Melina folded her arms, cultivating a bored, disinterested look. Cops needed to know when to shut up and listen. Allow the silence to coax free the truth. Her heartbeat ramped up as a fine sheen of sweat formed at the base of her spine.

Bonnie traced her index finger in small circles on the stainless steel table. “When you were little, your eyes were as big as saucers and you cried all the time.”

Melina remained still. Bonnie was playing her. She had to be because if she was not and she was telling the truth, then the lid on her entire past was about to blow wide open.

Bonnie grinned almost as if she were recalling a memory. “You were a clingy little thing, too. Fussy eater.”

Melina calculated their age difference. “How did we meet?”

“I was married to your granddaddy, baby. Howard and I had been hitched for about six months when we got a call that his daughter, Lizzie, had overdosed. She was your mama, child.”

Melina swallowed. Something in Bonnie’s words resonated with truth. “Lizzie?”

“That’s right. Lizzie was in her late twenties when you were born. That was all before my time. According to Howard, she was always a troubled kid, and then she hooked up with a guy that was dealing drugs. Fast-forward a few years and she had dropped two kids and was shooting heroin.”

The name Lizzie rang a distant bell in her memory. “What was Lizzie’s last name?”

“Guthrie, baby. She never married. You were born Melina Guthrie.”

Melina felt light headed. All her life she had wondered where she’d come from, and now the answers were coming at her faster than she could process them.

Two children. She had a sibling. There was another someone out there like her? “You said she gave birth to two kids?”

“You have an older brother. His name is Dean Guthrie, and if I had to guess, he’s your half brother. Lizzie never stayed with any one man long.”

“Does Dean go by the name Sonny now?” The pieces of her past nudged closer together, and she struggled to hide her hopes and fears.

“No. Sonny is my nickname for him.”

Melina remained silent as she processed. Her half brother was in Nashville, and there was a good chance he was a killer. Her mouth felt dry. “Is Dean using his real name?”

Bonnie grinned. “No, and I have no idea what name he’s using now. I just call him Sonny. But none of that is important to this story.”

“I’d say the name of my half brother is very important.” Melina tapped an index finger on her thigh, careful to keep the twitch hidden from Bonnie. “According to your police record you’re quite the con.”

“Oh, I’m the best,” she said, smiling. “But cons don’t always lie. At least the good ones don’t.”

“Okay. I’ll bite. How did I end up staying with you?”

“Your mama overdosed when you were five, and Howard was not too keen on taking in a couple of kids.” Bonnie did not take her gaze off Melina. “But I’ve always had a soft spot for children. I could never have any of my own and taking the little ones under my wing fills a part of my soul.”

“You took Sonny and me.”

“That’s right.”

“Howard and you didn’t live happily ever after. Otherwise I’d not have ended up in Nashville.” She stopped short of mentioning she had been abandoned. Melina could not know for sure yet how much of her story was bullshit.

“We were a nice little family for a few months. But Howard had a bad ticker. He dropped like a stone one day, and it was just Sonny, you, and me.”

“How’d you get to Nashville?” Melina asked.

“We were headed east. I had friends in Virginia.” Bonnie laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “One thing I’ve never been able to figure out.”

“What’s that?”

“We stopped on the side of Route 25. It was the middle of nowhere. In fact, the next stop was a few miles east. I got out to pee, and when I came back to the car, you were gone. I searched for hours. Who found you?”

Images of a darkened road edged to the front of her mind. She imagined the bright stars in the sky, the gravel cutting into her slippers, and the hoot of an owl. Raw terror had stolen the wind from her lungs, and she could not bring herself to scream. She countered Bonnie’s question with, “You’re saying you didn’t leave me?”

“I’ll admit you were screaming like hell and would not stop. That’s part of the reason I pulled over. Hard to reason with a little girl when you’re standing in the way of what she wants. I never had much luck winning over those of the female persuasion. Men I can handle, but not women.”

“You abandoned me because I was crying.”

“No. That would be criminal. I came back to the car and you were gone.” Bonnie shook her head. “But to this day, I still don’t know how you were found. I asked Sonny, but he said he never knew.”

Bonnie was lying. The woman had abandoned her on the side of the road. And because she had not mentioned a call to the police from the diner pay phone, Melina realized the only other person who would have known she’d been dumped would have been the brother—Sonny, or Dean, or whatever name he was using now.

“I’m sorry I lost track of you. I was so tired, but that’s no real excuse. I should have been more careful.”

“And just like that you kept on driving.”

“Good Lord, no. I drove around looking for you. I was coming up on the spot where I left you when I saw the flash of the cop’s car. I knew you were in safe hands and thought you’d be better off if you weren’t living on the road.”

Blood rushed to Melina’s temples, and her heartbeat nearly drowned out her own voice. “What about my brother? Did you desert him, too?”

“We stuck together for a long time. Like I said, I can handle men.”

A memory, like a snippet of film, suddenly flashed. A little boy handed her half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I made it with extra jelly,” he said softly.

Melina shifted in her seat.

“I know I failed you both in different ways and taking care of Elena reminded me of my mistakes. But when I saw that picture of you in the paper and read the story about you finding those poor children locked in the trunk of a car, I knew I had to come see you. I knew if I found you, Sonny would be close. He always looked out for you. I was hoping we all could make amends.”

She remembered the cigarette butts clustered by her car. They’d all been tipped in pink lipstick. Bonnie had been watching her apartment for a couple of days. “You sound sure of Sonny.”

“I know Sonny better than anyone.”

A part of her wanted to believe Bonnie, and another part prayed she was lying. “No one has ever identified himself to me as my brother.”

Bonnie looked oddly satisfied with her new captive audience. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He knows himself well enough to realize you would be safer if he kept his distance.”

She thought about the fingers in a pickle jar. If Sonny had been the one who had collected them, then her half brother was a serial killer.

Melina made a note to do a search on Dean Guthrie, who she guessed was in his midthirties. Whether or not Dean or Sonny was family, he was likely a killer. “What name does he use now?”

Bonnie shook her head and the grin returned. “You asked me that before. But I can’t give away all my secrets, baby. I have to keep some of my cards close to the vest until we can make a deal.”

“If I start digging, I’ll find out if you’re lying to me.”

“Oh, I’m not lying. You’ll find birth certificates for you and Sonny. Consider this the first of many meetings, baby. Go on and check on Elena’s history, and find out what you can about Howard Guthrie. He would be seventy-six now if he had lived. And when you realize that I’m telling you the truth, then we’ll talk again.”

Frustration bubbled up in Melina. “Who put the pickle jar in the back of the car?”

“I don’t even like pickles.” Bonnie rose, walked to the door, and knocked. “Do your homework first and then we’ll visit again.” The door opened and Bonnie vanished into the back halls of the jail.

Melina sat back and closed her eyes. Her cheeks flushed with heat. Slowly she rose, grateful she could stand straight and at least appear pulled together.

Melina returned to the TBI offices and found Ramsey again camped out in the conference room. On the table next to his laptop was a collection of files in a neat row. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and was wearing a pair of tortoiseshell glasses.

She knocked on the open door. He looked up at her, and the swirl of emotions, chasing her since the jailhouse, slowed. “Nice little setup you have here,” she said.

He removed the glasses and carefully set them down beside his laptop. “I used to pride myself on being able to work anywhere. Back of car, hotel room, fast-food restaurant. But the last few years since I’ve been overseeing the team, I stay in Quantico mostly. It’s a challenge to concentrate without the creature comforts.”

From her perspective, he looked focused. “You seem to be adapting well.”

“Managing.” He studied her closely as he sat back in his chair. “How did it go with Bonnie?”