Page 10 of Pieces of Perfect
“Your mother was eighteen,” he said.
Lorelei felt her jaw drop. She’d expected to hear excuses and lies.
“And her name?” Serenity asked.
“Laura.”
Serenity clasped her hands together so tightly Lorelei could see her knuckles whiten. “Do you remember her last name?”
“I do. But I’m afraid I can’t give you that information. It would be irresponsible of me. As harsh as that must sound—and I sincerely apologize for that and so many other things—I have to take her feelings into account. I don’t want to make what I did even worse. I hope you can understand.”
Again, Lorelei was surprised by his response. Although it wasn’t what any of them had hoped to hear, it sounded reasonable. “I suppose the same goes for my mother,” Reagan said. “I was born in Cincinnati.”
“Yes. I remember your mother, too. Her name was Liz. She was beautiful. Just like you.”
Fortunately, there was nothing suggestive about the compliment. He was acting rather fatherly—in the parent sense, not the church sense—which was disconcerting in its own way, since he was a total stranger and not someone they held a very high opinion of.
Lorelei spoke up for the first time. “I don’t know where I was born. I’m guessing Mississippi, because that’s where I was adopted by a couple named Mitch and Sarah Ryan.”
“I never met any of the adoptive parents,” he said. “I was always out of the picture by then. But if you’re the child I think you are, your real mother was named Kristina. She was only fifteen. I feel the worst about her.”
“Because…”
“She was so young,” he said as if that should be obvious. “But if it helps, you were also born in Cincinnati. They’d moved me to Mississippi by then, but your mother…she reached out to let me know she’d had a girl.”
If the reason he was being so nice was to strike up a relationship with them, it wasn’t going to work. But Lorelei felt relieved that this meeting wasn’t as adversarial as she’d feared. “So you never met my adoptive mother.”
He seemed confused that she’d ask about Sarah instead of Kristina. “No. Why do you think I might have?”
“I’m not saying you did. I just…she was murdered two years after I was born.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Who raised you, then?”
“I went into the foster system, and her killer has never been identified.”
His eyes widened, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m guilty of abusing my position as a clergyman and of statutory rape. Those things are bad enough. I regret what I did. I can’t tell you how much. But I had nothing to do with anyone’s murder. I’ve never even met this woman you’re asking about, didn’t even know her name until you mentioned it.”
That made sense. Why would he? Lorelei had been grasping at straws, hoping one piece of the puzzle might lead to another. “You don’t think there’s any chance…my biological mother or any of her family could’ve tracked Sarah down, do you?”
“To harm her?” He shook his head. “No. They’d never do such a thing. I’m sure they were grateful you were in a goodhome. Giving you up meant Kristina could finish school, go on to college, build a life.”
“So who killed Sarah?” Lorelei asked. Now she was asking him to speculate, but she had so little to go on. At least he’d been involved in the situation at the time. Maybe he could tell hersomethingthat would lead to something else.
He spread out his hands. “I wish I could tell you. But just in case you still think it might’ve been me—maybe because I’m the only bad person you know in this whole mess—I can assure you it wasn’t. And I can prove it. I was in custody at the time.”
“You didn’t go to prison until after I was found,” Lorelei said. “We have a newspaper article dated after she would’ve been murdered that talks about your trial and the sentence you received.”
“But preparing for my trial took almost a full year. I was in custody that whole time.”
Which meant he couldn’t have been in Florida, murdering Sarah Ryan and dumping her body in a swamp. If he cared about the child he’d createdat all, he was probably grateful someone had adopted her, and he no longer had to feel any obligation. “I see.”
“I can prove it,” he reiterated.
“I believe you,” she said.
“I’m a true crime writer,” Serenity told him, “and I plan on writing our story. What happened back then. How Lorelei, Reagan and I found each other through DNA testing. Is there any chance you’d be willing to meet with me again and tell me more about what you were thinking and feeling, and why you did what you did?”
He hesitated. He didn’t seem too pleased with the idea, but he ultimately nodded. “I wish I knew why I did what I did. Since I don’t, I’m not sure that what I have to say will be meaningful.But as long as it doesn’t put any of the women I’ve already hurt in a worse position, I’ll help as much as I can.”
