“Dr. Stevenson. Are you, okay?”
Mariska nodded.
“Hello?” Dr. Tora said. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” Mariska’s voice was barely more than a squeak. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
This brought her one step closer to finding out who she was. Where she came from. How she ended up in the dumpster the night her parents found her.
“Dr. Stevenson?”
“Yes?”
“There’s more. Are you sure you’d like to hear this from me? Over the phone? It’ll all be in the report…you can take your time to—”
“No,” Mariska said. “I need to hear it, now…please.”
“We processed the DNA from the red hair, and we got a hit in the system.”
“A hit?”
“Yes, we were able to identify who your grandmother is.” Dr. Tora paused for a moment. “Are you ready for me to continue?”
“Yes, please.” Mariska fought hard against the rising emotions. Panic. Fear. Joy. They all seemed to hurt and yet make her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“The name was provided by the computer system, but for address, phone number, and any other private information, you’d need a court order.”
“Understood.” Tell me the fucking name…Please.
“Ingrid Ashton.”
With her last composed breath, Mariska said, “Thank you so much.”
She hung up the phone and slid out of the chair and onto the floor. Ingrid Ashton was her grandmother? What were the odds? She couldn’t have killed, Jane. Right?
Mariska closed her eyes tight and wept.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mariska didn’t remember the drive over to Ingrid’s place, but she stood at the old woman’s front door and tried to muster up the courage to ring the doorbell. She wiped the bangs from her sweaty brow and after a deep breath, pushed the button.
A few moments passed before, Thomas the butler, answered the door. He opened the door and took a double take.
“Dr. Stevenson, was Ms. Ashton expecting you?”
She shook her head, “No, but if you wouldn’t mind letting her know I’m here, I’d be more than happy to wait inside.” Mariska started to move forward, trying to pass the butler on her way inside the house.
He stood steadfast. “I’ve been given implicit orders from the lady of the house, absolutely, under no circumstances, is she to receive visitors today.”
Mariska cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business,” Thomas said with a tone of annoyance as he started to close the door.
Mariska turned and noticed around the far side of the circular driveway was a dark-colored SUV. Who else was here? She made her move, shoving the door open with her shoulder. Thomas stumbled backward, and Mariska helped steady him before he hit the floor.
“Oh, goodness,” Mariska said. “Thomas, you must be more careful. Here, have a seat.” She helped him over to the chair in the entryway. “You should be more careful.”
Thomas rubbed a growing bump on his forehead where the door hit him on her way in. The twinge of guilt did little to slow her down. She hurried down the hallway, listening for the sound of voices. Muffled, yet angry sounds came from deeper in the house. Mariska followed like a hound dog on the heels of its prey.
She stopped at the back of the home and listened. The voices were a bit clearer from this distance and definitely coming from the right. She turned and followed the sounds. The sounds lead her to a set of large, wooden doors. The ornate carved wood was dark with age and Mariska suspected taken from a historical site, years before such things were considered illegal.
Mariska put her ear to the door and listened. Two distinct voices, no doubt, Ingrid was one of them. But who was the man? She reached for the doorknob and went to turn it when she was interrupted.
Thomas had found his backbone once again and charged down the hallway toward her.
“Ms. Stevenson, how dare you come in here uninvited? I must ask you to leave at once, or I’ll be forced to call the authorities. I can’t imagine you want another run-in with the law.” His haughty tone set her hackles on edge.
“I’ll only be a minute. I need to talk to Ingrid.” Mariska turned back to the door, reaching for the knob. Her hand was pulled away, sending a jolt of pain up into her shoulder.
Thomas wasn’t messing around. And he was stronger than he looked. Mariska pulled her arm free of his grip and was a half second from punching him in the face when the door was pulled open behind her.
Mariska swiveled around and saw Ingrid standing there, looking at her with shock and a bit of humor in her expression. The older woman’s white hair was pulled up into a loose bun at the top of her head, and Mariska tried to imagine it transformed into a bright auburn.
“Thomas, what’s going on here?”
Thomas took a step back and placed a tentative finger to the large goose egg on his forehead. “I tried to politely ask Dr. Stevenson to come back at another time. That I had specific orders from you that there were to be no visitors.”
“I’m sorry,” Mariska said. “It was…an accident.” She shrugged her shoulders and reached for his hand, but he backed away. “I was merely trying to come inside to see you. I guess we got our signals crossed.” She feigned a pouty face and turned and looked over Ingrid’s shoulders into the large library behind her.
Where was the man she heard talking?
Ingrid followed Mariska’s stare and then stepped into her line of sight. “What can I help you with, Mariska?”
Mariska focused on the older woman’s face for a moment. Was the anger in her eyes? Had she interrupted something important? Who was in there with her? Where’d he go?
“I need to talk to you…and I can’t wait for another time. So…” Mariska put her hands on her hips.
Ingrid offered Thomas a pitied look. “That’ll be all, Thomas. Go fetch some ice for your forehead.”
