Carolina Moon

violent with you.”
    “All of my life.” Giving in, Tory sat.
    “And with your mother?”
    “No, not really. He didn’t have to be. I believe he battered her in more recent years, when I wasn’t there. But that would be speculation.”
    “I’m told you don’t have to speculate.” Williams glanced up, fixed her eyes on Tory’s face. “You claim to be psychic.”
    “I don’t claim anything.”
    “You were involved in several cases of abducted children a few years ago.”
    “What would that have to do with my mother’s murder?”
    “You were friends with Hope Lavelle.” Marks picked up the pattern smoothly, slid into a chair himself while his partner remained standing.
    “Yes, very good friends.”
    “And you led her family and the authorities to her body.”
    “Yes. I’m sure you have the reports. There’s nothing I can add to them.”
    “You claimed to have seen her murder.” When Tory didn’t respond, Marks leaned forward. “Recently, you enlisted the aid of Abigail Lawrence, an attorney in Charleston. You were interested in a series of sexual homicides. Why?”
    “Because they were all killed by the same person, the same person who murdered Hope. Because each of them was Hope to him, at a different age.”
    “You … sense this,” Williams commented, and drew Tory’s gaze.
    “I know this. I don’t expect you to believe me.”
    “If you know this,” Williams continued, “why didn’t you come forward?”
    “To what purpose? To amuse someone like you? To have what happened to Jonah Mansfield dragged up again and my part in it thrown in my face? You know all there is to know about me, Agent Williams.”
    Marks took a plastic bag from his pocket, tossed it on the desk. Inside was a single earring, a simple gold hoop. “What can you tell us about that?”
    Tory kept her hands in her lap. “It’s an earring.”
    “One of the things we know is you’re very cool under fire.” Williams stepped forward. “You were interested enough in the murders to gather information on them. Aren’t you interested enough to see what you can pick up, let’s say, from that?”
    “I’ve told you all I can about my father. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find him.”
    Marks picked up the bag. “Start with this.”
    “Was it my mother’s?” Without thinking, Tory snatched it out of his hand, broke the seal, then closed her fingers over the earring.
    She opened herself, wanting this last connection more than she’d realized. She shivered once, then dropped the earring onto the desk. “The mate’s in your pocket,” she said to Williams. “You took them off as you were driving into town, put this one in here.” Her eyes tracked up, stayed level. “I’m not required to put myself on display for you.”
    “I apologize.” Williams stepped forward to pick up the earring. “I do know quite a bit about you, Miss Bodeen. I was interested in the work you did in New York. I’ve studied the Mansfield case.” She slipped the earring back into her pocket. “They should have listened to you.” She gave her partner a quiet look. “I intend to.”
    “There’s nothing more I can tell you.” She got to her feet. “Faith, would you show them out please?”
    “Sure.”
    Williams took out a card, laid it on the desk, then followed Faith out of the storeroom. Minutes later Faith came back in, took out a fresh Coke, and settled down in the chair Marks had vacated.
    “You could tell that just by touching that earring. You knew it was hers and all that just by touching it?”
    “I have work to do.”
    “Oh, get over yourself.” Faith took a long swig from the bottle. “I swear, I’ve never known anybody takes every damn thing so serious. What we ought to do is go buy ourselves some lottery tickets or run on up to the racetrack. Can you tell with horses? I don’t see why you couldn’t.”
    “For God’s sake.”
    “Well, why not? Why can’t you have some fun with it? It doesn’t have to be some dark, depressing weight. No, I’ve got it. Better than horses. We’ll go to Vegas and play blackjack. Jesus Christ, Tory, we’d break the bank in every casino.”
    “It’s not something to profit from.”
    “Why not? Oh, of course, I forgot. This is you. You’d rather mope about it. Poor little me.” Faith dabbed an invisible hankie under her eyes. “I’m psychic, so I must suffer.”
    The insult was so huge, Tory couldn’t imagine why her lips wanted to twitch into a ridiculous