He was looking at a computer-aged Marie Bellson. Rationally, he knew Marie’s mom was in a rest home, but this woman—this woman who had to be in her late fifties—was Marie’s older clone. Both had long faces with webbing at the corners of the eyes and mouth. Both had wavy lines across the forehead, only this woman’s lines were scored deeper. She was built like Marie—long and lean. Only the eyes were different from Marie’s. The nurse’s were bright green dotted with brown; this woman’s eyes were hazel but muddied like silted water.

Who was this woman? Was she related to Marie?

The harried woman held a babe in arms who was beet red and had dark, feathery hair. The infant was screaming as the woman rocked her vigorously. She looked at Decker, then smoothed the white terry robe she wore.

“I know why you’re here,” she declared. “And I intend to fight this on whatever grounds I have available to me. Typical bureaucracy!” She held the infant over her shoulder and patted her back. “The baby is our flesh and blood. The county has no right to put her up for adoption when she has living relatives. I don’t care what Tandy’s last wishes were.”

Decker closed his mouth. “Can we come in…is it Mrs. Robles?”

“Henrietta,” the woman stated. “Hetty for short, and it’s definitely Roberts. I never changed it back to Robles. Just because he went through a midlife identity crisis doesn’t mean I have to.”

“You’re Tandy’s mother?” Marge asked.

The woman narrowed her murky eyes. “Let me see your papers again.”

“Can we come in?” Decker asked. “Unless you want to conduct an interview so all your neighbors can hear.”

Hetty paused a moment, then stepped aside.

The apartment was furnished simply. A couch, a couple of side chairs, and a coffee table holding art and interior-design magazines. The walls were covered with bookshelves that contained reading matter as well as small abstract sculptures and figurines. Resting against the back wall were a small crib and a stack of unopened paper diapers.

“Please try to keep it quiet,” Hetty stated. “His Majesty is sleeping, and I’d like to keep it that way. Between the two of them, I barely manage any rest. But I’ll survive. I’ve certainly survived worse.”

“May I see the baby?” Decker said.

“I am not going to relinquish the child without proper authority!”

“Agreed. Right now, I’d just like to see her face.”

Reluctantly, Hetty permitted Decker a peek of the infant’s face. He pulled out the hospital’s infant picture of Caitlin Rodriguez. He looked at it a moment, then his eyes went back to the baby.