Bloodline

by F. Paul Wilson

  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 so 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.”

  “I 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 obligations.”

  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.”

  “I 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.”

  “There are laws against this kind of thing. I’d be suin you now for libel—”

  “You mean ‘slander.’ Libel is in print.”

  “Whatever. You’d be hearin from my lawyer instead of me right now if you wasn’t Dawn’s mother. But this is the last time. This is your last free pass. Next time, we go to court.”

  She smiled. “Fine with me. The only way I can get hurt in court is if what I’m saying is untrue. And it’s not, is it.”

  Bitch. How could Daddy have sired such a dumb cow?

  Well, maybe not so dumb. She’d found out he was her half brother. No, wait. She didn’t find out—her detective did. Jeremy had to get the name of this guy. Couldn’t handle him like Gerhard—that, he admitted, had been stupid—but maybe he could get Vecca to pay him off.

  “Who’s feedin you all this crap?”

  “A friend.”

  “The same guy who fed you that other line of bull?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Tell me who he is. I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with him, straighten him out on a few matters.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Like you talked to Mike Gerhard?”

  “I never heard of this Gerhard guy. Let me talk to your PI. Talk—nothin more. Just give me his name.”

  She laughed—laughed—then said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Rage exploded in Jeremy—a white-hot burst of flame spreading from his chest into his limbs. He wanted nothing more than to run up these steps and wipe that smile—

  She must have seen something in his face because her smile did disappear as she took a quick, small step back inside the door.

  “You want to hit me, don’t you.”

  The words struck like a bucket of ice water. Almost as if she’d read his mind. He looked down and saw his foot on the first step.

  She stepped out again and gave him a contemptuous stare.
<
br />   “Go ahead, brother. Do your worst.”

  Another explosion. Jeremy teetered on the edge of doing just that. This bitch had no idea what his worst could be. He started to raise his other foot to take the next step but stopped himself.

  A voice in his head shouted, No!

  That’s exactly what she wants. She wants you to lose it and pound the shit out of her. Because then she’ll have won. You can double-talk your way out of unsubstantiated accusations and lab reports, but take a few pokes at Dawn’s momma here in public and you’ll not only lose your freedom, but you’ll lose Dawn as well. For good.

  He backed off the step—damn near the hardest thing he’d ever done—and kept a calm expression as he looked up at her.

  Maybe Daddy hadn’t done such a bad job siring her. She’d done what she was supposed to: Birthed a baby girl and raised her and protected her. She was even ready to take a beating for her.

  I take back the “cow” remark, Moonglow. You’ve grown into one hell of a woman.

  And with that he felt something stir in his loins. He realized he wanted her—wanted to rip off those clothes and take her.

  That too was off-limits. But it gave him an idea. A wonderful idea.

  “This is getting us nowhere. Be warned. And be warned about somethin else. Dawn says she told you about the pregnancy. Well, if you ever hope to lay eyes on your grandson, even for a second, you’d better make the best of things as they are and leave us alone.”

  He took huge satisfaction in Moonglow’s stricken expression as he turned away and sauntered toward his car.

  13

  “Well, did you tell her?” Dawn said when Jeremy stepped through the door. “Did she get the message?”

  He put on an uncertain look. As before, he had to play this carefully. Even more carefully than the last time.

  “I…I don’t think so. I don’t think she’ll ever leave us be.”

  Dawn stepped closer, a concerned look on her face.

  “What do you mean?”

  Jeremy looked away. Now the touchy part. Had to hold back and let her think she was prying it out of him.

  “Nothin.”

  “Nothing? Come on! You threatened her with a lawyer and what did she say?”

  “It’s not what she said. It’s what she did.”

  “What, damn it!”

  He loosed a long sigh. “I’m not sure how to tell you this…not sure I even want to.”

  “What do you mean?” Dawn took a step back. “She didn’t try to hurt you, did she? Did she have her gun?”

  Oh, this was perfect, perfect.

  “I almost wish she had.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Another sigh, then he turned and gave her a forlorn look as he hit her with the money shot.

  “She came on to me.”

  The color drained from her face. “What?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. You thought I was lyin about her tryin to buy me off and—”

  “No!” She waved her hands. “No, it’s just—are you sure?”

  “Well, she was wearin some sort of red robe that she took off and there she was, standin right in front of me bold as day in her birthday suit.”

  Jeremy knew about the robe from his explorations of the house the few times he and Dawn had had the place to themselves.

  “No! She’d never! What did she say!”

  “Nothin. But she knelt down in front of me and started pullin at my fly, and…and I guess that kind of said it all. I—”

  Dawn waved her hands again. “Stop it! Stop it! I’m going to be sick!”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Ohmigod! But this is so not her. Mom’s just not into that. I mean, she’s gone out like maybe twice in the last two years.”

  Careful…careful…need just the right tone here…

  “Maybe that explains it.”

  Dawn looked at him like a kid who’s just been told there is no Santa Claus. “She stripped down right in front of you? That’s so totally not my mom.”

