Slade’s cell phone rang just as he was reaching into his pocket. “Sorry,” he said quickly as Sister Georgia’s lips tightened. “Excuse me,” he said quickly, and made his way out of the office. Val heard him say, “Hello? Oh, damn. Which horse? . . . Look, I’m still in New Orleans. Call the vet . . .” And then his voice faded, cut off by the door as it closed behind him.

“How are you dealing with your loss?” the reverend mother asked, her composure once again intact. Concern etched her features. “It’s difficult. I know.”

“Yes,” Val said, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about grief or pain or funeral arrangements. She’d come here for answers, and though this mother superior was a warmer, kinder person, she was as much of a road block as Sister Charity. She toned it down a notch, calmed herself, and said, “I really would like my birth records, and I would like to speak with the people Camille worked with, anyone who might have some idea of what happened to her.”

“Isn’t that what the police are doing?”

“Of course, but . . .” Val’s hands clenched and opened as she tried another tack to get through to the woman. “Sister Georgia, do you have any siblings?” Val asked, tired of being stonewalled.

Sister Georgia nodded. “Five, actually.”

“And what would you do if one—the baby?”

“My brother Patrick.”

“What if Patrick was murdered in cold blood? Wouldn’t you try to do anything in your power to bring his killer to justice?”

Georgia’s lips turned into a wan, patient smile. “I understand your need to do something, to find answers, to seek retribution, but sometimes it’s best to make your own peace, through God’s counsel.” Sister Georgia reached across the desk and took Val’s hand. “Sometimes that’s the only way we find answers. I would try my best to trust in God’s wisdom.”

Val drew her hand away; she was tired of the placating, the sincere, helpful words meant to appease her rather than offer any real answers.

“I’m not asking for much.” She held the older nun’s gaze and tried like hell not to cry or scream or rail to the heavens in frustration; instead she managed to keep her cool, the same calm she’d used when she’d been a detective in Texas. “This is a personal tragedy for not only me, but for the church as well. I’m only looking for answers, trying to understand my sister’s death. I’m not trying to get in the way of the police or in any manner thwart the authority of the church.”