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As much as Dupree loved the park, it served as a poignant reminder of her solitary life. Aside from her newfound relationship with Leona Crawford, she had no family, few friends, and the focal point of her existence was her career. She had no idea where she’d be in five years, nor did she anticipate that any factors might change her situation.

There was also another issue that troubled Dupree. Whenever she closed a case, she felt an immediate rush of adrenalin, an inexplicable feeling of accomplishment. But like a drug, the euphoria wore off quickly, and then she’d crash, needing another “fix.” In fact, after closing an investigation, she would often feel terrified that she’d never solve another murder case again. She’d never really spoken to anyone about this phenomenon, but maybe it was time for her to lie on a leather sofa and bare her soul.

Dupree could now see the fountain; its perimeter, a circular bench around the water, accommodating dozens of people resting their feet, sipping sodas, eating ice cream cones, and munching popcorn. Several wooden benches were positioned across from the fountain. On one particular bench, she spotted T.J.

He wasn’t alone.

A woman Dupree didn’t recognize was sitting next to T.J. As she moved closer, she could see them talking, laughing, and sitting unusually close to each other. The young woman had long, wavy auburn hair, and from that distance, she looked very attractive. Approaching them slowly—Dupree didn’t think that T.J. had noticed her yet—she could see that the woman was very young. Early twenties. Maybe even younger.

As Dupree moved closer, she could see T.J. pointing at her and he whispered something in the young woman’s ear. The woman fixed her eyes on Dupree and watched her walking toward the bench.

T.J. looked at his watch. “Right on time.” He moved closer to Dupree and gave her a quick hug. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

The young woman stood and smiled. Now close enough to get a good look at her, Dupree thought that she was as attractive as a Glamour Magazine cover girl. She felt a twinge of envy.

“Amaris Dupree,” T.J. said. “Meet Ashley Martin.”

She offered her hand to Ashley and the young woman firmly grasped it. Still holding Ashley’s hand, Dupree carefully studied her face and saw something familiar in her eyes. Images of Dupree’s mother flashed through her mind. Her cheeks blushed red. Could it be?

“T.J. has told me a lot about you,” Ashley said, her voice a little shaky.

Like three mannequins, they stood motionless, staring at each other as if lost for words.

Ashley moved closer to Dupree. “Um, I don’t know quite how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. I’m…”

“My daughter?”

Dupree could feel her hands trembling and her heart flutter in her chest; it felt as if a giant butterfly was trapped in her lung. Her knees nearly gave out. She studied Ashley’s eyes again and could now see the resemblance. She had her grandmother’s high cheekbones and wide set eyes. Dupree looked at T.J. and then at Ashley, her eyes cloudy with tears.

“I need to sit down,” Dupree said, her voice unsteady and barely audible. Tears were now running down her cheeks. She tried to suppress the sobbing but had no control over her feelings. “This can’t… be happening,” she whispered.

Ashley nestled beside her and draped her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

“How did you find me?” Dupree asked Ashley.

“T.J. found me.”

Dupree looked at T.J. and swallowed hard. “How did you do this?”

T.J. cocked his head to one side. “Let’s just say that I know people who know people. And when you have the right contacts, you can find almost anyone—even Osama bin Laden.”

Wobbly-legged, Dupree carefully stood up and wrapped her arms around T.J. and gave him a bear hug for what seemed like an eternity. She kissed him on the cheek. “I just don’t know what to say, T.J. I… I—”

“You two have a lot of catching up to do. Call me later and we’ll talk.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, Ashley,” T.J. said. “I hope to see you again.”

The two women watched T.J. walk away.

“He’s quite a guy,” Ashley said.

“That he is.”

As cliché as it seemed, Dupree literally had to pinch herself to be sure this wasn’t a dream. All these years. All the pain and emptiness and tears. And here she was. Her daughter. Standing only inches away from her.

Dupree grasped Ashley’s hand and squeezed it. “I want to know everything about you.”

They engaged in small talk for a few minutes but neither asked the obvious, most compelling questions. Dupree was still reeling.

After a long searching look, Ashley asked, “Why did you give me up for adoption?”

The question pierced Dupree’s conscience like a dagger. “Because I was a self-destructive, stupid kid. I had no business being a mother and I wanted you to have a good life.”

“How come you never tried to find me all these years? Didn’t you want to have some kind of relationship with your flesh and blood daughter? I mean, weren’t you curious about me, who I was?”

“You have no idea how many times I desperately tried to find you.” Dupree explained the confidentiality clause in the adoption agreement. “I even hired three private detectives, but all of my attempts to locate you failed.” Dupree had her own questions but wanted to tread lightly. “When did you find out that you were adopted?”

“My parents… well, I mean step-parents actually, told me on my fifth birthday. They believed it would have less of an impact if I found out at a young age.”

“Did you ever ask your parents to search for me?”

“No.” Ashley’s face tightened. “I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me, so I never made an attempt to contact you.”

Both Dupree and Ashley studied each other’s eyes.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“They’re really wonderful people. They’ve always been supportive of me and have always treated me like their own daughter.”

Dupree was delighted to hear that. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she would have been as good a parent. The mere thought of it, choked her up again. “So, Ashley, where do you live?

“In Thousand Oaks, a suburb of Los Angeles.”

“About how far is it from San Diego?”

“If the freeway traffic is moving, which isn’t very often, it’s about a ninety-minute ride.”

“What are you doing right now? In college? Working?”

“Freshman year at UCLA.”

“That’s fantastic! What course of study?”

“Earth and Environmental Science.”

“So, what kind of career are you looking for?”

“Not sure yet.” Ashley pointed to the lush greenery around them. “I’ll probably become a tree-hugger.”

After another twenty minutes of small talk, Dupree looked at her watch. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Yotel in Times Square. I know. The name is strange but it’s a really nice place.”

“I never heard of it, but New York has thousands of hotels. How long are you going to be in New York?”

“I leave midday on Monday. I wanted to stay longer, but orientation begins next Wednesday.”

Dupree had experienced her share of emotional pain throughout her life. But the mere thought of her daughter leaving on Monday was more than she could bear.