“Sounds like it,” agreed Brody.

“The priest,” said Ray. “The little priest.”

Brody and Mason stared at him.

“That’s what Abbadelli means. Hey, Jillian’s grandfather was Italian. Don’t look at me like that.” He frowned and took a sip of his coffee.

“And Cesare is a form of Caesar, right?” added Mason. “That’s a powerful name. Priest and Caesar all rolled into one. This guy still alive?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Mason was surprised to hear the reporter say those words. And he didn’t look frustrated or embarrassed. Lesser men would have talked around it or bluffed their way through the question. His estimation went up a notch.

Ray was making careful notes on his pad. “I’ll look into it, too.”

“I haven’t told you the fun part.” Brody grinned.

Ray’s head lifted. “What?”

“Victoria got an anonymous note this morning with the name of a woman the sender claimed was her birth mother.”

Mason stared at the reporter, wondering if he was pulling his leg.

“Seriously?” asked Ray.

“Yep. Seth called me, asking me to check out the name and address. I gotta say, from what I could see on the driver’s license, the woman could be related. And she had a previous address in Seaport. One we were just talking about.”

Mason’s brain couldn’t keep up. “That address for that church? The woman lived at the church?”

“Who knows? But she was out there close to the time when Victoria was born,” answered Brody.

“But why?” asked Ray. “Why tell Victoria in an anonymous note? What’s the motive to do that?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. Victoria and Seth were going to take a drive out to this woman’s Portland address this morning. I haven’t heard how it went.”

“That’s crazy. Why did someone contact her out of the blue like that?” Mason asked.

“Maybe I stirred something up with my questions.” Brody frowned. “I don’t see what I could have done, but the timing is pretty coincidental.”

“You find the father yet?” asked Ray.

“Next on my list,” replied Brody. “I’m waiting for a phone call any minute.”

Mason stood and picked up his cowboy hat from the chair next to him. He held his hand out to Brody. “You gonna go dig under some more rocks?”

Brody rose to his feet, shaking Mason’s hand. “My favorite pastime.”

Mason’s phone rang. “Callahan.”

“Detective Callahan, this is Katy Morris. Trinity Viders’s foster mom.”

Surprise shot through Mason. “Yes, Ms. Morris, I’ve left you a few messages, we’d like to talk with Trinity—”

“This is about Trinity. She left early this morning and I can’t reach her. Her cell phone is off.”

“Now, Ms. Morris—” Mason started.

“I know, detective,” Katy said shortly. “It hasn’t been long. But this isn’t like Trinity. She borrowed my car, saying she would only be a few hours, and now it’s late afternoon. After the shooting yesterday, my panic monitor is in high gear. Something is wrong.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“She said she had to pick up a friend who needed a ride. I didn’t pry.” Her voice cracked. “She’s a good kid, detective. She has boundaries and she sticks to them. Something must have happened.”

“You’ve called her friends?” Mason sympathized for the woman, but there wasn’t a heck of a lot he could legally do at the moment.

“Yes. All of them. No one has heard from her.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Give me your plate number and a description of your car.” He scribbled on a table napkin as Katy spoke. Ray turned it to read it, already dialing his cell phone to get the word out. “What about a boyfriend? She seeing anybody? Did you call him?”

There was a short pause. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” said Katy.

She didn’t sound convinced.

“Maybe you better give her girlfriends another call and press harder about the boy issue. I could see them trying to cover for her if you’re not supposed to know about a boy.”

Ray nodded emphatically. The guru of female teen behavior.

Mason ended the call. The woman’s worry had triggered acid to irritate his stomach. He treated it with a last sip of cold Starbucks coffee. His burn intensified.

“I don’t like this,” Brody stated. He’d listened to Mason’s side of the conversation with his feet spread apart and his arms across his chest. His scowl had intensified with every second. “That girl seemed responsible to me.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “Big words from a man without kids. We’re talking about teenage girls. There are no rules.”

His ear to his phone, Ray nodded again, pointing at Mason, agreeing.

“Either way,” said Mason. “I’ve added Trinity Viders to my list for the day. I want to know where she is.”

“Turn here,” Jason stated, squinting through the windshield. He pointed to her left.

Trinity slowed the car, looking for a turnoff, her nose nearly touching the top of the steering wheel. Their current road had steadily deteriorated. It was more gravel than blacktop. Hell, it was more mud than blacktop. She didn’t know if they’d officially passed out of the state forest, but it didn’t matter. The skyscraping firs still blocked the sky.