But since she wouldn't talk about Dawn's father, that put a sample of the mystery man's DNA out of reach. Levy's second choice was a sample of Dawn's. Jack had to figure a way to get it without triggering a barrage of questions. After a moment he came up with what he hoped was a plausible story.
He touched Christy's arm. "Did Dawn leave anything behind that might be carrying some of her DNA?"
She looked at him with an alarmed expression. "Why?"
"Let's see how close she and Bethlehem are—genetically, that is. Maybe the chance of birth defects—"
"Birth defects? Oh God, don't even think about her being pregnant!"
Jack took her reaction as proof his instincts had been right.
"You're the one who told me they were having sex."
"Yes, but pregnant?"
"One tends to follow the other."
"I can't even think about it."
"Well, then, think about this: You need to show her something. I have Bethlehem's DNA on file at the lab. If I can get some of Dawn's for a comparison, who knows…? Maybe it'll change her mind, or at least give her second thoughts about getting too cozy with that close a relative."
Christy said nothing for a while, then nodded. "I'm sure I saw a hairbrush in one of her drawers after she left. Will that do?"
"Just fine."
"Then let's not waste any more time."
8
Jack sat in his car near the lake and waited. Christy had wanted to drive him over to her house to retrieve the brush but Jack had nixed that for the same reason he'd met her here today.
While waiting, he'd called Levy and told him Dawn's father was a no go but he'd have the girl's hair soon. Jack had expected an argument, with Levy wanting to put him off till tomorrow, but he'd jumped on Jack's suggestion to meet again at the Argonaut.
Levy seemed really into this possibility of a super-oDNA kid.
Jack closed his eyes and untethered his thoughts, letting them take random bounces.
Christy's panic attack… what had triggered it? His mention of the abortionist assassinations? Or something else?
She'd said she'd been "connected" to the two dead docs? What did that mean?
He let it all hang out and cooked up the wildest scenario he could imagine: Had they performed abortions on her and left her so wracked with guilt that she'd killed them?
No. He'd learned the hard way to judge character, and he just couldn't see Christy as a cold-blooded killer.
Then again, Levy said Thompson had told him Bolton was framed. What if it was true? What if Christy had been involved in the frame and now he was getting back at her?
But the cops and probably the feds as well had investigated her and cleared her. And, for whatever it was worth, she couldn't have known Bolton—he'd changed since going to the lockup, but not so much that she wouldn't recognize him as Jerry Bethlehem, beard or no.
He shook his head, baffled. This was making him crazy.
And making him even crazier was this idea of a super-oDNA kid. Clearly someone had designed this situation, but to what end?
And who? The mysterious Jonah Stevens? Who was Jonah Stevens? He pops up out of nowhere, does a Johnny Appleseed thing with his sperm, and dies—supposedly.
But did he die? With no body to exhume, who could be sure he was really dead, or even who he'd said he was?
He could have been Rasalom.
Jack shifted in his seat. Now there was a discomfiting thought: the Other-ness's agent on Earth spreading some sort of toxic seed in the hope of creating a child to—what? Wake up everyone's oDNA and start Armageddon?
Was that the Plan? Was that what Bolton had meant by the comin of the Key to the future … a new world?
By "new" did he mean Otherness dominated?
Rasalom had been mounting attacks on multiple fronts to bring the Otherness to this sphere. Was the super-oDNA kid one of those fronts?
Up ahead he saw Christy's car approaching. She stopped next to him, driver to driver, and rolled down her window.
"Got it."
She handed him the brush. He checked it and saw plenty of hair wound in the bristles.
"I only need ten or so strands."
Christy shrugged. "Take the whole thing. It's old."
He looked at her. "Feeling better?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I think so. When do you think you'll have the results?"
"I'm going to get this rolling tonight. If all goes well I'll have some ammunition for you by tomorrow."
Her eyebrows rose. "Tomorrow? I've heard it takes weeks. Who do you know?"
He gave her what he hoped was a sly smile. "Low friends in high places."
9
When Christy got home and found Dawn's car parked in the driveway, her heart started thumping. Had she had a fight with that man? Had they split? She prayed the bastard hadn't hurt her. If he'd laid one finger on her—
She rushed into the house, calling, "Dawnie?"
Dawn came down the stairs and stood before her. She carried a full duffel bag. Moving more of her stuff out? She looked no worse for wear—no tears, no bruises, no quivering lower lip. She stared at Christy with a disappointed expression.
"I was totally hoping to get in and get out without a scene."
Christy's heart fell. "So, you're not back."
"I'm so not. Maybe someday I'll forgive you for trying to buy him off, but it's going to take a while."
Christy opened her arms and moved toward her. She wanted to take her little girl in her arms and beg her to come back, but Dawn sidestepped her.
"All right," Christy said. "I admit that was a bad move on my part. I regret it."
Dawn shook her head. "Why? Because it totally didn't work?"
Exactly!
But she couldn't say that. Could she say anything about the blood relationship? No. She wasn't convinced herself. She'd have to keep mum until she had proof. So she tried to lighten things up.
She held out her hand. "That's fifty cents you owe me."