It was clear that Thomas wanted to say more, but simply turned and walked away, his hand pressed against the injury. Ingrid stepped aside. “Well, come on in.”
Mariska stepped into the library, and Ingrid closed the door behind them.
“What’s this all about?” Ingrid said. “Are you, okay?”
Mariska turned to face her grandmother. There was so much she wanted to say, but her emotions were preventing her from saying anything. She balled up her fists and held her arms straight at her sides to regain control.
“Oh, dear. You’re pretty upset about something. Here, come and sit.”
Ingrid pulled Mariska over to the sofa in the middle of the room, and they sat together. Ingrid held onto Mariska’s hand and squeezed it with support. “What has you so upset?”
Mariska looked into her eyes and for the first time, saw herself staring back. The speckles of brown and flecks of light green in Ingrid’s blue irises matched her own.
“I know you’re my grandmother.”
Ingrid sat up straight and placed her hands together in her lap, looking away from Mariska for moment. “How did you find out?”
“I had my DNA tested and compared to a strand of red hair I found. We were a match indicating a maternal grandparent relationship between us.”
“Where did this red hair come from?” Ingrid turned to her. “And how did you trace it to me?”
“You don’t seem surprised by this revelation.”
Ingrid didn’t say anything, but put her head down and closed her eyes.
Mariska felt a deep seeded anger she hadn’t expected. “How long have you known? Were you ever going to tell me?” She scooted away from Ingrid. “Answer me. Where’s my biological mother and father? How…how did I end up in a dump—?”
Ingrid wrapped her arms around Mariska, stopping her from finishing her question. The two women held the embrace long enough for Mariska’s heart rate to settle down and Ingrid to compose herself.
Once, the older woman pulled away, Ingrid wiped tears from her eyes and cleared her throat.
“You must have so many questions…I do too.” Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. The story starts so long ago, I’m not sure where to begin.
“How about you start at the part where I was left for dead in a dumpster outside the museum. I mean, how long did you keep this a secret?”
“I only found out a few days ago myself.”
“Really?” Mariska said. “And, how was that?”
“When you came to see me after your accident on Mulholland drive. I couldn’t help, but notice some things about you…the say you sit, some of your mannerisms.”
Mariska looked at the way she held her hand in her lap, one leg crossed behind the other. Ingrid sat in an identical pose.
“Even Thomas mentioned how much you look like your mother…my, daughter.” Ingrid’s voice was strained with emotion.
“The way we sit doesn’t make us related. How did you determine this?” Facts, not emotion, was going to get Mariska the answers she wanted—the answers she needed.
“You’re right,” Ingrid continued. “After you took a drink of the water I offered you, I had Thomas take the glass away, and we had it swabbed for DNA. I gave a hair sample for comparison. The results were mailed to me just the other day. As you can imagine, I was stunned.”
“Stunned? You were stunned? How, did you not know about me, before now?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
Ingrid’s shoulders relaxed as she accepted the inevitable.
“My daughter, Jennifer, your mother, was a troubled child. No matter what I did…no matter how many programs we put her in, she couldn’t shake the drugs and alcohol. I even put her in one of those Malibu rehab programs. Fifty-thousand dollars a month…supposed to be a guaranteed cure. But she always relapsed.”
Mariska found herself pulled into the story, but waiting for the punch line. How did this messed-up teen, with every opportunity in the world laid out before her, end up throwing her own child away?
“Anyway,” Ingrid said. “I tried everything. Then one day she came to me, telling me she was pregnant. Well, you can imagine I was less concerned about her being an unwed mother and more for the safety of her unborn child…you.”
“Who’s my father?”
“Well, you see, that’s interesting you asked because you’ve met his family.”
“I have?” Mariska’s mind went wild. Who the hell was her father?
“You see, Jennifer and Peter Grassland Junior grew up together from the time of their birth. Playing together in the dirt at excavation dig-sites, naughtily playing catch with fragile bones that’d been unearthed. They were inseparable.”
“So, I have Chumash blood in me?” Mariska asked.
“That’s correct.”
So, it was in her DNA to obsess over the La Brea Woman? She wasn’t crazy after all. She was linked to this ancestor from thousands of years ago.
“Go on. What happened after you found out Jennifer was pregnant?”
“I sat Jennifer and Peter down and had a talk with them. I asked them if they planned on keeping you. They were so in love, holding each other’s hands on this very couch telling me that they’d do anything to keep the baby and be together.” Ingrid shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her hands against her knees. “I let them know that their sobriety meant everything then. No matter what, they had to keep clean. Of course they readily agreed with everything I was saying to them. And, quite honestly, I believed them. The sincerity in their eyes spoke volumes about their love for each other…and, you.”
Mariska felt butterflies in her stomach. The fluttering making her feel sick. She swiped away her bangs from her damp brow.
“Everything started off great. They both lived here in this house where I could keep an eye on them. I had a steady stream of counselors come in and teach them about their addiction. Tried to instill in them coping mechanisms for when times get hard…when the addiction seemed to be winning.”
