Bloodlines

by Sharon Sala

  “So you are the sister of Foster Lawrence?”

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “And you have a twin sister named Laree?”

  Sheree gasped. “Has something happened to ’Ree? Oh God… I’ve been afraid of that for years. She just dropped off the face of the earth. We used to be so close, and I just knew something had happened to her. She would never have cut off all communication with me.”

  “Wait… wait,” Trey said. “You misunderstand. I have no information regarding your sister, but I’m trying to locate her.”

  “Oh God,” Sheree said, and grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and began dabbing at her eyes. “You scared me half to death.”

  “I’m sorry,” Trey said. “But am I understanding you correctly that you’ve had no contact with your sister?”

  “No… uh, I mean, yes, you understand me right. ’Ree… Laree is my identical twin. We did everything together… always.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  Sheree’s voice began to shake. Suddenly, being Realtor of the year didn’t seem as important as it had a few minutes ago.

  “Years… more than twenty, I guess. Maybe even twenty-five.”

  Crap. Another dead end.

  “Where was she living at the time?”

  “Why… in Dallas, of course. It’s where we all grew up. Well, let me amend that. We grew up outside of Irving, which, as you know, is almost like a suburb now. Our mother worked as manager at a motel on Highway 75 and waited tables at night in the motel coffee shop.”

  “What was your sister doing at the time she disappeared?”

  “Actually, I had already moved away. My husband was in the air force, and he was stationed in California. I wrote to her regularly, but after a while, the letters began to come back marked ‘Moved—Left No Forwarding Address,’ so I gave up. It was awful—like losing a piece of myself.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Oh, she died when we were freshmen in college. That’s when Foster came to live with us. ’Ree and I were sharing an apartment at the time. Foster was only twelve. I worked days and went to night school. ’Ree worked nights and went to school during the day, so she was home with him more in the daytime. They got real close, you know.”

  Trey was taking notes as they talked, and it was all beginning to make sense. If Laree was the woman Michael Sealy had been seeing—and if she was the mother of the dead baby—it would explain how Foster wound up in the mess.

  “So how old was Foster when you lost track of your sister?”

  “Hmm, probably early twenties.”

  Trey scanned the files. The fit was getting tighter. Foster had gone to prison at the age of twenty-three.

  “Wasn’t long after that he got himself mixed up in that kidnapping. I still can’t believe he would do something that awful,” Sheree said. “It wasn’t like him. Really, it wasn’t.”

  “Did you talk to your brother at any time during the trial?”

  “No. My husband was ashamed for anyone to know we were kin. Looking back, I can see that wasn’t right, but I let myself be swayed, and later, it was too late to make amends. He was already gone… shipped off to some federal prison in California.”

  “Did you know anything—anything at all—about your sister’s private life at the time of her disappearance?”

  Sheree thought back, vaguely remembering her sister raving about some rich man who was going to make her life perfect.

  “Yeah, sort of. I think she was seeing this guy… some big shot, I guess. She said he was rich and was going to… you know… take her away from it all, so to speak.”

  “Did she ever mention his name?”

  “No. Or at least if she did, I’ve long since forgotten it.”

  Trey had one more question to ask, but Sheree Collier beat him to the punch.

  “You never did say why you were looking for Laree.”

  Trey hesitated. He didn’t want to alienate the woman when he was going to need her further cooperation.

  “It’s a bit confusing, and right now, part of it is still theory.”

  “So?”

  “As you know, your brother went to prison for his involvement in the kidnapping of a little girl named Olivia Sealy.”

  “Yes. But like I said, I’m sure he didn’t do it.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but just hear me out. He was also the one who was responsible for returning her to her family.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know that,” Sheree said. “That makes me glad, but what does Laree have to do with any of this?”

  “There’s a possibility that your sister was the instigator of the crime, that she was having an affair with Michael Sealy, the little girl’s father, and when he wouldn’t leave his wife, she killed both Michael and Kay Sealy and stole Michael’s child.”

  “I don’t believe it! She wouldn’t do something that awful!” Sheree cried.

  “I can understand your feelings, but you also said you couldn’t believe your brother would get mixed up in something like that.”

  “Yes, but I don’t see—”

  “What if his involvement was solely because of your sister? If she called in a panic about something, isn’t it possible that he automatically went to her aid?”

  There was a long moment of silence, then a sigh.

  “Maybe… yes. Then are you saying you’re looking for her for murdering those two people?”

  “Not two. Three.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  “Two weeks ago, a couple remodeling a house they’d just bought found a suitcase behind a wall. Inside that suitcase was the skeleton of a baby girl who was the same age as the child who was kidnapped. We’ve already determined that the dead baby and the kidnapped baby had the same father. What we don’t know is which baby is which, or who killed the one left behind.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that two little girls, born to different women, looked so much alike that no one could tell them apart?”

  “Not exactly. This is all theory.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “Since you don’t know your sister’s whereabouts I was wondering if you would consider letting us get a sample of your DNA. Since you were identical, we could compare yours to the DNA of both the dead baby and the one who is now grown. We would know if your sister had given birth to one of them. If she didn’t, then you would be helping us clear her name.”