Dawn simply stared.
Christy forced a smile. "Come on. Two totallies: fifty cents."
Dawn shook her head again. "That's so over, Mom. But speaking of money, where is it? Do you still have the cash?"
Oh, damn. She'd been so involved in this mess that she hadn't returned it to the bank. Tomorrow… tomorrow for sure.
"Yes. Why?"
"I want to see what it looks like."
Christy didn't know where this was going but decided to play along. Anything to keep her here a little longer. She hurried upstairs to her room, pulled the bag from the bottom drawer of her dresser, and returned to the first floor. Without a word she handed it to Dawn.
Dawn took it, reached inside, and removed a few stacks of bills. She stared at them, then looked at Christy with tears in her eyes.
"This is what you thought I was worth?"
"Oh, God, no! You're priceless to me. I thought that would be more than you were worth to him."
"But you were totally wrong, weren't you."
Christy remembered something Jack had said.
"Maybe he has another agenda more important than money."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out."
Dawn's face hardened as she crammed the bills back into the bag and shoved it at Christy.
"What? Another detective?"
"Yes. And he's learned a few things."
Dawn pushed past her on her way to the door.
"He'll have to go some to beat the first's whoppers."
Christy didn't want to say it but it slipped out.
"He's your uncle, Dawn!"
Dawn stopped and did a slow turn. She looked stunned.
"What?"
"He's my half brother. I never knew he existed."
Her face twisted. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Sadly, no, I don't. But it's true. Not only is he a dangerous, violent man and old enough to be your father, but he's your uncle!"
>
"You're just jealous because you have no man in your life and I do! And did you ever think that maybe I'm with a guy old enough to be my father because I never had one and my mother won't tell me a fucking thing about him?" She screamed the last words.
Christy felt her heart breaking but she kept her voice calm. They'd been through this a million times over the course of Dawn's life. Time to remove the sugar coating without telling her the whole truth.
"Your father has never wanted anything to do with you or me. What more do you need to know?"
Truth. He wouldn't even know of Dawn's existence.
"I'd like to hear that from him."
"Well, then, you'll have to find him. His last contact with me was before you were born. I have no idea where he is."
True.
She shook her head. "Why do you hate him so?"
"I don't. He gave me you."
True again.
Dawn's expression softened for a moment. "He married you and dumped you. That's totally cold, I know, but…"
More than cold—pure fiction. She'd never married and the supposed husband and father—Dennis Pickering—never existed. She'd never even met a Dennis Pickering, let alone married him.
But she'd keep that to herself… forever.
She took a step closer to Dawn.
"Stay for dinner?"
She backed up a step. "Can't. I'm still too pissed about the money. And this uncle thing just makes it worse. Prove it."
"I can't right now."
She rolled her eyes. "Mom! You must think I'm totally stupid!"
"I know you're very bright." Something Jack had said clicked in her mind. "I don't expect you to believe me. I hardly believe it myself. So prove me wrong. Take some of your hair and some of his hair and give them to the lab of your choice—I'll even pay for the test—and have them run a check on how similar they are. If I'm wrong, the laugh will be on me."
Dawn's face reddened as she yanked open the front door.
"You think I'm going to totally insult him by asking him to prove he's not my uncle? Forget it!" She turned on the front step and pointed at Christy. "Better get used to him, Mom. He's the father of your grandchild!"
With that she turned and ran to her car.
Christy wanted to chase after her, but her body wouldn't respond.
Oh no! Oh, please, God, NO!
10
Jerry rubbed a hand over his mouth. "She really told you I'm your uncle?"
Dawn couldn't tell if he was amused or totally pissed. She'd watched him carefully while she told him and his face had been like stone throughout the whole thing.
"Yeah, but she's lying, right? I mean, it's totally not possible, right?"
He slashed the air with a hand. "It's completely impossible! Where does she get these ideas? Has she always been a loon?"
Normally Dawn would so get on the case of anyone who called her mom a name. But this was different. This time Mom was acting loony.
"No, but you and me… it's like unhinged her."
He looked totally upset as he began stalking back and forth across the room.
"Unhinged, hell! She's lost it! First she says I killed one guy and kidnapped somebody else. Now—" He stopped short and stared at her. "Did she have any kind of proof—bogus proof?"
Dawn shook her head. "No. She said she couldn't prove it."
"Well, well, well. If nothing else, your momma is consistent. No proof I killed someone, and no proof I'm her brother."
"Half brother."
His face hardened as he waved a hand. "Makes no difference. This has gotta stop."
He stepped to the closet and pulled out his jacket. Dawn grabbed his arm.
"Where are you going?"
"To see your momma."
"Bad idea, Jerry—totally bad. If you've got to talk to her, call her on the phone."
"I do better in person, darlin. You know that. I want some face time with her to warn her about spreadin any more of her shit."
"Don't do anything…"
He looked at her. "What? Stupid? Like making a scene and throwin things?" He shook his head. "I'm just gonna let her know that if she keeps this up, she'll be hearin from my lawyer."
He kissed her, hugged her, then he was on his way. She watched him stride out the front door, slamming it behind him.
