“Did you grow up here in Tyler?”
“No.”
His responses weren’t eliciting any invitation to continue the interrogation, but Morgan didn’t stop. He was special to her. She needed to know him better. Knowing him meant that Sammie was okay. No, getting to know him better helped take her mind off the possible torture her son was experiencing. The fright he had to be experiencing. If he was still…
“Where, then?” she blurted.
“We moved around a lot.”
“But you got a good education.” Obviously. He was a college professor at thirty-two.
“My father was a teacher. He made certain that I had all the schooling I could get.”
Oh. “So he’s retired?” That made more sense. The elder Whittier was supplementing teacher’s retirement.
Cal shrugged, and a car drove past out front but didn’t stop and sent a sharp stab of fear through her. Oh, God. Sammie…
“Have you ever been married?” She pushed the words out quickly and too loud, sounding half-crazed. Which was better than she felt.
“No.”
There was another car out there somewhere. One that had had Sammie in it. Could still have her son bound and gagged and…alive? Please, please. Alive.
“You and your dad have always lived together?” The question ended on a high note. A prelude to tears.
She felt Cal’s approach. She couldn’t look at him anymore. Couldn’t look at the window. “Yes, we’ve always lived together.” His words, filled with compassion, were just above the back of her neck and when he touched her, gently pulled her into his arms, Morgan fell apart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GEORGE WAS ON the phone throughout breakfast. The man’s tone was a bit too curt for Cal, but there was no doubting that Morgan’s father cared deeply about finding her son. He was not taking no for an answer. From anyone. To the point of being in denial of any outcome but the one he ordained.
“Here, Cal, have more bacon.” Grace handed him an inexpensive but colorful serving plate filled with what looked to be a pound of meat left on it. The bowl of lightly fluffed scrambled eggs and plate of home-fried potatoes were equally laden. George was the only one of the five of them sitting there who’d eaten his share.
Cal took bacon he didn’t want.
“Detective Warner?”
The uniformed man who’d been ordered by his captain to go home and shave and get some rest took some more bacon as well, in spite of the untouched piece still on his plate.
“Are you going to be in trouble for staying?” Grace asked the man.
“Captain’s a good guy. He’ll get over it,” he said, adding, “and I’ll go home and shower. I just wanted to wait a bit longer with the press conference and all.”
Grace put a piece of bacon on Morgan’s plate. She didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze traveled from speaker to speaker, as though she was following the conversation, but Cal didn’t believe she could have repeated a word that had been spoken since her mother had called them in from the living room to eat.
She’d dried her eyes before her father saw her tears. She’d stiffened her spine—and her features—and she’d taken her place at the table like a dutiful daughter. Cal admired her strength. Her determination. And he worried about her, too. She was on the verge of collapse and neither of her parents seemed to recognize that fact.
“This is good, Mrs. Lowen, thanks,” Cal said, thinking about a happier Morgan choosing the dishes with primary-colored flowers all over them. Trying to picture her in the store, making her choices. Had Sammie been with her?
When he started to picture himself there, watching her deliberate, he caught himself. He was more tired than he’d thought.
George’s voice droned on. Cal leaned over to the fragile woman sitting up so regally beside him. “You need to eat some of that, not just play table hockey with it,” he said softly. “Without sleep that food is your only source of energy… .”
He couldn’t promise her that Sammie would be walking in the door needing things from her that she had to be able to give. He didn’t want to tell her she had to be strong—he had an idea she’d been hearing that one all of her life. He just told her like it was.
She glanced at him for a long moment. Cal studied those weary brown eyes and would have given much to be able to give her every bit of energy he’d ever had.
She ate a forkful of egg. And then another. And…