Cold Target by Patricia; Potter

“I’m hoping this will be easy and something helpful might be on the birth certificate. Try to find any records of an adoption. If you can’t locate any, give me a list of adoption agencies in and around Memphis as well as attorneys who were known to handle private adoptions.”
    â€œI can do that,” Sarah said.
    â€œI know you can,” Meredith said, looking down at her hands. They were clenched. She hoped Sarah didn’t notice. “You’re a treasure.”
    Sarah grinned “You pay me to be a treasure. What does your dad know about the baby?” Sarah asked, suddenly changing the subject.
    â€œHe says I shouldn’t ‘rummage around in the past’ and destroy my mother’s reputation. He also says it’s none of my business, that I should let it go. He thought I should worry about my own inheritance.”
    â€œMost people would,” Sarah said.
    â€œI would rather have a sister.”
    â€œSo you think we can eliminate your father as the father of the child?” Sarah said.
    â€œMost definitely.”
    â€œBut he knows something about it.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWould your grandfather have been involved?”
    â€œMost certainly. She was only seventeen. She said she was sent somewhere in Memphis.”
    â€œDo you have any relatives in that area?”
    â€œA great-aunt used to live there. She died three years ago.”
    â€œWas she married?”
    â€œYes, but I think her husband died before her.”
    â€œDo you have an address?”
    â€œI can probably find it in my mother’s address book or … somewhere.” She stopped suddenly, realizing that she had no idea how her mother kept that kind of information. “The name was Warren, I think. Sylvia Warren. I think her husband’s name was Bob.”
    â€œProbably Robert then. What did he do?”
    â€œI think he was a builder. I never met him. I met my aunt when she came to my grandmother’s funeral.”
    â€œThat’s a little strange, don’t you think? That you didn’t see more of her. New Orleans isn’t that far from Memphis.”
    â€œI never really thought of it. I remember liking her when I met her, but I never questioned why we didn’t see her again. It was my mother’s aunt and I had the impression my father didn’t care for her. In any event, he was never strong on family or sentimentality.”
    Sarah nodded. She knew Charles Rawson’s reputation. And her employer’s reticence on the subject spoke volumes.
    â€œDid they have children? If so, they might remember something if your mother did stay with her aunt.”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    Sarah raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
    â€œMother never talked about her,” Meredith said defensively.
    â€œDid you two ever talk about anything?”
    â€œNo, I guess we didn’t. Not really. She was always busy. And even when she was home, she wasn’t. Not really. Not in spirit.” Pain and anger filled her again. Why had her mother waited until now to confide in her? How could her mother care so much about the child she’d given up and care so little about the one she’d kept? She swallowed past the lump in her throat. It was too late. Everything was too late. Too late to realize her mother had loved, that she had suffered. Too late to discover that her mother did feel emotion and maybe felt some for the daughter she had raised.
    Or had the lack of emotion been because she’d lost the daughter by a man she loved and was burdened with the one by the man she hated? That thought was excruciating.
    She was numb. She realized she had been numb ever since her mother had revealed her secret. The numbness had cloaked an anger so deep she could barely contain it. She looked at her hands and saw that they shook.
    She willed them to still.
    Sarah looked away.
    Meredith changed the subject. It was still too raw.