  “And if she did this horrible thing, I would be helping you to hang her,” Sheree said.

  “Lady, that little girl wasn’t even two years old when she was hit in the back of the head, stuffed in a suitcase with a blanket and one sock and a wooden cross with the words ‘Sleeping with angels’ burned into it. If your sister did that, she deserves more than a hanging.”

  Sheree heard the anger in the detective’s voice, and she couldn’t blame him.

  “I’ll help,” she said.

  Trey sighed with relief.

  “I can arrange for your DNA to be taken there.”

  “Is my brother back in jail?”

  “Yes.”

  “In Dallas?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Has he been charged with any crime?”

  “Not yet, but he could be charged with withholding information or even as an accessory to that baby’s death. We can’t get him to talk.”

  Sheree suddenly felt old.

  “I’ll come there. I think I can catch a red-eye tonight and be there tomorrow,” she said. “I want to talk to Foster. If he’s protecting ’Ree from something that awful, then he needs to know it’s okay to tell the truth.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Collier. This is my phone number. Call me as soon as you get to Dallas and I’ll arrange for you to visit your brother.”

  “All right,” Sheree said, and hung up the phone.

  For a few moments she stared down at the cigarette she’d stubbed out only minutes before and felt her stomach lurch. She
jumped up from her desk and ran into the bathroom just in time to throw up. When she came back out, the secretary was standing anxiously by the door.

  “Mrs. Collier, are you all right?”

  Sheree’s chin quivered. “No. I may never be all right again.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” the secretary asked.

  “Book me a flight on the next plane leaving for Dallas and cancel all my appointments for the next few days. I’ll call you and let you know when I’ll be coming back.”

  “Yes, ma’am… and without being too personal… I hope you haven’t received bad news.”

  Sheree’s chin quivered again, but she didn’t let herself go.

  “Honey, I appreciate your concern, but for the record, it was about as bad as news gets.”

  “Oh dear. Please know that you have my sympathies.”

  “I’m going to need a whole lot more than that,” Sheree said, and then took her purse and walked out the door.

  18

  Ella was wearing red. She considered it a necessary power color. At eighty-one, she needed all the power she could get.

  Olivia was wearing the same blue robe she’d come home in and felt somewhat envious of Ella’s red slacks and blouse. She was tired of living in nightgowns and lounging robes, and was looking forward to a visit from Marcus, who was bringing her some of her clothes from home. He’d warned her they might smell of smoke, but she’d assured him she could take care of that. All she wanted was to dress normally again.

  The physical therapist had come and gone, leaving Olivia with a series of exercises she was to do daily, and had given a thumbs-up on using the pool in Trey’s backyard. She had quickly called her grandfather back to remind him to pick up a swimsuit, as well.

  Ella had been unusually quiet, fussing about the house, picking up clutter and running the vacuum. She’d even gone so far as to cut a large bouquet of purple crepe myrtle and put it in a vase on the dining table before she made herself scarce.

  As soon as she hung up the phone, Olivia showered and put her robe back on, before going to look for Ella. She found her in the kitchen stirring up a batch of cookies.

  “Can I help?” Olivia asked.

  Ella eyed Olivia’s slightly flushed cheeks and the way she was holding her arm, and pointed to a chair.

  “You can sit yourself down, missy, before you fall down,” she said.

  Olivia arched an eyebrow.

  “Do I look that bad?”

  “I suspect you’ve looked better,” Ella muttered as she measured almond flavoring into the dough.

  Olivia laughed.

  Ella grinned.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I can get that,” Olivia said.

  Ella pointed her wooden spoon and frowned.

  “You stay set. I’m in charge here.”

  “It’s probably Grampy.”

  Ella sniffed. “So? I’m not afraid of any old man.”

  Having said that, she strode out of the kitchen, still holding the long wooden spoon.

  Olivia rolled her eyes, then got up and followed Ella to the door. She wasn’t sure how her grandfather would react to being greeted by a hussy in red, and decided he might need some protection.

  As it was, she need not have worried. By the looks of things, Marcus had charmed the frost right off of Ella’s attitude. She was all smiles by the time Olivia got there.

  “Here, you just give that suitcase to me. I’ll put it in Olivia’s room while you say hello to your girl,” Ella said, then took the suitcase in one hand. Still carrying the wooden spoon in the other, she sailed past Olivia with a wink and a grin.

  “Olivia, darling, it’s so good to see you up and around,” Marcus said as he crossed the room and took her in his arms.

  Olivia closed her eyes, savoring the scent of his aftershave and the familiarity of his hug as he kissed the side of her cheek.

  “How are you doing?” he asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “I’m doing great,” she said. “You’re the one who’s been displaced. Was the fire bad? Did it do much damage?”

  “Let’s sit,” he said, and motioned toward the sofa.

  She took his hand. “Let’s sit in the kitchen,” she said. “Ella is making cookies. I’m the official taster.”

  “Since when?” Ella asked as she reappeared in the hall.

  “Since you told me to sit down before I fell down,” Olivia countered.

