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bubble with her own cynical version of the truth. And ironically, their polar opposite points of view had been carved by the same tragic event.
    She tossed her purse on the table, knocking a crucifix out of its base. “Damn,” she swore under her breath as the sharpened end of the crucifix designed to set into the base came precious inches from her exposed toes in her well-worn sandals.
    “ Who’s there?” a panicked voice came from the other room.
    “ It’s just me, Ma,” Adele called back as she scrambled to replace the statue.
    Brenda came into the room just as Adele straightened. “Hello, just you.” The two women hugged. “You’re just in time. I made your favorite.”
    Adele just smiled. “Ma. You always make my favorite.”
    She followed Brenda into the dining room where the table was set for two, and collapsed gratefully into the cushioned seat. Brenda wore her concern on her face as she brought the final dish to the table.
    “ You look tired. When was the last time you slept through the night?”
    Adele smirked. “What day is it?”
    Brenda didn’t smile as she took her seat. “Adele.”
    “ Sorry, Ma.”
    B renda glanced over her daughter’s haggard expression. “How many have there been?” She knew she didn’t need to elaborate. If she knew her daughter, Adele’s mind probably rarely ventured far from the topic. A child killer. What could be worse?
    Brenda shuddered. Only she knew.
    “Four,” Adele answered the question, her tone flat. “Same method, same location, same type of victim.”
    “ You think it’s a serial killer?”
    Adele shrugged. “Roman’s being tight-assed,” she shot her mother a glance, “I mean, tight-lipped, as usual.”
    Brenda sighed as she spread the napkin in her lap and reached for a serving dish. “Can’t blame him, I guess. Probably wants to avoid any copycat killers.”
    “ You watch too much TV, Ma,” Adele grinned. Brenda broke down and smiled back. Adele leaned forward on her elbows. “Something has to give soon. Otherwise how many other parents are going to lose their children?”
    “ You sound like you’re on another mission.”
    Adele shrugged again.
    Brenda laid her hand over Adele’s. “You can’t save the world, honey.”
    Adele’s eyes met the dark eyes of her mother. “But I can make my life count for something.”
    A moment stretched between them as Brenda pulled back her hand. “Is that what this is about, then?”
    “ It’s what everything is about,” mumbled Adele, and at once Adele was sorry for the words. Brenda’s pain was palpable in the room. Adele bolted from her chair to kneel at her mother’s feet. “Ma, I’m sorry. It’s just – it’s just that… I need to do this.”
    Brenda nodded, wiped her sadness away as best she could and patted her daughter’s hand. “I know, hon. I know.” She straightened her shoulders and smiled bright for Adele. “Let’s eat. It’s getting cold.”
     
    A bit after dusk Brian and Adele made their way up the stone steps of the Grand Hotel Royale. It was originally built as a castle in 1890, so it looked out of place in the modern skyline of downtown Darlington. The spires dramatically pierced into the darkening indigo sky while ugly gargoyles kept watch on the cobblestone streets below. This unmistakable character made it a major tourist draw to the small town, offering the only five-star accommodations in the area. It was where all the notable people stayed when they visited Darlington.
    Adele was no stranger to the place, as she had interviewed many a politician or celebrity there. It was one of her favorite places to be, its comfortable decadence and regal luxury felt warm and familiar. She had often teased Michael that she must have been a royal in a former life, and her lifelong friend dubbed her Princess Prancypants as a result.
    It always made her smile when she walked through the ornate lobby. She met the concierge with the same contented grin. “Hi, Max.”
    The