Page 77 of Every Last One
FORTY-THREE
6:00 PM
Eric knocked on the door for Trudy Hall, Sparling’s daughter. A brief background showed she was thirty-five, single, and living in this house by herself. On that latter point, he’d been surprised before, so he was prepared for anything.
Footsteps padded toward the door, and it cracked open. A woman stood there, keeping a hold on the door, as if bracing to slam it shut and throw the lock.
He was quick to hold up his badge. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Birch.”
She relinquished her firm grip on the door, but her body language remained rigid. “Okay, what do you want?”
“Just to confirm, you are Trudy Hall?”
“Yes, that’s me.” She accompanied her words with a nod, as if that added further proof of her identity.
“I need to talk with you about your father, Tom Sparling.”
“He’s not exactly my father, but is he okay?” She flung the door open all the way. “I’ve tried reaching out to him, but it’s like he just disappeared from the face of the Earth.”
Eric got stuck on the first point. “I’m going to need you to back up here. What do you mean he’s notexactlyyour father?”
“Maybe you better come in.” She retreated into the entry and gestured for Eric to follow her. She shut the door behind them. “Tom was married to my birth mother, but she died eight months ago now. I only met them both about five years ago when I tracked her down.”
Trudy was thirty-five, so she would have been a full-fledged adult five years ago too. “Then you were placed for adoption?”
“That’s right. At birth. My mother was just a girl herself when she had me. And it might have been best if I’d left things as they were.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Tom didn’t know about me, and I’m pretty sure my turning up caused some upset in their lives. But I backed out and told them I wasn’t after anything from them. It was just about meeting the woman who gave birth to me. I’m just happy that I got to meet her before she passed. Before then, though, Tom and I had grown to be relatively close. What is it that brings you here about Tom?”
“Maybe we should find a place to sit for this conversation.” He phrased it like a suggestion, but it was his recommendation.
Trudy gestured toward a sitting room off the entry. “Make yourself comfortable wherever.” She dropped onto a gray chair, and he sat on the couch.
Eric told her the situation, after which Trudy didn’t respond, didn’t move, and didn’t blink for several seconds.
“Ms. Hall?” Eric prompted her.
“Yes, I heard you. I’m just assimilating it.”
“We believe that his wife’s death might have prompted his actions today. Is there anything you can tell me about him that might help us?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him in a few months.”
“Not long after Mable’s death then?”
“That’s right. I’ve tried calling him and leaving messages many times as recently as last month. That’s when I found out his number was out of service. So I went over to the house only to find out that he’d moved. To where, I don’t know. I suspect he must have gotten a new number too, but he’s never reached out to me.”
“Any idea why he’d cut you off?”
“Not really. Though, I know he was utterly heartbroken when his wife, my birth mother, died. For me, it’s been like I’ve lost Tom too, ya know?” Her voice turned gravelly.
“How did she die?”
“Tragic story, really. Mable went in for an undiagnosed illness. Her doctor at Founders convinced them she needed brain surgery. She died due to complications.”
“So Tom holds Founders responsible?”