  He decided to risk going out on a limb to add the finishing touch.

  “I was floored myself. Did you know she’s got this cute little butterfly tattoo”—he touched his lower abdomen, just below his belt line—“right here.”

  Dawn pressed her hands against her eyes. “Stop! I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it! Damn her!”

  He slipped his arms around her.

  “Go easy on her, darlin. She seems like a real confused woman. Don’t be too mad at her.”

  “Too mad? Oh, I’m not too mad at her, because mad doesn’t even come close. I’m like totally pissed out of my mind!” She bit her upper lip as she blinked away tears. “My own mother. I can’t believe this.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dawn.”

  And for an instant he meant it. She was hurt, crushed. So although he wanted to take a run up to Vecca’s and find out where this detective was getting his info, he couldn’t leave Dawn right now.

  She’d just had the rug pulled out from under her life. But Jeremy was going to give her a new rug—a Persian carpet.

  14

  The phone rang. Christy checked the caller ID and saw Dawn’s number.

  Now what? As much as she loved her daughter and wanted to speak to her, she had a feeling this would not be pleasant. Not after the way they’d parted this afternoon. Not after the smirk on that man’s face as he’d left earlier.

  After hesitating for a few heartbeats, she picked up.

  Dawn…screaming incoherently…

  Christy’s heart climbed into her throat. Had something happened? Had he done something to her?

  “Dawnie-Dawnie-Dawnie! What is it? Are you hurt?”

  “Hurt?” she screeched. “How can you ask that? I’m not hurt—I’m CRUSHED! My own mother! How could you DO that?”

  “Do what? What are you talking about?”

  “You know damn fucking well what I’m talking about!” The screech broke off in a wrenching sob. “How could you, Mom? How could you come on to Jerry like that? You of all people!”

  What? Come on to that man? Never in a million years!

  “I don’t under—”

  “He told me all about it!”

  The bastard! The sneaky, lying bastard!

  “Then he’s lying. I didn’t even let him in the house!”

  “No!” The screech again. “YOU’RE lying! You took off your clothes right in front of him!”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “STOP LYING! He told me about the butterfly! How else could he know about the butterfly if you weren’t stripped down in front of him!”

  Butterfly? What was she—?

  Her tattoo—she’d got it on a crazy whim at seventeen…high…at the beach…wearing a bikini…going to a tattoo parlor with her friends…they all got inked…

  But how did that man know about it?

  She’d worry about that later. Right now she had to break through Dawn’s hysteria. Christy struggled to keep her voice calm, her tone rational.

  “It’s all lies, Dawn. He’s trying to make you hate and mistrust me. I didn’t do anything like that. I never would! You know me better than that.”

  “I thought I did.”

  “You’ve known me for eighteen years and him for what—a few months? Who are you going to believe?”

  “He knows about the butterfly, Mom! How else could he know about it?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe he’s been peeping on me or—”

  “Stop it! You’re crazy! STOP IT!”

  And then the line went dead.

  Christy tried to call back but Dawn wouldn’t answer. She thought about going over there but decided against it. What would that accomplish? More screaming, more he-said, she-said, and Christy unable to explain how that man knew about her tattoo.

  A chill ran over her skin. Had he been peeping on her?

  But how? She never walked around undressed. The only time she was unclothed was f
or a shower, and her bathroom was on the second floor and she kept the blinds drawn, so even if he climbed a tree—

  A camera…he knew computers and video games…had he installed some sort of minicam in her bathroom? She’d read where they could be hidden in something as simple as a box of tissues.

  It sounded so paranoid, but look at what that man had done in so short a time: He’d stolen Dawnie and turned her against her. Tonight’s lie proved that nothing was beneath him.

  She’d have to search her bedroom and bathroom inch by inch. But first…

  She grabbed her phone and dialed Jack’s number. She no longer wanted him as an investigator. She prayed he’d hire out to do something else—something more direct, more…final.

  15

  “Carb loading again?” Jack said as he sat down.

  He’d arrived at the diner and found Levy’s car in the lot, but no Levy. He checked inside and found him chowing down at a table for two along an inner wall.

  Levy looked up from his platter of latkes and applesauce. “These are fabulous.”

  “Have I got a friend for you.”

  Jack hid his annoyance. He’d wanted to meet outside, give him the hairbrush, and be off. Now there’d be chit-chat and exhortations to join in on the eating. Jack wasn’t hungry and in less of a chit-chatty mood than usual, which meant approaching zero.

  A waitress showed up, older and not as pretty or perky as the last one, and asked what Jack was having.

  “The latkes,” Levy said. “I’m not kidding. They’re loaded with little bits of onion and fried to perfection. You’ve got to try them.”

  Jack looked at the oily lumps of potato and decided to pass. He ordered coffee.

  He slipped the brush out of his pocket and, touching only the bristles, slid it toward Levy along the rear edge of the table.

  “This belongs to Dawn.”

  Levy’s mouth was too full for speech so he simply nodded and shoved it into a side pocket of his suit jacket.

  “When can I expect results? I promised tomorrow.”