Free Sweet Hearts by Connie Shelton

the nursing home. Sam swung her legs
over the side of the bed and tested to see how her hip was going to feel with
her weight on it.
    Surprisingly, there was only a
little pain, like a toothache that had subsided to a small throb. She stood,
paused, then felt confident enough to walk. In the bathroom she pulled her
slacks down and looked at the hip in the mirror. No sign of a bruise, no
swelling. Amazing.
    She went back to the bedroom to
get out of her work clothes. In her soft robe and warm slippers she felt nearly
human again, deciding she should eat a little something. The fridge revealed
what she already knew; she hadn’t cooked a real meal at home in days, so there
wasn’t much in the way of leftovers. She made a peanut butter sandwich and
poured a glass of milk to go with it.
    Her backpack lay on the kitchen
table, reminding her that she’d intended to look through the investigator’s
file that Marla had given her. She took a big bite of the sandwich and dialed
Beau’s number. It rang several times before he picked up.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you were
hurt?” he demanded. “I was just on the line with Jennifer. She called to say
that I should go check on you. That you had a bad fall at the shop today.”
    Thanks, Jen. “Beau, I feel
fine. Yes, I fell, and yes, it hurt like crazy right at that moment. But
really, I had that little nap and I’m feeling almost a hundred percent.”
    “Are you sure? I mean, she really
made it sound like you could hardly walk.”
    Okay, Sam, this is the perfect
time to tell him about the box and its powers.
    “Should I come over there?” he
asked. “Is that why you called? You need some help?”
    “No, actually, I was calling to
discuss the Tito Fresques case.” She went on to tell him about the visit to
Marla and the folder of notes from the private investigator. “I haven’t had
time to read through his report yet, but I had an idea. About those greeting
cards Marla believed Tito sent. They were mailed from several different cities.
Maybe there’s a way to check on that. Or maybe fingerprints? Would that be
possible?”
    Her voice must have sounded
normal enough because Beau switched off the doting boyfriend voice and went
into professional mode.
    “Fingerprints on paper can be very
well preserved,” he said, “depending on whether the surface is shiny or rough,
whether the paper was exposed to heat . . . that kind of thing.”
    “Maybe the case could be reopened
with proof that he’s been in contact with his family?”
    “Darlin’, can I ask what is the
point of this? I mean, we know Tito Fresques is not in Taos, probably not in
Albuquerque. It’s likely that he really sent the cards. But knowing that
doesn’t disprove the original idea that he left his family voluntarily.”
    She thought about that for a
minute. “I suppose you’re right. I just wanted something concrete to tell
Marla.”
    “She already believes Tito is
alive and well somewhere, and thinking of his family. Nothing we do will change
that.”
    Darn it, he made a lot of sense.
    “I’ll take another look and might
be able to reopen the case, but don’t expect any huge breakthrough because of
it.”
    She sighed. “Okay.” She almost
hung up but something stopped her. “You know, something just crossed my mind .
. . Assuming Tito were living a normal life somewhere, he can’t be doing it
under his real name. If he got a job using his own Social Security number the
employer would have to be withholding child support and that money would be
going to Marla and his daughter.”
    He thought about it for a few
seconds. “Not unless the court ordered it. Court ordered child support is
treated that way, but since he was never divorced or legally separated, I don’t
think . . . Well, I’m not sure. It might be an angle to pursue, but surely
Marla would have mentioned to you if she’d tried to get money to support the
child, wouldn’t she?”
    That was probably true, but the
whole thing was