What a mess. What a mad, godawful mess.
She felt a sob building as she thought about how totally she'd screwed up. Pregnant! She did so not want to be pregnant. She didn't want to be a mother—not yet, at least. The idea terrified her. Maybe later on she'd be ready to be totally responsible for another person, but now? No way. She could barely take care of herself. She had some living to do before motherhood.
But Jerry… Jerry was 50 into this baby.
She thought about how he'd danced around this morning when the other tests she'd bought all came out positive. Kept saying how it was a miracle and how the stars had aligned to make this happen and how it was meant to be and talking crazy about destiny and the baby ruling the world. And always "he" when he referred to it. Why not "she"?
He quieted down later, but he'd been just as happy, dragging her out to Work to celebrate, wandering around the place grinning like a drunk.
Like a drunk… Jerry all of a sudden wanted her to be a teetotaler. Not even a beer. Well, fuck that bullshit.
She went to the kitchen and pulled a can of Bud from the refrigerator. But as she reached for the tab she stopped.
Could alcohol really hurt a baby? She'd heard that, but was it true? Maybe she'd better investigate first. She didn't know what she was going to do about the baby yet, but if she decided to keep him—she was sounding like Jerry now—she didn't want to cause any birth defects.
She returned the beer to the fridge.
Shit. This pregnancy thing totally sucked.
11
"Hearin from my lawyer," Jeremy said as he drove along. "Yeah, that'll be the day."
He shook his head in disgust. Why couldn't things go smoothly just once? Just once. The day had started out so great, and now it was turning to shit. Goddammit, why couldn't Moonglow mind her own goddamn business?
Okay, okay, her kid was her business, but couldn't she just lay off? And where was she getting all this info? Who'd have thought anyone would be looking at his DNA.
The world had turned into a science fiction movie during his time on the inside.
He needed to talk to someone. He picked up his cell and thumbed Hank's number.
"Yeah?"
"It's me. Remember that good news I had for you this morning? Well, here's a little bad to go with it: Someone told Moonglow that I'm her half brother."
"Shit! Who?"
"Don't know. The detective she hired, I guess. But who's feeding him? I got a feeling it's someone from our old living quarters, if you know what I mean."
"/ know what you mean, but it doesn't have to be. DNA testing is done everywhere these days. Hair, a little saliva—hey, you watch CSI. You should know that."
Jeremy knew, but a picture of Doc Levy kept popping into his head.
"One thing I do know is we don't want anyone doing any more, do we?"
""Sure as hell don't."
"Well, if it ain't the folks upstate, then it's the detective she hired. I'm on my way to Moonglow's place now and—"
"Are you crazy? She's got it in for you. You go in there and she could beat herself up and say you attacked her. Then where'll you be?"
Jeremy had thought of that. Moonglow—Christy, damn it! Calling her
Moonglow would botch everything. Christy didn't seem the type to pull something like that, but anything was possible.
Still, he needed a face-to-face to get a line on this detective of hers. And thought he had a way to pull it off.
"I'll be careful—real careful. But I hope I can count on you for some backup if I need it, bro."
A long pause on the other end, then, "I'll do what I can, man, but I've got other obligat
ions."
Jeremy's hands tightened on the wheel. Hank and his fucking Kickers. Jeremy loved the Kicker idea of dissimilation, but there had to be a limit. You had to have priorities. The two of them had already had a couple of arguments about this—damn near came to blows one time—but Hank didn't want to risk getting his hands dirty with anything, even if it meant backing off from Daddy's Plan. Way back when, he'd promised to do his part, but then when the time came he'd welshed. Said his Kickers were an adjunct to the Plan. Adjunct… Mr. Writer-man.
"Fuck your fucking obligations, this is crucial."
"/ told you—I'll do what I can."
"Yeah, right."
He cut the connection and bounced the phone off the passenger window.
Hank… useless piece of crap. Oh, yeah, he'd been all full of praise and compliments this morning when Jeremy had told him about the baby, saying stuff like, "You da man, Jeremy! Told you you didn't need me. You da MAN!"
Yeah, I'm the man all right. The only one of us who is.
12
Jeremy pressed Christy's front doorbell, then retreated to the bottom of the steps where he waited while the front lights came on. He saw her face peer through one of the sidelights, then the door opened. Slowly.
Christy stuck her head out, glanced at him with a worried expression, then looked around as if someone else might be hiding in the bushes.
Not likely. And not likely that he was coming within ten feet of her. Still plenty of light, easy for any nosy neighbor to see him standing out here in plain sight, not even in spitting distance.
"What are you doing here?" she said.
He looked up at her. "We need to talk."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Yeah, you do. This bullsh—" He cut himself off. Some of the neighbors might be listening. He didn't want any calls going out to NYPD. Didn't want another run-in with them. "This craziness has got to stop. You just can't go around spreadin lies about me."
"Who says they're lies?"
"I do. And you know they are. You and me related—that's a laugh."
That was a whopper. Daddy had told him all about little Moonglow Garber when he was a kid.
Her mouth twisted in disgust. "It's anything but a laugh—it's a horror."
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