"Always stayed in the U.S."

"You have an army accent," Faith noted, which Will gathered meant he had no accent at all.

Henry's reticence seemed to slowly melt away under Faith's attention. "You go where they tell you to go."

"That's exactly what my brother said when he shipped overseas." Faith leaned forward. "If you want the truth, I think he likes moving around all the time, never putting down roots."

Henry started to open up some more. "Married?"

"Nope."

"Lady in every port?"

"Lord, I hope not." Faith laughed. "As far as my mother's concerned, it was the Air Force or the priesthood."

Henry chuckled. "Most mothers feel that way about their sons." He squeezed his wife's hand, and Judith beamed proudly at Tom.

Faith turned her attention to the son. "You said you're an air traffic controller?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, though Tom was probably younger than Faith.

Tom told them, "I work out of Charlie Brown." He meant the general aviation airport just west of Atlanta. "Been there about ten years. It's a nice gig. Sometimes we handle Dobbins traffic overnight." Dobbins was an Air Force base just outside the city. "I bet your brother's flown out of there before."

"I bet he has," Faith agreed, keeping eye contact with the man just long enough to make him feel flattered. "You live out in Conyers now?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tom smiled openly, his buckteeth jutting out like tusks on an elephant. He was more relaxed now, talkative. "I moved to Atlanta when I left Keesler." He nodded toward his mother. "I was real happy when my parents decided to move down here."

"They're on Clairmont Road, right?"

Tom nodded, still smiling. "Close enough to visit without having to pack a suitcase."

Judith didn't seem to like the easy rapport that was developing between the two. She quickly inserted herself back into the conversation. "Tom's wife loves her flower garden." She started to rummage around in her purse. "Mark, his son, is obsessed with aviation. Every day, he looks more and more like his father."

"Mom, they don't need to see—"

He was too late. Judith pulled out a photograph and handed it to Faith, who made the proper appreciative noises before passing it to Will.

He kept his expression neutral as he looked at the family photo. The Coldfield genes were certainly strong. The girl and boy in the picture were carbon copies of their father. Making matters worse, Tom had not found himself an attractive wife to dilute the Coldfield gene pool. She had stringy-looking blonde hair and a resigned set to her mouth that seemed to indicate this was as good as it would ever get.

"Darla," Judith supplied, naming the wife. "They've been married for almost ten years. Isn't that right, Tom?"

He shrugged in that embarrassed way children shrug at their parents.

"Very nice," Will said, handing the picture back to Judith.

Judith asked Faith, "Do you have children?"

"A son." Faith didn't offer any more information. Instead she asked Judith, "Is Tom an only child?"

"That's right." Judith smiled again, covering her mouth. "Henry and I didn't think we'd be able to . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she just stared at Tom with obvious pride. "He was a miracle."

Again, Tom shrugged, obviously embarrassed.

Faith subtly shifted the topic onto the reason they were all here. "And you were visiting Tom and his family the day of the accident?"

Judith nodded. "He wanted to do something nice for our fortieth anniversary. Didn't you, Tom?" Her voice took on a distant quality. "Such a horrible thing to happen. I don't think another anniversary will go by without remembering . . ."

Tom spoke. "I don't understand how this could happen. How could that woman—" He shook his head. "It makes no sense. Who the hell would do something like that?"

"Tom," Judith shushed. "Language."

Faith gave Will a glance that indicated she was using every ounce of willpower in her body not to roll her eyes. She recovered quickly, directing her words toward the elderly couple. "I know you've already told Detective Galloway everything, but let's start fresh from the beginning. You were driving down the road, you saw the woman, and then—?"

"Well," Judith began. "At first I thought it might be a deer. We've seen deer on the side of the road many times. Henry always goes slow if it's dark in case one darts out."

"They see the lights and it just freezes them," Henry explained, as if a deer caught in headlights was an obscure phenomenon.

"It wasn't dark," Judith continued. "It was dusk, I suppose. And I saw this thing in the road. I opened my mouth to tell Henry, but it was too late. We had already hit it. Her." She took out a tissue from her purse and pressed it to her eyes. "Those nice men tried to help her, but I don't think—surely, after all that . . ."

Henry took his wife's hand again. "Has she . . . is the woman . . . ?"

"She's still in the hospital," Faith provided. "They're not sure if she'll ever regain consciousness."

"My Lord," Judith breathed, almost a prayer. "I hope she doesn't."

"Mother—" Tom's voice rose in surprise.

"I know that sounds mean, but I hope she never knows."

The family went quiet. Tom looked at his father. Henry's throat worked, and Will could tell the man was starting to get overwhelmed by his memories. "Thought I was having a heart attack," he managed around a harsh laugh.

Judith lowered her voice, confiding as if her husband were not right beside her, "Henry has heart issues."

"Nothing bad," he countered. "Stupid air bag hit me square in the chest. Safety device, they call it. Damn thing almost killed me."

Faith asked, "Mr. Coldfield, did you see the woman on the road?"

Henry nodded. "It's what Judith said. It was too late to stop. I wasn't speeding. I was going the posted limit. I saw something— thought it was a deer, like she said. Jammed my foot on the brake. She just appeared out of nowhere. Right out of nowhere. I still didn't think it was a woman until we got out of the car and saw her there. Awful. Just awful."

"Have you always worn glasses?" Will broached the subject carefully.

"I'm an amateur pilot. Get my eyes checked twice a year." He took off the glasses, his feathers ruffled but his tone steady. "I may be old, but I'm flight ready. No cataracts, corrected to twenty-twenty."

Will decided he might as well get it all out of the way. "And your heart?"

Judith intervened. "It's nothing really. Just something to keep an eye on, make sure he's not straining himself too much."

Henry took over, still indignant. "Nothing that concerns the doctors. I take some horse pills. I don't do any heavy lifting. I'm fine."

Faith tried to soothe him, changing the subject. "An Army brat flying airplanes?"

Henry seemed to be debating whether or not to let the topic of his health go. Finally, he answered, "My dad got me lessons when I was a kid. We were stationed up in Nowhere, Alaska. He thought it was a good way to keep me out of trouble."