Peyton turned.
“I’m sorry. It was terribly rude of me not to ask. How is Grace?”
“She misses her mother.”
Carmen nodded, her expression a mix of understanding and sympathy. “Becoming a guardian unexpectedly can be nerve-wracking, and learning to take care of an infant can be overwhelming. There’s a wonderful parenting class held at Saint Andrew's Church. They also run a women’s shelter, which is always in need of donations if you feel so inclined. Ask for Mimi Nguyen. She can help you.”
Peyton’s heart skipped a beat. She held the other woman’s gaze for a moment, doing her best to convey the gratitude swelling in her chest. “Thank you, counselor.”
“Good luck, Special Agent. I hope you find Lilia safe and sound.”
“So do I.”
SIXTEEN
Saint Andrew’s Church was three blocks away, tucked between towering office buildings like a relic from a bygone era. Mimi Nguyen, the director of operations, was currently running an errand but would be back soon. The secretary invited them to wait in the church. Pews lined either side of the aisle leading to the marble altar. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, and stained-glass windows painted the stone floor in shifting colors as the sun moved across the sky. Dawson was humbled by it.
“Gorgeous,” Peyton murmured, her neck craning to take in the carvings on the giant stone columns. Her steps were silent as she gravitated to the piano tucked in the corner, near a set of risers probably used for the choir. She touched the wood lovingly before lifting her attention to the cross hanging behind the pulpit.
Dawson’s chest tightened. He’d spent hours watching her play the piano in church. In those moments, she’d lose herself, completely unguarded, her mind and spirit taken over by the music. It’d been a beautiful sight to witness. One of the many things he missed.
She’d stopped playing entirely after Samuel died.
“Do you miss it?” Dawson joined her. He’d removed his cowboy hat and held it loosely in one hand.
Peyton’s brows crinkled in confusion for a moment, and then understanding dawned. “I started playing in church last year. Not consistently. Work keeps me busy, but I play as much as I can.”
“What made you return to it?”
She turned to face him. “Remember when I told you I was in a bad car accident? It was about a year and a half ago. My fault. I was working overtime, not taking care of myself, and I fell asleep at the wheel. Just for a moment. But it was long enough to send my patrol car over the curb. It flipped three times. The doctor said it was a miracle I survived.”
He inhaled sharply. She’d nearly died, and he hadn’t known about it.
“I couldn’t understand it.” Peyton tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze lifting to the cross once again. “Why had God spared me? It didn’t make sense. For years, I’d believed that He was punishing me. That losing Samuel was proof that I wasn’t worthy of true happiness.”
It hurt to hear her say these things about herself. Dawson had known that Peyton struggled with self-esteem long before their son’s death. She’d been through so much even before they met. A father who abandoned her, a mother who loved her but had been chaotic and unstable until her death. Nana Grace had been a steadying force, but even that had been fraught with trouble. Sandra’s battle with addiction had affected the whole family, including Lilia, who floated back and forth between her mother and her grandmother.
Peyton had responded to the chaos by excelling in every way she could. In her studies. In music. On the softball field. And it dawned on him. “You tried to earn God’s love.”
She nodded. “After the accident, I wanted to understand why, if I was so unworthy, had God spared me? I went to church for the first time since Samuel died. The pastor helped me see that my faith had been transactional, but that’s not how it works. God doesn’t love me because I earned it. He loves me because I’m His. That’s it. That’s enough.”
The words were heartfelt and reverent. They pierced Dawson’s heart with their truth. He’d noticed a shift in her, a peace and quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before. Now he understood it.
He reached for her hand, taking it in his and squeezing lightly. “I’m glad you found your way back to Him, Peyton.”
Their eyes met, and a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Gratitude. Regret. Loss. Hope. They didn't need to say any of it. Fifteen years of loving someone gave you a language that didn't require words.
A door creaked open, interrupting the quiet moment, followed by brisk footsteps. Moments later, an older woman with gray hair and reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck appeared. Dawson dropped Peyton’s hand and turned to greet her. “Mimi Nguyen?”
“Yes.” She came to a stop in front of them, her assessing gaze cataloguing Peyton and then Dawson.
Mimi might look like someone’s kind grandmother, but she had the careful astuteness of a woman who'd spent years sizing up strangers and deciding whether they could be trusted.
Dawson shifted his jacket so his badge was visible. “I’m Detective Dawson Graham with the Knoxville Police Department. This is Special Agent Peyton Hughes. We were hoping you could answer a few questions about Lilia Morrison.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that Carmen Reyes had sent them, but he didn’t want to get the lawyer into trouble. Technically, she hadn’t violated attorney-client privilege, butshe’d skittered very close to it. “Lilia is missing, and it’s important that we find her. Peyton is her cousin.”
Mimi clasped her hands in front of her. “Forgive me, Detective Graham, but I don’t know a Lilia Morrison.”
She was lying. Dawson held her gaze. “Call the Knoxville Police Department and ask for Chief Sam Garcia. He will confirm our investigation and verify we are who we say we are .”
