Is something wrong with my hair?” she asked, raising her hands to the sides of her tightly coiffed head.

  “No, you look fine, uh, lovely.” Buddy stopped and chuckled again.

  He continued to his office, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. The phone on his desk buzzed. He steadied himself for a follow-up question from Millie about what was wrong with him this morning.

  He picked it up. “I’m sorry,” he began.

  “Excuse me,” Jennifer said. “Mr. Varnego is on the phone. He needs to reschedule his appointment this morning, and I wasn’t sure what to tell him.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  Buddy talked to the client, then moved into his morning routine. Several times he paused and checked to make sure the peace he’d felt upon waking remained. Around 11:00 a.m. he received a call from Mayleah.

  “Good morning!” he said more enthusiastically than he intended.

  “Good morning to you,” Mayleah replied. “Detective Morrison, who’s trained in handwriting analysis, believes there’s at least a slim chance Reagan is using the name Kimberly Landers.”

  Buddy knew Detective Morrison to be a no-nonsense officer.

  “But I wanted to tell you what the Chattanooga detective told me during our phone call. I’d mentioned your search for Amber the other day, and she jotted down some notes. She says there are several people with the last name Melrose living in the Soddy-Daisy area, with a lot more in Chattanooga.”

  “That’s what I discovered in my research.”

  “That’s not all. She talked with a man named Vick Melrose, who lives in Soddy-Daisy. When she asked if he knew a woman in her thirties named Amber Melrose, he told her that Amber is his great-niece.”

  “Does he know where she is?” Buddy asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  “No. He claims that she’s moved around a lot over the past few years, and he hasn’t seen her in a while. He became suspicious when the detective asked if he would help track her down and refused to answer any more questions. I think it would be worth talking to him in person and laying out exactly why you want to contact Amber.”

  “Absolutely.” Buddy opened the calendar screen on his computer.

  “I was looking at next Tuesday.”

  Buddy moved to the calendar for the following week. “I only have one office appointment with a client who can come in another day. I’ll block it off. Is there anything I should do to prepare?”

  “No.”

  “Will you identify yourself as a police officer?”

  “No, I’ll be out of my jurisdiction.”

  Buddy paused for a moment. “Are you available for lunch today? There’s something personal I’d like to tell you about.”

  “Yeah, if we can make it early.”

  “No problem. The Crossroads at eleven forty-five?”

  “See you then.”

  Buddy hung up the phone and went out to Millie’s desk. It was the fifth of the month, and the office manager was opening envelopes that contained rent checks from tenants.

  “How is it looking this month?” Buddy asked.

  “Pretty good,” Millie said.

  “I’m going to be out of town next Tuesday with Detective Harkness. We’re going to talk to one of Amber’s great-uncles who lives near Chattanooga.”

  “Is that why you bounced in here so chipper this morning?”

  “No, that was something else. It had to do with time I spent last night at my mother’s house with Gracie Blaylock. We went outside onto the porch after dinner—”

  Millie held up her hand, palm out. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” she said. “You, the detective, now the clerk of court. That’s a roller coaster I’m not interested in riding.”

  When he arrived at the restaurant, Buddy saw Mayleah sitting in the back corner.

  “I know you’re on a tight schedule and hope you ordered,” he said.

  “No, I waited for you.”

  “I went for an early morning run, so I’m starving.”

  Buddy called over a waitress whom he knew well. “We’re ready, Judy,” he said. “And if you could bump her order to the front of the line, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Will do, Buddy,” the middle-aged woman replied.

  Mayleah selected a salad, and Buddy ordered a pork chop with candied yams, applesauce, lima beans, and corn bread.

  “What’s on your mind that we couldn’t discuss over the phone?” Mayleah asked.

  “I had an amazing experience last night at my mother’s house and wanted to tell you about it.”

  Buddy had barely started when the waitress brought Mayleah’s salad.

  “You eat while I talk,” he said. “No, I’ll pray first.”

  Buddy bowed his head. He’d never openly prayed in public and didn’t care who saw him do so.

