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Cliff lifted his chin toward the door. “Knock again.”
When Jenna tapped a little harder, the door edged open slightly.
The singing stopped for a moment and then started again.
“Nurse Grey,” Jenna called out through the gap. “It’s Jenna Jenkins, Brittany Berry’s sister. We’d like to talk to you.”
The singing stopped.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air slithered across Cliff’s skin.
He started to reach for the door handle, but Jenna’s hand caught his wrist before his fingers touched the knob.
She reached her hand beneath her jacket and pulled out her Glock.
Now, that chill snaked down Cliff’s spine.
“Nurse Grey, it’s Jenna Jenkins, FBI. I’m coming in for a wellness check.” She nudged the door open with her elbow and stood back as it swung inward and light spilled out onto the porch.
Cliff peered into the small entryway.
The singing started again, along with a creaking sound like that of a rocking chair.
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,” the voice sang in a voice that cracked with age.
Jenna stepped through the door, her handgun braced in both hands.
Cliff entered behind her, his own gun drawn and at the ready.
As they cleared the walls of the entryway, the living room stretched to their left with an overstuffed floral sofa and a rocking recliner with its back to them.
The recliner rocked, the springs creaking each time.
A gray tuft of hair stuck up over the back of the recliner.
Jenna entered the living room. “Nurse Grey?”
The gray-haired person in the rocking recliner continued singing. “Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”
Cliff walked around the recliner to find an old woman holding what appeared to be a baby blanket in her arms.
“If that mockingbird won’t sing,” the woman sang, her voice cracking.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Cliff said. “Is Nurse Grey here?”
The old woman stopped singing and stared up at Cliff. “Are you here to fix the stove?”
Cliff smiled at the woman. “No, ma’am. I’m here to see your daughter.”
She blinked up at him. “My daughter?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your daughter,” Cliff said. “Do you know where she is?”
“She’s in the nursery, of course.” The old woman pushed her feet against the floor, setting the rocker in motion again, and sang, “I’m gonna buy you a diamond ring.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jenna’s voice sounded from another room. “Cliff.”
The urgency in her tone made Cliff hurry out of the living room and down a short hallway to a room two doors down.
