Eighth Grave After Dark by Darynda Jones

herself to hope after so many years. “You know what happened to Ryan?”
    That had been his name at birth: Ryan Alexander Loehr. The fact that he had the exact same middle name and that all three of his first names—his birth name, current name, and celestial name, Rey’aziel—started with an R had boggled my mind since I first learned of it.
    I looked over my shoulder toward the convent, the roof barely visible from my vantage. While no one had noticed my absence yet, it wouldn’t be much longer before they did. I turned back. Mr. Loehr. He had dark hair and brown eyes, which could explain away Reyes’s coloring, because he got none of his features from his birth parents. I could only assume he actually did look like Lucifer. He was certainly handsome enough. But I had to stave them off. Even for just a little while.
    â€œLet me start by saying I am married to the man I believe to be your son.”
    Mrs. Loehr covered her mouth with a small hand, her eyes glistening already.
    â€œIf you will go back to Albuquerque, I promise I will get in touch with you. This is something I’m going to have to break to Reyes slowly.”
    â€œReyes?” she said, her voice soft. “His name is Reyes?”
    I didn’t give his last name. I didn’t want them Googling their son and discovering anything before I had a chance to explain.
    â€œWill you please trust me and not call the FBI until I can tell my husband what I’ve done?”
    â€œYou wrote the letter,” Mr. Loehr said.
    â€œI did.” I placed my hands on my belly. “I wanted you to know that your son was alive and well. That he was beautiful and wonderful and the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Mrs. Loehr said. “Why didn’t he contact us? Why haven’t you told him you found us?”
    I closed my eyes and lowered my head. “He was violently against my contacting you.”
    My statement hurt her. I could feel a sharp pang pulse through her.
    â€œNot for the reasons you might think.”
    â€œThen why?” she asked.
    â€œBecause he feels he no longer deserves you.”
    â€œWhat?” Her face showed her astonishment.
    I took her hand in mine. “I’m not going to lie to you. He’s had a hard life. A very hard life.”
    She pressed her mouth together to keep from sobbing.
    â€œHe doesn’t want you to know what he’s gone through. He doesn’t want you to feel any more guilt than you already must.”
    She covered her mouth again as Mr. Loehr wrapped an arm over her shoulders.
    â€œPlease believe me, he is not going to be happy when he finds out I contacted you.”
    â€œWill you be okay?”
    â€œYes. He won’t do anything drastic. He might, I don’t know, storm out or something else guys like to do, but that’s about it. He dotes on me.”
    â€œCan we just—?” Mr. Loehr began, but his voice cracked with the weight of emotion roaring through him. It took my breath away.
    â€œCan we just see a picture of him?” Mrs. Loehr said.
    â€œOf course.” I brought up my photos on my cell, scrolled through until I found a shot that wasn’t of him half naked, and handed it to them.
    They gasped. Both of them.
    In the picture I’d chosen, he was wearing a nice button-down. It was casual but nice. Really, really, really nice. Hell, they all were.
    Mrs. Loehr touched the screen in disbelief. “He looks like your uncle Sal.”
    â€œHe looks more like my great-grandfather.”
    Maybe there really was a family resemblance. Once we got to the point where I could talk to them in public without risking my marriage, I’d insist on full access to the family albums.
    â€œHe’s beautiful,” she said, her voice forlorn.
    â€œThat’s what I keep telling him,” I said, completely serious.
    Mrs. Loehr smiled sadly. “When? When can we