“Who is Morgan,” Connor asked, flipping open a pocket-sized spiral notebook.
“She’s our therapist on staff, but she’s only here on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Carl answered.
“I’d like to interview her, please.” Connor slipped Carl his business card.
Tiffany bristled. “All conversations between Morgan and our residents are confidential.”
“I’m well aware of the restrictions, but as a detective, it’s my job to gather all the information I can about this case, from all available sources.” The set line of Connor’s jaw told her he meant business.
She couldn’t hold that against him. What happened this morning to Tara was bigger than her and Connor’s problems with each other. Which meant she had to set aside her offense and do what had to be done. She’d march into the cafeteria, and she’d wrap those children in a tight hug, as they surely had heard by now what had happened. She would minister to the ladies, pray with them, assure them their lives didn’t have to end as Tara’s had.
While in recovery, that had been one of her worst fears. She’d hear of a lady on the road to sobriety who had returned to her former life and lost the battle. It would make her question if there was any hope for her if she could really overcome her addiction.
But she had overcome. She’d conquered her addiction and was healing from the scars of her abusive marriage. Some people struggled with the temptation to return all their lives. She considered herself lucky because she had reached a point where she could honestly say she wasn’t tempted to turn back to drugs.
She had a testimony of how God had saved her and given her a new life. She would share that testimony again with the ladies of Hope House. Not to gloat or bring praise to herself, but to give God the glory and show them what was possible. They would need that assurance.
