“Tell me about your relationship with Zeke Caine. How old were you when he adopted you?”
Robert reached for a cookie on a snowman-shaped platter on the sofa table. “My biological father died from leukemia, and my mother traveled for a while with me, finally stopping here in town and finding her place with the church when I must’ve been around four years old.” He scratched his beard. “To be honest, I don’t remember any of it.”
“Pastor Caine adopted you at that time?” Huck asked.
Robert nodded. “Right around that time. I started calling him father after they were married, so it must’ve been the same time. He’s a good father, and I miss him.” The man spoke about the pastor in the present tense.
“When was your sister born?” Laurel asked.
“Half-sister,” Robert snarled. “We don’t share full blood, let me tell you.”
Laurel leaned back. No love lost there. “I thought you said Abigail called earlier. It sounds like you’re in touch.”
Jasmine shook her hair and the strands fell softly around her shoulders. “Oh, no. She left a message. We don’t speak to her if possible.” She shivered. “There’s just something so . . . not right about her.”
Robert squirmed as if fighting himself. “Listen. I don’t have any proof, and I’m sure it’s a sacrilege to even say anything, but I’d ask her about our father’s disappearance. I mean, he disappears two years after she returns to the area and starts teaching? It could be a coincidence, but . . .”
Jasmine clutched her hands. “Oh, Robby. Abigail isn’t the nicest of people, but she wouldn’t have hurt her own father. Come on.” The music shifted fromSilent NighttoRudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
“I know. You’re right,” Robert said, his tone gentle.
Jasmine lifted the cookie plate and held it in front of Laurel. “Please take one. It’s a new recipe.”
Laurel chose a bell-shaped cookie with thick yellow frosting. “Thank you.”
“For you, Captain?” Jasmine half stood to extend the platter.
He lifted a hand. “Thank you, but I’m allergic to nuts, and I can see a couple in there. I appreciate the offer, though.”
Laurel frowned. That was news. She bit into the cookie and nearly moaned, finishing it quickly. “That is the best cookie I’ve ever had.”
Jasmine grinned and blushed prettily. “Thank you. It’s the frosting, to be honest. I’ve worked for years on it.”
“You should taste her strawberry pie. I’ve seen adults nearly come to blows at the church picnic for the last piece.” Robert winked at his wife.
Laurel kept herself from taking another cookie. One was enough. “Do you mind telling us about Abigail?”
Robert’s amusement faded. “Sure. She came along when I was five years old, and within a few years, was smarter than anybody in the room. But she didn’t use that gift from God to do good. Instead, she was always getting in trouble and trying not to get caught. Being bored is the absolute worst thing for Abigail, and everyone around her, because she’ll make you pay for it.” He shook his head.
“Was she ever treated by a professional or diagnosed by a psychologist?” Laurel asked as gently as she could.
Robert barked out a laugh. “No. Of course not. Most people couldn’t see the evil in her, and she usually managed to blame me for her mischief. Then Mom died, Dad got distant, and some good wind of fate, in the figure of the local authorities, took Abby away.” He looked down at his hands. “It was one of the best days of my life.”
“Oh, Robby.” Jasmine stood and walked over to plunk herself on his lap. She kissed his forehead.
Laurel watched them. What would it be like to have somebody like that, a partner in life? She’d never come close in a romantic relationship. “How did your mother die?”
“River rafting,” Robert said quietly. “It was a family trip, and she fell out of the boat and hit her head on a rock. She didn’t drown, but a brain hemorrhage got her anyway. I was in my teens and Abigail was around twelve.” He leaned his head on his wife’s neck.
Huck eyed the cookies as if he wanted to risk the allergic reaction. “Why did the authorities take Abigail out of the house?”
Robert settled an arm around Jasmine’s waist, holding her securely on his lap. “Nothing bad was going on. Abby tested off the chart on the state tests at school, and a couple of the teachers wanted her sent to gifted programs. Our father dropped into a depression after Mom died, and he wasn’t taking as good care of Abby as he should. He would’ve come out of it, but they went after him, and he didn’t fight the authorities. He just let her go.”
Jasmine rubbed his shoulders. “I’m sure your dad regretted that time.”
“He really did,” Robert said. “I know he tried to contact Abby through the years, but until she came back home, she never answered his calls or letters.”
“What happened when she returned home?” Laurel asked, her instincts awakening.
