“Twins?”
“Identical twins.”
“Male and female twins?”
“There are three types of twins,” said Haverstraw. “Identical, fraternal, and conjoined. I’m not the street sleuth, but I think we can rule out conjoined. Fraternal twins wouldn’t match genetically. And these two match.”
“An exact match?”
“We snip off the tail from the letter e in ‘exact.’ Voila! We got a match.”
Driscoll envisioned a circumcision. Had no clue as to why. His expression said: What?
Haverstraw wondered why he felt obligated to explain his sense of humor to everyone. “For where it’ll lead you, they match.”
“I thought all boy-girl twins were fraternal,” said Driscoll.
“They usually are. Identical twins come from the same egg. Follow me on this one. The twinning begins when it separates after fertilization. It’s possible for one twin to have the full complement of forty-six chromosomes, including the XY sex chromosomes of a male, while the other twin has only forty-five chromosomes. Either the Y or one of the X chromosomes is missing. If it’s the Y that’s missing, the twin is left with a single X chromosome. Bingo! Dad gets his little girl. But not without a cost. Although the partner twin, having the X and the Y chromosome, becomes a healthy baby boy, the female is born with Turner syndrome. It’s a rarity of nature.”
“How rare?”
“Very! With a capital V. Take the United States for example. You’re likely to have one such birth every twelve to fifteen years.”
“In the entire country? That is rare. What else should I know about this syndrome?”
“There are some medical indicators. They only apply to the female. She’s likely to be short in stature, an average height being four-foot-seven. She may have webbing of the neck. Additional folds of skin cascading onto her shoulders. Her eyelids may droop. Her ears may be oddly shaped and sit lower than normal on the side of her head. Sometimes a low hairline is present at the base of the skull. The arms may turn out at the elbow. She may have an unusual number of moles. Might also be infertile. She could develop high blood pressure and diabetes and be at extra risk of ear infections and cataracts. Heart, kidney, or thyroid problems can also develop. She may be flat-chested, her nipples widely spaced. If she has breasts, they’re likely to appear undeveloped. Her chest might also appear shieldlike. Obesity is another possibility. Or, Lieutenant, she may have no apparent physical abnormalities at all. Unless she’s diagnosed by a doctor, she might not even be aware of her condition.”
“Great! She might have a target on her, and she might not.” Driscoll groaned.
Haverstraw shook his head sympathetically. “Well, at least you know what her accomplice will look like.”
“I don’t even know what she looks like!”
“Consider this. You may know more about her than she does.”
“What I need to know is who she is, not what she is.”
Haverstraw gulped down the remains of his coffee.
“Do you think there’d be records of such rare twins?” asked Driscoll.
“Depends,” said Haverstraw.
“On?”
“On whether they were ever tested. Oh. And there’s one more thing. Although Dr. Henry Turner first described the condition in 1938, it wasn’t until karyotyping was discovered in 1959 that the medical practitioners had a way to detect it.”
“Karyotyping?”
“A chromosome analysis. A blood test.”
Driscoll stood and smiled at the criminalist. “Ernie, you’ve been a big help. I now have a place to start.” On leaving, the Lieutenant’s eyes drifted to the desktop’s LCD screen. Its scientific hieroglyphics stared back. He pointed to them and cast a quizzical look at Haverstraw.
“Like two peas in a pod,” said the criminalist, leaning back in his chair.
Chapter 24
Cedric Thomlinson was always thrilled when an investigation required him to visit CyberCentral, the tiny wood-paneled technical support room on the fourth floor of Twenty-six Federal Plaza. Was it the humming sound emanating from the room’s sophisticated computer equipment that hypnotized him, quelling his impulses, inviting the most pleasant euphoria? Was he, perhaps, overwhelmed by technological advances that allowed the pooling of infinitesimal and very personal information on the average citizen culled from every government agency, foreign and domestic? Or was he simply a willing victim to a flight of fancy at the mere glimpse of Leticia Hollander, the vivacious, soft-spoken Caribbean woman who was the center’s enticing technician?
“Cedric, what brings you into my den of data?” Leticia cooed, eyes fixed on a computer monitor.
“Duty calls and I am a slave to my job.”
“Slavery was abolished. No?”
“Not at the New York City Police Department. We’re just not shackled anymore.”
Leticia allowed her eyes to drift upward to the meet the detective’s gaze.
“So, what’ll it be today?”
“I’m looking for twins, where the pair is listed as identical yet of opposite sex.”
“You mean fraternal.”
“That’d be too easy. We’ll stick with identical twins of opposite sex.”
“Never knew they existed. But you’re the boss. There’d likely be medical records. I don’t suppose you’ve got a judge’s order to authorize such a search.”
“I’d need fifty. We’ll be checking from Maine to California.”
They both knew the U.S. Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, commonly referred to as HIPPA, and a long list of state regulations forbid unauthorized access to an individual’s medical record. They knew of no exceptions.
“Any leeway under the Patriot Act?” Leticia asked.
“We’re not after terrorists. At least, I hope we’re not.” Thomlinson gave Leticia a sympathetic smile.
“Damn! I know that look. You want me to do another news article search.”
“’Fraid so. Can’t jeopardize the investigation with an unlawful inquiry.” Thomlinson hoped that someone, the twin’s parents, a local support group, a camp counselor, a teacher, or the twins themselves, before embarking on a life of crime, might have brought their uniqueness to the attention of the press. Rarity attracts the curious. The curious buy newspapers. The publisher of Guinness Book of World Records, who has raked in millions on such exclusivity for decades, proves that. Privacy guidelines being what they were, it was his only hope.
“Damn!” Leticia hated searching newspaper archives. There was no fixed database. It meant hunt and peck through a string of Web sites featuring hieroglyphic-like listings from thousands of papers across the country. From the Oshkosh Gazette to the New York Times, the stories spanned the early 1900s through the present day. What made the task tedious was that the keywords entered came back hidden, though highlighted, in gibberish.
To dramatize the point, Leticia tapped her fingers across the keyboard, producing this:
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