child!"
Several men came out of the crowd and shifted closer, just in case Cori tried to make a break for freedom.
"I can explain." She spoke aloud but no one heard. Kayla was screaming against her mother's leg, terrified by Cori's abrupt behavior. The mother was guarding her and yelling instructions into the crowd.
Cori sat on the bench, her thoughts centered on a tall, sandy-haired man who had crept up on her in her sleep and put three chocolate kisses by her thigh. The child had seen him. He wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"You are going to jail," the woman spat at Cori.
"Your child found some candy on the bench beside me. She ate it, and it suddenly occurred to me it might be poisoned. I made her spit it out." Cori spoke softly, staring directly into the woman's eyes. At last her words penetrated and some of the fury left the mother's face.
She turned to the child and spoke in rapid French, which Cori had never learned to follow. The child looked at Cori, her eyes still filled with tears but no longer screaming, and nodded her head.
The mother knelt down and examined the little girl's mouth. Traces of chocolate were clearly evident.
"I shouldn't have let her have the candy," Cori said. "I wasn't thinking. But she saw it here, and I didn't care. But then I realized I had no idea where it had come from. That maybe someone had, you know, put something in it."
Cori's words raised another fear in the mother's face, but she was calmer now. She spoke to the child again. This time the little girl shook her head. The mother turned back to Cori. "She said the candy fell from your purse."
Cori felt as if she'd been slapped. "It didn't come from my purse. She told me a man left it on the bench."
The mother consulted with Kayla once again in the heated rush of French. She held the little girl's face so that she could not look away. At last she turned back to Cori. "She said it came from your purse, that it fell out on the bench."
"A man left it. Kayla saw him. She described him perfectly. She said he looked like her Uncle Adam."
The woman gave Cori a strange look and spoke to the child in French once again. Placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder, she slowly shifted her away from Cori. "Kayla made up the story of the man."
"Why?" Cori felt her boost of confidence fade and her fears grow as she watched the woman's face fall into an expression of pity. "Because you looked so sad and alone. She wanted you to have a boyfriend. She said the candy fell from your purse." The woman backed away from Cori. "Kayla doesn't have an Uncle Adam."
Cori sagged against the bench.
"The candy she ate, where did it come from?" The mother was still worried that the candy might be contaminated.
Cori looked up. "I don't know."
Something in her vague and troubled state made the woman pull her daughter against her body.
"We'll wash out your mouth, Kayla." She got a Kleenex out of her purse and picked up the candy from the pavement.
In the distance was the angry wail of police cars approaching at a fast clip.
Chapter Four
Joey was drawn to the sound of sirens and the whirling blue lights of the black-and-white units that had congregated at the north end of the French Market. His gut told him that something bad had happened and that, somehow, Cori St. John was involved. He got out of his car and ran, dodging cardboard boxes filled with crafts and treasures. He saw four officers standing in a circle around a woman with dark hair and a big red sweater. Off to the side was a woman and a crying child and a gathering of sightseers that grew larger by the minute.
He stepped forward, flipped his federal commission to the cops and put a proprietary hand on Cori's arm. "Come with me," he said, smoothly pulling her through the tangle of black leather police jackets.
"Hold on." One of the cops grabbed Cori's other shoulder. "We've had a little problem here."
"You're going to have a bigger problem if you don't back off." Joey stepped between
Several men came out of the crowd and shifted closer, just in case Cori tried to make a break for freedom.
"I can explain." She spoke aloud but no one heard. Kayla was screaming against her mother's leg, terrified by Cori's abrupt behavior. The mother was guarding her and yelling instructions into the crowd.
Cori sat on the bench, her thoughts centered on a tall, sandy-haired man who had crept up on her in her sleep and put three chocolate kisses by her thigh. The child had seen him. He wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"You are going to jail," the woman spat at Cori.
"Your child found some candy on the bench beside me. She ate it, and it suddenly occurred to me it might be poisoned. I made her spit it out." Cori spoke softly, staring directly into the woman's eyes. At last her words penetrated and some of the fury left the mother's face.
She turned to the child and spoke in rapid French, which Cori had never learned to follow. The child looked at Cori, her eyes still filled with tears but no longer screaming, and nodded her head.
The mother knelt down and examined the little girl's mouth. Traces of chocolate were clearly evident.
"I shouldn't have let her have the candy," Cori said. "I wasn't thinking. But she saw it here, and I didn't care. But then I realized I had no idea where it had come from. That maybe someone had, you know, put something in it."
Cori's words raised another fear in the mother's face, but she was calmer now. She spoke to the child again. This time the little girl shook her head. The mother turned back to Cori. "She said the candy fell from your purse."
Cori felt as if she'd been slapped. "It didn't come from my purse. She told me a man left it on the bench."
The mother consulted with Kayla once again in the heated rush of French. She held the little girl's face so that she could not look away. At last she turned back to Cori. "She said it came from your purse, that it fell out on the bench."
"A man left it. Kayla saw him. She described him perfectly. She said he looked like her Uncle Adam."
The woman gave Cori a strange look and spoke to the child in French once again. Placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder, she slowly shifted her away from Cori. "Kayla made up the story of the man."
"Why?" Cori felt her boost of confidence fade and her fears grow as she watched the woman's face fall into an expression of pity. "Because you looked so sad and alone. She wanted you to have a boyfriend. She said the candy fell from your purse." The woman backed away from Cori. "Kayla doesn't have an Uncle Adam."
Cori sagged against the bench.
"The candy she ate, where did it come from?" The mother was still worried that the candy might be contaminated.
Cori looked up. "I don't know."
Something in her vague and troubled state made the woman pull her daughter against her body.
"We'll wash out your mouth, Kayla." She got a Kleenex out of her purse and picked up the candy from the pavement.
In the distance was the angry wail of police cars approaching at a fast clip.
Chapter Four
Joey was drawn to the sound of sirens and the whirling blue lights of the black-and-white units that had congregated at the north end of the French Market. His gut told him that something bad had happened and that, somehow, Cori St. John was involved. He got out of his car and ran, dodging cardboard boxes filled with crafts and treasures. He saw four officers standing in a circle around a woman with dark hair and a big red sweater. Off to the side was a woman and a crying child and a gathering of sightseers that grew larger by the minute.
He stepped forward, flipped his federal commission to the cops and put a proprietary hand on Cori's arm. "Come with me," he said, smoothly pulling her through the tangle of black leather police jackets.
"Hold on." One of the cops grabbed Cori's other shoulder. "We've had a little problem here."
"You're going to have a bigger problem if you don't back off." Joey stepped between
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