“You’re far better off over there away from the germ pit. I sent Shelby home to get her out of here.”

“Probably for the best in her condition.”

“So I caught an interesting new case today. Or a potential case.”

“How’s that possible when you’re suspended?”

Sam filled him in on Josh Hamilton’s story and his connection to Director Hamilton.

Skip’s low whistle came through the phone loud and clear. “Are you shitting me?”

“Would I shit you, Skippy?”

“Holy... Sam, you gotta be so careful here—you know that, right?”

“Yes, Dad, I know that.”

“What’s your plan?”

“First step was getting the DNA. Next I’m going to call Williamson County and give them a heads-up that we have a guy who closely resembles the composite. We’ll go from there.”

“God, those poor people. Thirty years wondering where their kid is.”

“I know. It’s unimaginable. You think it’s possible Director Hamilton could’ve been part of something like this?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I only know what I’ve read about him, but he has a good reputation in law enforcement circles, as you know.”

“Yeah, Avery thinks the world of him.”

“I can’t even begin to get my head around the implications of what this guy is saying.”

“Neither can I. But the picture... The resemblance is uncanny.”

“There’s a whole lot of speculation involved in the production of those age-progression photos. Just remember that.”

“I’m operating on the presumption that Josh Hamilton is not Taylor Rollings until I have proof otherwise.”

“Good plan, but you also need a plan for what you’re going to do if he is Taylor Rollings.”

“What would you do with that info?”

“I’d go directly to Farnsworth. Don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Don’t do anything but go right to him.”

“Right. I agree. That’s what I’ll do.”

“This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit in my life.”

“I know—me too. Well, I’d better go make that call to Tennessee.”

“Keep me posted, baby girl, and be careful not to get yourself into another pot of hot water with the department over this.”

“I do so love a good hot bath.”

“Sam.”

“Yes, sir. I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

“Let me know how Nick and Scotty are later.”

“You got it. See ya, Skippy.”

“Bye, baby.”

Before she made the phone call to Tennessee, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty, resting her hand on his forehead, which was still burning hot.

He opened his eyes. “Hey.”

“How’re you feeling, honey?”

His eyes went wide all of a sudden, and Sam wondered if he was going to be sick again. “What is it?”

“I, um, that’s what my mom—my first mom—used to call me.”