The Departed

still have to piece more of it together from her, but I don’t think this woman wanted to hurt her. And this has nothing to do with me or what I want. Nothing to do with you or what you want, either, really. I’ve got to do what they need.”
    She knew she was risking everything as she took a step closer. Taking that chance, she reached out, laid a hand on his chest. He froze, standing rigid. “How do you know this woman didn’t kill her? To keep what she’d done silent?”
    “I don’t know that. Not yet.” Licking her lips, she continued. “But regardless, it doesn’t matter. Because your sister can’t let go until this woman is helped. What’s more important to you, Taylor? Justice…or peace for that little girl? Because I don’t know that I can help you find both.”
    * * *
     
    HE wouldn’t let himself think.
    That was the way it had to be as he followed Dez into the hospital.
    He even knew where they were going. Everything had changed for Dez the minute Blake Hensley had said a name. And now he was staring at the woman who was responsible for his sister’s death. Whether she’d killed her or just driven his sister into an accident, Taylor didn’t know.
    But Jacqueline Moore, the pretty, delicate blonde that Joshua Moore had taken as his second wife, was responsible for the death of six-year-old Anna Jones, missing for the past twenty-five years.
    As they stood in the door, the Moores seemed to sense their presence and Joshua looked up. A spasm twisted his mouth and he glanced at his wife before he stood. She caught his hand, though. “You stay here with him,” she murmured. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
    * * *
     
    DESPAIR—pain—
    Dez jerked her shields up, almost knocked to her feet by the pain coming off this woman. Oh, she hid it. She hid it very well. It had spiked the second she looked at Taylor, too, something that would have made Dez’s antennae quiver, if she had any, and if she hadn’t already sensed something off about this woman.
    There were all sorts of things off about her.
    All sorts of things…
    With that sweet smile in place, Jacqueline Moore shut the door behind her. With that sweet smile still in place, she turned around to face them. And without ever losing that smile, she said, “You two shouldn’t be here. Not after what you caused.”
    It was almost eerie, Dez thought. Like seeing a doll speak.
    “Joshua wanted to see us.”
    “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, shaking her head. “Brendan’s paralyzed. He can’t move his legs, can’t feel anything below the middle of his chest. It’s your fault.” She paused, shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    She turned to go back inside—to barricade herself.
    Dez reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder. As she did it, she lowered her shields. And all of the wrongness , all of that brokenness flooded her.
    Gasping for breath, she fought the torrent, tried to break it off. Because it wasn’t just one way. Dez wasn’t very good at this thing and when she was receiving this much, all the channels in her mind burst open and she couldn’t keep it trapped—it flooded out of her, back into Jacqueline, and she flinched as the woman whimpered, then sagged.
    Angel…my pretty little angel. You let some dirty bastard touch you? Who was it? Who’s been putting his dirty hands on my angel?
    The pain blistered out of her—intense, obscene.
    My pretty, precious angel. You are my angel, aren’t you? No matter what —
    Yes, Daddy. I’m your angel . Heartbreak. Despair. Self-loathing and hatred. Then, the memory of a face in the mirror. A child. Just a child…perhaps no older than Anna had been.
    Another face.
    A man’s face. Cruel and angry. Little slut. Who is it? Who did you let touch you?
    The girl cowered, protecting her ripe, swollen belly. Nobody, Daddy. There’s nobody but… She didn’t say it. She couldn’t because Daddy didn’t like to hear her say those words. Not at all.
    Then there was a smile. Relief from the pain in her heart. And she held a small, precious little baby. This was an angel, her angel, and she’d treat this precious little gift the way an angel should be treated. Nobody would hurt her baby. Nobody. Even though it meant begging another for help, because she couldn’t go home. Couldn’t risk having her sweet little baby near Daddy. That baby who had her daddy’s eyes. Even though pain and shame twisted through her, because she knew it was wrong, knew