In a way, it was. So far, the evidence proved her parents to be upstanding people without skeletons in their closet.
Genevieve thanked the woman, who left her and Sam alone at a utilitarian office table. Genevieve contemplated the textured ivory wall opposite her, trying to think.
Her judgment had been clouded by Oxy back when she’d received the threatening letter. Had it struck her as ominous because of the drugs in her system?
No. The drugs had helped her view everything in her life as less ominous, not more.
The letter hadn’t upset Natasha the way it had upset Genevieve. So why had it had such a jarring effect on her?
Intuition.
It was the only explanation she had. Even now, in the face of today’s dead end, she wasn’t ready to call off the search.
“The two offices we’ve just visited,” Sam said, “only have records for Rabun, Habersham, and Stephens Counties. Have your parents lived anywhere else?”
“Yes.” She overlapped her hands on the table. “My mom grew up in Athens, and my dad grew up in Augusta. Then they both attended Mercer University in Macon. Their paths didn’t cross there, though. My mom was a freshman when my dad was a senior.”
“And then?”
“After he graduated, Dad went into the navy. After she graduated, Mom taught second grade for a year or two. Then she moved to Savannah and taught first grade there. By that time, my dad was in law school in Savannah. They met at a church social. He asked her out that night, and they’ve been together ever since.”
“Did they move straight from Savannah to Misty River?”
She nodded. “They got married in Augusta while my dad was still in law school and my mom was still working in Savannah. After he passed the bar exam, a job offer brought them to Misty River.” She considered their history. “Maybe I’ll look at records next in my mom’s hometown of Athens. It’s the closest of all the places they’ve lived.”
Sam followed her to the clerk’s desk. The redhead raised her face with pleasant inquiry.
“Do you happen to know where I can find records for the city of Athens like the ones you keep here?”
“Athens is in Clarke County, and that county’s records are kept in the courthouse in Athens.” She consulted her computer, then jotted down a phone number.
Genevieve checked her watch. Too late to head to Athens today. It would take her an hour and a half to get there, and it was already three forty-five on a Friday. She’d have to wait and travel to Athens on Monday—no, Tuesday. She and Natasha had made plans for an early lunch on Monday with Wyatt’s mother.
The clerk slipped the number for the Athens courthouse across the counter to her.
She accepted it, glanced at Sam, and caught him watching her.
Her blood rushed in response.
Oh my.
This really wasn’t good.
They made their way out of the building in the direction of his truck.
She’d been in love just once, during her college years. With a funny, confident fraternity president and baseball player named Thad. They’d dated for two years, and she’d been dreaming of marrying him when she’d learned that he’d cheated on her. Their relationship had ended in a blast of shrapnel.
Since Thad, it was unusual for her to experience a pang of attraction as powerful as the one she’d just experienced for Sam.
Since Thad, she’d gone on what felt like hundreds of first dates and had pretty much exhausted the supply of single men her friends knew, were related to, or worked with. She’d liked many of the guys she’d met. She’d dated a couple of them for a handful of months.
But that elusive, mystical thing—love—had never revisited her again. Dauntless, she’d continued to dress up and stride into coffeehouses to shake hands with yet another new man a friend had assured her would be perfect for her.
But what if God had only given her one allotment of love ... that she’d squandered on Thad? Or maybe, since God had already granted her a successful career, He didn’t intend to give her love, too.
God had a sense of humor, yes. But knowing her heart and her history on the subject of men, surely,surelyHe would not have allowed her to meet a highly eligible man after taking too many painkillers and house-crashing a cottage, right at the most inopportune low point of her life.
God wouldn’t dare do that to her.