  “Thank you, God, for what you’ve done in my life and for this food. Amen.”

  “What has God done in your life?” Mayleah asked as soon as Buddy raised his head.

  “That’s what I want to tell you about.”

  Buddy was used to systematically organizing his thoughts and words. Today that ability deserted him. He stumbled, backtracked, and added extraneous information about Judge Williams’s parrot. The waitress brought his meal.

  “It sounds like a bizarre evening,” Mayleah said.

  Buddy continued talking while he cut his pork chop into bite-size pieces without placing one in his mouth.

  Mayleah pointed to his plate. “It looks like you’re preparing to feed a small child.”

  “I didn’t want to stop talking.”

  “But you said you were hungry.”

  “I’m starving.”

  Mayleah laughed. “Okay, I’m assuming that you and Gracie ended up praying together on the porch after the meal, and it was very meaningful. Correct?”

  “Uh, yeah. But that makes it sound a lot drier and more sterile than it was.”

  “Eat,” Mayleah said and pointed to Buddy’s plate.

  Buddy dutifully ate a bite of pork chop.

  Mayleah continued, “I know what you’re talking about because I’ve heard similar stories from people close to me.”

  “Family members?” Buddy asked as he continued to chew.

  “Yes. Including my ex-husband.”

  “What?” Buddy jumped in.

  “Keep eating and don’t interrupt.”

  Buddy ate a bite of candied yams.

  “I’m not sure what to think,” Mayleah said. “I didn’t totally doubt what Clay told me, but I didn’t completely believe him either. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was using his story as a way to convince me to move back to Oklahoma and try to work things out between us. That’s a total 180-degree turnaround, since he was the one who insisted on the divorce.”

  “Did he tell you exactly what happened to him?”

  “A friend invited him to church and promised a wing dinner at one of the best sports bars in town if Clay showed up. My ex-husband loves wings and agreed to go. The minister preached a sermon, and Clay went forward for prayer at the end of the meeting. Now he claims that he’s a different man.”

  “I totally get it. ‘Different’ has been a huge word for me over the past twenty-four hours.”

  Mayleah was silent for a few moments. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “And I don’t want to be selfish in the way I hear it. But I can’t help wondering if what you’re telling me also has something to do with how I need to relate to Clay.”

  “You mean, I’m saying what he might say?”

  “Not exactly, but close enough that it gets my attention.”

  Talking and listening to Mayleah made one thing clear to Buddy: the detective was a friend and ally, nothing more. He felt a pang of regret coupled with relief at realizing the truth.

  Mayleah continued, “Like I said the other night, I don’t want to throw away what I’m building here to run back to Oklahoma, but I can’t shake the possibility that I should consider it.”

  “I’m here as a sounding board if that’s what you need,” Buddy said.

  “You’re already doing it.”

  Mayleah got up from the table and reached into her purse for her wallet.

  “No, I’m buying lunch,” Buddy said. “I invited you.”

  “Not today,” Mayleah said. “You can treat me when we go to Chattanooga.”

  * * *

  Shortly after noon, Gracie walked across the street to pick up lunch from the Crossroads. Deep in thought about how her attitude toward the visiting judge had shifted during the last twenty-four hours, she went directly to the to-go counter. Her order wasn’t quite ready.

  “Gracie.” She heard her name and turned around to see Buddy at his usual table.

  “Would you like to join me?” he asked when she made her way over to him. “I’m alone. Mayleah just left for a meeting.”

  “I’m getting takeout.”

  “You can still eat it at my table.”

  Gracie hesitated.

  “Don’t make me use this fork to threaten you,” Buddy said, holding the raised utensil in front of him.

  “I’m glad it’s not a knife.” Gracie smiled and switched her order to dine-in.

  “How are you doing after last night?” she asked as soon as she sat down.

  “Still different. And it’s going to take awhile to get used to this. I woke up feeling so alive that I went for an early morning run. That may not sound like a big change, but it meant something to me.”

  “That’s what matters.”

  “And I just told Mayleah about it. That’s why I invited her to lunch.”

