"You think McEvoy is involved?"
"I bet the farm he's in it up to his tobacco-stained teeth. The son of a bitch."
She raked her hands through her hair and turned in her seat to face him. "So where does this leave us?"
He breathed out a frustrated sigh. "The hospital might be a good place to start."
"I've tried getting records from Good Samaritan in the past with no luck."
"You've never seen my Magnum, P.I., impersonation. Works every time."
"Dirty Harry meets Magnum, P.I., maybe," she said.
She was thinking about small towns and gossip as they drove past the street leading to the mobile home park where Agnes Beckett had lived. Addison stared at the cluster of mailboxes. Her pulse jumped when she spotted the name Harshbarger.
"Stop the car," she said abruptly.
Shooting her a sideways glance, Randall pulled onto the shoulder. He put the car in park, then looked at her expectantly. "What?"
"I've got an idea."
"Since I'm fresh out, let's hear it."
Quickly, Addison told him about her visit with the elderly Jewel Harshbarger during her previous trip to Siloam Springs. "She's lived in this town her entire life."
"She might know something about the rape." He studied her for a moment. "You ever consider going into the private detective business?"
"Careful, Talbot, or you're going to give me a compliment."
"Yeah, I wouldn't want it to go to your head." Grinning, he put the car in gear and pulled onto the street. "Nothing worse than a P.I. with a big head."
She liked his smile, damn him. Even if he was going back to D.C.
"Turn the car around," she said. “The trailer park is right down the street."
*
By the light of the sodium-vapor street lamp, Randall knocked for the third time, cursing when no one answered the door. Dusk had settled, bringing with it a wind-driven chill that invariably found its way to the bone.
"She's not home," Addison said.
"Doesn't look that way."
She'd made a valiant attempt to stay upbeat throughout the ordeal, but Randall didn't miss the fatigue and frustration etched into her features. He knew their lack of progress was wearing her down. If only they'd get a lucky break.
"She wasn't home last time I was here," he said.
He looked at Addison, only to find her eyes on the adjacent mobile home. Compassion stirred in his chest. For the first time he realized fully how long and grueling this search had been for her. Not only did she have to deal with the fact that someone was trying to kill her, but that the woman who'd given birth to her—and everyone else involved with her adoption-had ended up dead.
"I'm sorry this didn't work out," he said.
"It's okay. We'll think of something else."
"Aside from checking with the hospital, I'm fresh out of ideas, Ace."
"Then, let's go to the hospital."
"It's late. Let's check into the motel and see if we can—"
"Don't." Anger sparked like quicksilver in her eyes. "We had an agreement—"
"That wasn't what I was going to suggest." But he had to admit, the idea of getting her into bed appealed to him immensely. "I was going to suggest we try to come up with a game plan. Think this thing through."
She turned away, hugging herself against a gust of wind. "Right."
Randall knew his announcement that he would be returning to D.C. had upset her. Frankly, it was bothering him, too, particularly since they'd slept together. But what were his alternatives? Run from his demons indefinitely? Give up a career he'd invested twelve years of his life building? Drag her down with him?
He wasn't proud of the fact that in some twisted way, it pleased him knowing she cared, even if it was just a little bit. Not that he enjoyed hurting her. He didn't. Not by a long shot. But it had been a long time since somebody cared about him that way.
Needing to feel her close, he put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's get back to the car before we get frostbitten."
She didn't move, but continued to stare at the mobile home where Agnes Beckett had lived and died. "When I think about everything that's happened, sometimes I still can't believe it's real."
"You're shivering." He guided her down the front steps. "Let's go."
Surprising him, she shrugged off his arm and stood facing her birth mother's mobile home. "Just a few short weeks ago she was alive and living right there. So close. If I'd found her sooner maybe—"
"Don't even go there," be warned, knowing intimately the crushing weight of guilt and the toll it could take on one's sanity. "Don't second guess yourself, Addison. It's counterproductive as hell."
"I don't blame myself. Not really. I know I'm not responsible for her death. But I can't help but wonder what might have been if I'd found her sooner." Turning, she looked up at him. "I mean, for months now, I've wondered if she ever thought about me. Is that silly?"
"No," he said gently.
"I want to take a look inside the trailer," she said.
A laugh escaped him, but it didn't hold any humor. He should have seen this one coming. "Absolutely not."