Jack worked on his omelet awhile as Levy gobbled, then he ran out of patience.
"You said there's more. Give."
Levy leaned back. "Going on the assumption that the hair and the envelope came from the same woman, I had some folks at the agency run her prints."
"As expected."
"I discovered some interesting things about your client."
Uh-oh.
"Such as?"
"She was born Moonglow Garber."
"Moonglow?"
Christy had said her mother was weird, but Moonglow… sheesh.
"Raised by a single mother—just like her half brothers. Without the trigger gene she was pretty much like everybody else. Had an uneventful childhood up until somewhere around her eighteenth birthday when she disappeared for four weeks."
"Disappeared where?"
"Not known. According to police records she wouldn't say anything except that she'd been traveling around. Her mother had filed a missing person report and that was how Moonglow's prints got into the system."
"Find anything on the father of her baby?"
Levy shook his head. "No, but my guess is those four lost weeks were spent with him—she gave birth to a daughter nine months later."
"Dawn."
"Yes. Dawn Pickering."
"Wait. Is that the father's name?"
"It's a good possibility. Moonglow Garber had her name legally changed to Christy Pickering three months before the baby was born."
Jack could see her dumping the Moonglow, but why change the Garber unless she wanted her baby to have her father's name?
"So I suppose a search for Pickerings is on."
"In a desultory way. It's hardly high priority with the agency, but the good news is it's not a common name."
"Yeah? Somehow it rings a bell."
"You know a Pickering?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. It just sounds familiar."
"You don't think you could have known the father, do you?" He laughed. "Now that would be a coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidences."
"Really? That's too bad, because you'll never guess where your client grew up."
"You're right. I won't."
"Atlanta, Georgia."
Jack felt a tightening across his shoulders.
"Was she there when…?"
Levy was nodding. "When Jeremy Bolton was doing his dirty work. Do you think—?"
"She knew him? I asked her just yesterday if the guy she thinks is Jerry Bethlehem could be someone from her past. She says no, and I believe she's telling the truth."
"But she could be wrong. She and Bolton could have crossed paths somewhere when they were kids. It's just too much of a coincidence to think that this half brother of hers, who was in Atlanta when she was, should make a bee-line for her daughter as soon as we lengthen his leash."
"No coincidence at all. He was looking for her. Or at least Thompson was."
Levy dropped his fork. "What?"
Jack explained what he'd found in the notebook.
Levy looked dazed. "He had his brother looking for her?"
"So it would appear. Last night I was asking myself why he was seeking out Dawn Pickering, but now it's even more complicated: Why was he seeking out his niece—or half-niece or whatever she is. To have an affair with her? It's sick. And for the record, Christy's never seen Hank Thompson before either."
Levy shook his head as if to clear it. "Three half siblings in a maze of interconnections that don't seem to go anywhere. I wonder what it all means, if anything."
"Maybe your people can look into it."
"Not without a more compelling reason than simple curiosity. If the answers don't impact on the clinical trial, they won't care to know."
"Swell."
That left Jack with the task of telling Christy Moonglow Garber Pickering that the guy dating her daughter was a close blood relative. Would she believe him? He doubted it.
'Til need proof when I lay this on Christy."
Levy frowned. "I don't know what you mean."
"A lab printout saying in plain English that Bolton—or rather Bethlehem—and Christy have the same father."
"Dear God, I can't do that! The result is from Creighton's lab. No one can know? Creighton is involved. It would mean my head—literally!"
"Can't you just white out the Creighton part?"
"That's not going to help you. No names are mentioned on the report. The specimens are referred to by number only."
"Well, can't you put names in? Not Bolton, of course—use Bethlehem instead."
"The computer won't accept names in the specimen ID fields. Of course you can say the numbers refer to Bethlehem and Mrs. Pickering."
"Nah, that's not going to convince Dawn that she's dating her uncle. The numbers could mean anybody."
Damn. Jack needed something. Even if Christy believed him—and that might not be an easy sell—she'd want to be able to prove it to Dawn.
He pointed his fork at Levy. "Look. Christy's trying to split up Bolton and her daughter. Simply dropping the brother bomb won't be enough. It's not going to mean a thing without documentation."
Christy had already derailed her own credibility with Dawn. Coming up with a wild story about Bethlehem being a blood relative but then being unable to prove it would not put it back on track.
Levy said, "If you want to help split them up, find a way to put Bolton back under lock and key."
"Easier said than done."
Especially when Jack had to work from the wings. Whatever happened to Bolton had to look like bad luck.
"Let's just say he's exposed. Where does that land you folks at Creighton?"
Levy shrugged. "All part of a government program. The fallout is the agency's problem. They'll handle it. They're good at that." He leaned forward. "Look, if you want documentation, let Mrs. Pickering drop the brother bomb, as you call it, and then challenge Bolton to prove she's lying. They can go to any commercial lab and run a paternity test. It will show they both have the same father. That way, you're out of it and so is Creighton."
Yeah, but would any of this be enough to break them up? Jack doubted it. He had a feeling it was going to take a lot more. Something really major.
But what?
3
"Come on now, darlin. You know you want to know."
"I do know. You had a vasectomy so it can't be."
They stood in the upstairs bathroom. Jeremy waved the home pregnancy test kit before her eyes like a hypnotist. He'd picked it up about an hour ago at the local Duane Reade. Now he had to convince Dawn to use it.
"Wouldn't be the first time something went wrong with a vasectomy."
Tears rimmed her baby blues as they fixed on the package like it was a cobra or something.
"You're starting to scare me, Jerry."
"Don't be scared now. Just get a little pee and see." He grinned. "Hear that? I'm a poet. Come on now—pee and see."
She snatched the package from his hand and pushed him toward the door.
"All right, all right! But you're not watching me pee. Nobody watches me pee."
He put on a hurt expression. "Not even me?"
"Especially you. Now get out of here while I do my business."
Jeremy stepped back and let her close the door. As soon as the latch clicked he raised his fists and punched the air.
Yes! It was gonna be positive. Had to be.
He waited, pacing like an expectant father. Hell, in a way he was an expectant father—father to be. He hoped.
His pits were soaked, his palms were so wet they were gonna start dripping soon. His whole life had been pointed toward this moment. Had some unexpected detours along the way—Creighton being one hell of a detour—but here he was, right where he was meant to be. But had he done what he was meant to do?