“Tried?” Mariska asked.
“Yes, I tried. The counselors tried. They tried.” Ingrid tucked an errant hair back into the loose bun. “All-in-all, we managed to get eight full months of sobriety about of them. Then, one day, Peter disappeared. Jennifer was frantic. She cried for days, calling everyone they both knew. It was clear to me he’d run off to get high. Being the good man he was, he hadn’t tried to get Jennifer to go with him. But the draw to remain together was too strong for her.”
“She went to find him, didn’t she?”
“That’s what I think happened. I even think she went to find him and bring him back to the safety of this home…but once she got out there, temptation was too great.”
“How did I end up in the dumpster?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Ingrid said. “I didn’t even know you were their baby until just a few days ago. The night you were born there was a fundraising gala at the museum. As you’ve undoubtedly heard from your parents, your mother heard you crying inside the dumpster. She crawled into that nasty, rusted metal container before her husband could stop her. When she reemerged, she was holding you in her arms.”
“Yeah, I heard the stories. She rescued me from certain death. She is the bravest woman I know.” Mariska felt her stomach tighten. She missed her mom and dad more than she could even explain. Somehow, she would make this right again. She’d give them a reason to be proud of her.
“When they found my Jenny and Peter a month later, dead from an overdose of heroin, my baby…was no longer pregnant. I had no idea what had happened to you.”
“So, she gave birth, discarded me and went off to get high?”
“As awful as that sounds, I truly believe she waited to have you before she shot up. She loved you, Mariska. So many nights we sat in front of the fireplace and talked about you. What we thought you’d look like, what we hoped your interests would be. How we both hoped and prayed you’d never become addicted to drugs like your parents.” Ingrid’s eyes filled with tears and poured over and down her cheeks.
Mariska leaned into her and gave her a long hug until she felt Ingrid’s body soften into the embrace. Soon, both women were rocking each other to comfort their overwhelming emotions.
“So…would it be weird for you to have me call you Grandma?”
Both women burst into a much needed and cleansing laugh.
“I’d like that,” Ingrid said.
“Do my parents know about this?”
Ingrid paused for a moment, her eyes searching Mariska’s, no doubt wondering if full disclosure was the right thing to do.
“I informed your father about it as soon as I got the DNA test results back. I have a feeling he has yet to tell your mother. I told your father that I would never say anything to anyone unless I had his permission. He’s your father and has the right to make that decision.”
“I think you’re right,” Mariska said. “I’m not sure how to even bring it up to him. Did he seem upset?”
“Visibly taken aback, but not angry. He has a cool head on his shoulders. I assured him, I would be as absent in the family as he would like me to be.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he needed to think about it.”
Mariska smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” How could he keep this from me?
“Anyway, I let him know, regardless of his decision, I was going to be depositing money into an account in his name. The money comes from my estate and has always been earmarked for my grandchild. I always felt that you were out there…somewhere. And, I was prepared to leave this money for you even in the event of my death. Having determined your lineage, I felt it was only right to give the money to your father. He was apprehensive at first, but I can be very convincing.” Ingrid gave a wink.
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Then it dawned on Mariska. That’s what the deposit was in her father’s name from the mystery account. It was part of her in
heritance. What were the other deposits for then? It’s not important…there would be more time to discuss such things later. Plus, that’s all police business anyway—Wulf’s problem to deal with.
Mariska had some other pressing matters to discuss with her grandmother.
“So, Grandma, who was the man I heard in the library when I first got here? And where did he go?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Wulf expected Mariska to go to Ingrid’s house that morning. With Theresa’s assistance, he’d dug up some information regarding their genetic connection—namely she found her way into the University of Copenhagen database. Theresa sure knew her way around a computer and had proven invaluable to their investigation. If she ever decided to change careers, he’d definitely make the suggestion to enter law enforcement through their cyber investigations team.
What he hadn’t expected was that within minutes of Mariska entering Ingrid’s home, a man came running out the back. From Wulf’s vantage point, he was unable to see who the man was, but when he saw the man driving away in a dark SUV, he decided to follow.
The man drove very well, fully stopping at all stop signs, never went over the speed limit, and used his blinker every time. It gave Wulf no legitimate reason to pull him over, and he knew in this situation he needed to play by the rules. He couldn’t risk doing something to compromise the already precarious case.
Wulf placed a call to Theresa.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Theresa.” Wulf stopped the car behind directly behind the SUV at the stop light. Traffic was picking up, and he wasn’t sure he was going to have much time to get information about this guy.
“Wulf? What can I do for you?” Her voice sounded suspicious. “Was I supposed to meet you somewhere and forgot?
“No, but I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Are you by a computer?”
A slight pause. “Of course I am.”
“Can you run a vehicle plate?” Wulf asked. The light changed color, and he’d been distracted and didn’t see the vehicle pulling away from him. “Shit.”
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