“I’m a very private person. I don’t like people poking around in my personal life.”

“Just one question. Please. Is your mother’s name Winifred? Or anything similar?”

“My mother’s name is Vera.”

Sydney sagged. So he wasn’t the right one. “And your father? What’s his name?” she asked, just to be sure.

Russ’s expression became suddenly fierce. “I don’t have a father. My mother’s never been married.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so nosy, but do you at least know his name?”

He rubbed the tops of his thighs, looking out the window. She knew she’d made him very uncomfortable, but she had to be thorough.

“My mother slept with a lot of men,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. If Russ didn’t even know his father’s name, it was doubtful the father even knew of his existence. Damn, she’d been so sure she was on the right track. She had some other Russell Kleins to check out in neighboring towns, but this one had been her top candidate. He was the right age. Winnie’s son was most likely between thirty and thirty-three. If she couldn’t find him in this general area, she would have to widen her search to all of Texas-or the whole darn country, if it came to that. But that would take time and time was a luxury she didn’t have.

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” Russ said, and he seemed to relax slightly. “Could I buy you lunch? The Cherry Blossom Café across the street makes a mean chicken-fried steak, so at least you won’t leave Linhart hungry.”

She struggled to regain her equilibrium. “No, thanks,” she said brightly. “Do you know any other Russell Kleins, perhaps relations of yours? Or any Winifred Kleins?”

“This town is full of Kleins. You can’t hardly throw a rock without hitting one. But I don’t know any others with the names you mentioned.”