  The waitress brought Gracie’s meal. Buddy’s plate was almost clean. He ate a final piece of pork chop before continuing.

  “I think she understood what I was talking about, but if she didn’t, it was my fault because I’m not sure exactly how to explain it myself.” Buddy paused. “Her main response was to let me know that her ex-husband recently heard a sermon that changed him and now wants her to consider moving back to Oklahoma.”

  “Is she considering that?”

  “Yes, but she obviously doesn’t want word to get back to anyone at the sheriff’s office.”

  “Sure,” Gracie said, then was silent for a moment. “God restores broken marriages, even after a divorce.”

  Buddy gave her a skeptical look. “Nobody that I’ve ever represented.”

  “Do you know Missy and David Whitaker?” Gracie asked.

  “No.”

  “They remarried after getting a divorce and now have five kids.”

  “What about Sue Ellen and Jackie Ford? Do you think she should take him back when he gets out of jail?”

  Gracie now regretted her comment. She didn’t want to debate Buddy and wasn’t sure what she believed about Sue Ellen and Jackie Ford’s situation.

  “All I can say is that it worked out for the best with Missy and David.”

  “Well, this is Mayleah’s business, but I suspect I’ll hear more about it when we drive to Chattanooga next week to talk to some people about both Reagan and Amber.”

  Buddy told her about Amber’s great-uncle. Gracie was glad for the news and a change in subject.

  “That could be huge,” she said. “To finally find someone who might be willing to talk about what’s been going on for the past seventeen years.”

  “Yes. Will you pray about it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Twenty

  Late in the afternoon, Buddy called Sammy Landry to let him know about the upcoming trip to Chattanooga. Reagan’s father seemed subdued. Buddy wanted to encourage him, but it would be tough to do so in good faith.

  “Finding Reagan remains at the top of my list, and the cooperation we’re getting from Detective Harkness couldn’t be better,” he said.

  “And I appreciate all of that,” Sammy replied. “But instead of the wait getting easier, it’s been the opposite. I’m not sleeping. Crystal isn’t sleeping. The constant questions we get from well-meaning people don’t help either. They’re like sticks of wood on a campfire. My mind is all over the place.”

  “What if we schedule a time to meet at the driving range and hit a bucket or two of balls?” Buddy suggested.

  “I haven’t done that since this all started. The only reason I played with you and the guys the other day was that it had been on the books for a long time.”

  “My hesitation is that it might ruin the new groove I discovered when we played. I’m scared my slice will rear its ugly head.”

  Sammy chuckled slightly, which was a golden sound to Buddy’s ears.

  “That’s why it’s both a great game and a terrible game,” Sammy said. “I chase some of the fantastic shots I’ve made for years hoping they might come back.”

  They set a time for Saturday morning.

  “And the first two buckets are on me,” Buddy said.

  “No way—”

  “Yes, because you’re going to be standing beside me giving me a lesson.”

  “Okay. Deal.”

  After the call ended, Jennifer came into Buddy’s office with a FedEx packet and placed it on his desk. It was the results of his DNA test. Buddy read the summary sheet and chuckled. As suspected, he was a combination of many ethnic groups who washed ashore in America and created a new life. He was sixteen percent French, but there was almost as much English, German, Swedish, Spanish, and a lesser amount of Russian. Toward the bottom of the list was a small percentage of Native American—Cherokee.

  He chuckled. “Mayleah and I are related.”

  Buddy propped up his feet on his chair and went through the rest of the DNA results. He’d read enough about the tests to know that the information looked more precise and scientific than it really was. However, it made for interesting reading. He shared a common ancestor with 312 people in the company’s database. Buddy had checked a box that gave permission for his name and contact information to be released in case someone within the same subset wanted to connect with him. One of those could be Elise. In his heart he hoped; in his mind he doubted. There was a much greater probability that Amber’s great-uncle in Tennessee would provide a viable lead.

  Because he’d taken a run in the morning, Buddy stayed later than usual at the office. As he was getting ready to leave, he called his mother.