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“He’ll chalk it up to parental sacrifice. As far as I’m concerned, by the time all is said and done, he’ll be happy if he ever sniffs freedom again.”
“I love it, except it’s likely that Patton will need to approve your request to see him.”
“That’s why I’m taking this to Elwood.” She called her boss.
“What the latest?” Elwood answered.
“We’re getting some momentum, but I need your help.” She ran through where things were, and that she needed clearance to speak with Darrell Patton, and her thoughts on offering up immunity.
“Leave it with me. I’ll get it cleared past the prison warden. It’s Saturday, though, so it might take a bit to track him down.”
“Time isn’t on our side.”
“I realize that and will get on it the second I get off the phone with you. I’ll call once it’s a done deal.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” With that, the assistant director was gone.
Sandra turned to Brice. “That’s in the works, but it could take hours. I’m not just going to sit on my hands and wait.”
“It might be a good time to catch some more sleep.”
She looked at him, his statement striking her as serious, but found he was smiling. “Just get us to Darrell’s mother’s house.”
“For that I need to know where to find her…” Brice punched into the onboard computer system. A moment later he confirmed, “Regina Patton’s living in Woodbridge these days. Buckle up.”
Sandra did, but the phrase took on so much more meaning. So much uncertainty lay ahead with nothing to be taken for granted. There was no guarantee of safety or a happy outcome. They were venturing into the unknown. All she had on her side was hope and a prayer. And solid instinct. Yes, she had that.
THIRTY-FOUR
The forty-five-minute drive from Washington to Woodbridge gave Sandra time to think. The approach that she and Brice had laid out should work on Patton. It was theshouldpart that curdled in her gut. But she’d never been one to harbor a defeatist attitude, and she wasn’t about to start now. Patton had been willing to risk his freedom by snatching his daughter, and Natalie said that he made efforts to connect with her. That was before she got married, but Sandra expected he’d still have a soft spot for Natalie that she could exploit.
Regina Patton had never remarried after her husband died of a heart attack several years ago. The address on file for her led them to a well-maintained trailer park. Empty flowerpots were stacked in the corner of the front garden near the walkway, but otherwise the place looked taken care of from the outside.
Sandra knocked, and a woman swung the door open rather abruptly, as if she’d been sitting right on the other side. The smell of stale beer and body odor wafted from the trailer.
“Whatcha want?” She hadn’t aged well, but that’s what rough living did to a person. She was also in her late seventies. Crow’s feet clawed out from her eyes like sunbursts, and her forehead was rows of wrinkles.
“Ms. Patton,” Sandra began, holding up her badge.
“Wait a minute, I know you. You’re that…thatgirl whose brother died.”
Sandra’s hackles rose at how she put that. It was stated as if something accidental had claimed Sam’s life and not the actions of this woman’s son. “My brother was murdered during the standoff between your son, Darrell, and police.”
“Yes. I knew you looked familiar.” The woman’s gaze lingered on Sandra for several more seconds before it transferred to Brice. “And who are you?”
“Special Agent Sutton.”
She leveled her gaze at Sandra. “You’re FBI now too?”
She tucked her badge away. To answer that would be redundant. “We need to talk to you about Darrell.”
“What about him? He’s behind bars and will be there longer. Thanks to you.” The woman smacked her gums, ill-fitted dentures snapping as they released from the roof of her mouth in the process.
I never saw you at the parole hearing speaking up for him…
“Then you’re still in touch?” Brice wedged in. If he hadn’t, Sandra might have lost her temper. Her insides were quaking with rage at how this woman made her out to be the villain instead of looking at her own son.