  Ella pursed her lips and gave Marcus a judgmental stare.

  “She’s spoiled, but I suppose you know that, since you’re probably the one who did it.”

  “Not really spoiled,” Marcus said. “Just well loved.”

  Olivia smirked. “She’s just ticked because we were playing poker yesterday evening and I put her in bankruptcy.”

  Marcus looked somewhat startled by their bickering, then realized it was being done with a considerable amount of good will.

  “Poker? You were playing poker?” he asked.

  Ella sniffed. “There’s nothing wrong with a good game of cards.”

  “I agree,” Marcus said, and all but rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve played cards.”

  Ella smiled. “As soon as I finish those cookies, I suppose we could play a hand or two.”

  “I’d love that,” Marcus said.

  Ella’s eyes almost glittered.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Olivia warned her. “Grampy taught me all I know about cards.”

  “I let you win,” Ella said. “He’s on his own.”

  Olivia’s mouth dropped. “You did no such thing. I won fair and square. You’re just saying that to save face.”

  Ella pointed the wooden spoon at Olivia.

  “Honey girl, I’m eighty-one years old. I have long since lost the need to save face, as you put it.” Then she gave Marcus a long, considering look. “If we play, we’re not playing with matches.”

  He nodded. “Done.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “What about the cookies?”

  Ella took herself off into the kitchen.

  They followed, took seats at the table, and suffered through the mouthwatering smell of hot cookies baking in the oven. When the last pan was out and the cookies cooling on a rack, Ella stacked a dozen on a plate, poured three glasses of sweet iced tea, whipped out a deck of cards from a kitchen drawer and carried everything to the table.

  “I take no prisoners,” she warned, and then shuffled the deck as slickly as any Las Vegas dealer could have done.

  Marcus stuffed one whole cookie in his mouth and began to chew. When she shoved the deck to him to be cut, he did so without question.

  “I like a woman with guts,” Marcus said, and shoved the deck back at her, then took another cookie.

  Olivia played two hands of poker, ate four of the still-warm cookies, finished her iced tea and excused herself for a nap.

  The pair barely acknowledged her exit.

  Olivia was still smiling as she drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  There was a bounce to Trey’s step as he came into the office. David Sheets nodded casually, then did a double take when he saw the smile on Trey’s face. Chia pointed at him from across the room, then wiggled her eyebrows. Trey laughed out loud. Today was a good day. He’d spent the night with Olivia in his arms and awakened to the smile on her face. With the promise of many nights and mornings like that to come, he was on top of the world.

  Besides that, finding Sheree Collier had gone a long way toward easing his frustrations over the mystery surrounding Baby Jane Doe.

  “What’s so great?” Sheets muttered as Trey sat down at his desk.

  “Thanks to your partner there, we just may have a break in the Baby Jane Doe case,” he said.

  Chia gave a little whoop.

  “She was on that list I gave you?”

  Trey nodded. “Third call I made. Sheree Lawrence Collier lives in Miami, Florida.”

&
nbsp; “Fantastic. So do we know where Laree Lawrence is now?”

  “No, and here’s the kicker. Sheree hasn’t seen or heard from her since Foster was arrested.”

  Lieutenant Warren walked up behind them as they were talking.

  “Did I hear you right? You’ve got a connection between Michael Sealy and Laree Lawrence?”

  “What I have is a connection between Foster and Laree, and what I know from her sister, Sheree, is that Laree had a rich boyfriend, who was supposedly going to make her a happy woman.”

  Warren frowned. “That still doesn’t give us a connection we can take to court.”

  “Maybe not now, but that is subject to change,” Trey said.

  “How so?” Warren asked.

  “Identical twins share the same DNA, and Sheree Lawrence Collier is on her way to Dallas. She’s volunteered to give us a sample of her DNA. If it matches either Olivia Sealy or Baby Jane Doe, then we’ve got the other kidnapper. She has also offered to talk to her brother, Foster, in the hope of convincing him to tell what he knows.”

  Warren grinned and clapped Trey on the back.

  “Good job.”

  “Congratulations go to Chia, too. She did all the Internet searches for me or I’d still be at it.”

  Warren gave an approving nod to Chia, who grinned happily.

  “When is the sister arriving?” Warren asked.

  Trey glanced at his watch.

  “Unless her plane was delayed, she’s already here. She booked a room at the Adam’s Mark. She’ll call when she gets settled. I’ll take her to the crime lab for a DNA swab, then she’s been cleared to visit her brother.”

  “Okay,” Warren said. “Keep me in the loop. The sooner this is off our backs, the happier the commissioner is going to be. I’m having lunch with him today. I’ll fill him in on what’s happening.”

  Before Trey could answer, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID.

  “It’s the Adam’s Mark,” he said, then answered, “Detective Bonney.”

  Sheree Collier’s voice was a little shaky.

  “Detective, it’s me, Sheree Collier.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you ready for me to come get you?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

  “Be there in about thirty minutes,” he said.

  “I’ll be waiting in the lobby. I’m wearing a light blue dress.”