Page 28 of Memory of Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #3)

Anne smiled. “It’s completely logical and fits the pattern.

One of the Langstons killed Neil to get him out of the way because he planned to do something or knew something, and they used Mary as the scapegoat.

The Langstons got rich from BioTech and launched their dream political career.

Carin somehow knew their deep, dark secrets and has milked the couple for all she can get. ”

Jack held her gaze for a moment. “And your mother spent more than half her life in prison for a crime she didn’t commit. She missed raising you…watching you become the amazing young woman you are.” He shook his head. “They stole her life.”

“They stole my childhood.” Anne blinked rapidly, emotion shining in her eyes. “I want to make them pay.” Her voice was thick with that emotion.

Jack placed his hand on hers. “We will see to it that happens.”

The gate started to open once more. Jack watched as the Langston Mercedes rolled back out.

“I guess leaving a quick message was all she needed to do.” This group of friends was definitely up to something.

Anne’s breath caught. “Unless she killed her.”

Jack met her gaze. Unfortunately, that was a reasonable possibility. Not the most likely one, he figured, but not improbable.

“If she’s dead, we can’t change that, but we do need to see where Eve goes next. Then we can come back.”

“You’re right.” Anne fastened her seatbelt. “Let’s follow her.”

They tracked Eve Langston who, surprisingly, returned to her castle-like home without another stop.

Then Jack drove back to the Wallace home to follow-up on Carin’s status.

Anne remained absorbed in her thoughts. He recognized she had a lot to take in with all this…

a lot to resolve internally. Her entire adult life she’d ignored thoughts of her biological parents and their tragic history in order to go on with hers.

Now she was seeing a different side. All of this had to be overwhelming.

Jack pulled the rental up to the gate and pressed the button for the intercom. He wanted desperately to find answers for her.

“Ms. Wallace is still not available.” The woman recognized them from their previous visit. The gate was equipped with a camera as well as an intercom. “If you’ll leave your name and number, I will be sure she knows you’d like to speak to her.”

Jack leaned forward so that his face was clear for the camera that sat atop the fence. “Jack Brenner from the Colby Agency.” He provided his cell number. “Tell her it’s important. We know the truth about Neil Reed. She needs to contact me.”

“I’ll pass along the message.”

Jack and Anne exchanged a glance, and then he backed out of the driveway.

“If there had been a fight or any trouble the woman who spoke to you would know it,” Anne suggested.

“Which means we don’t need to worry about Wallace being wounded and bleeding out on the floor.”

“Okay.” Anne laughed softly. “I loved your message, by the way. If that doesn’t get a response, nothing will.”

His cell vibrated on the console. He picked it up and greeted the caller. “Jack Brenner.”

“Mr. Brenner,” a female voice said, “this is Beatrice Farrell.”

He glanced at Anne. “Good afternoon, Ms. Farrell.”

“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Your timing is perfect.”

Anne was leaning toward him in hopes of hearing the conversation. He wished he had put it on speaker, but that was hard to do while driving.

“I remembered the name of that lab Mary used. It was Trust One. It was the funniest thing. I was watching television, and someone said the word trust , and it suddenly came to me. I hope this helps. Please give Anne my best.”

Anticipation fired in Jack’s veins. “Thank you, Ms. Farrell. This is very helpful.”

He ended the call and placed his phone back on the console. “Trust One,” he said to Anne who was waiting, staring intently at him. “That’s the lab Mary used.”

“What are the chances they’ll give me a copy of the test?”

“Have your friend Lisa send you a copy of your birth certificate if you have one.”

“I do,” she said eagerly. “I also have the death certificate that came with the letter from the prison.”

“Have her send that too.” He drove, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“We might be able to get the results since you are Mary’s biological daughter.

Otherwise, we’ll purchase some sort of genetics assessment they offer.

She’s in their database, so some part of the results of her testing will show up as a match to yours. ”

“But that takes time, and it might not give us all the information from her original request.” Worry tinged Anne’s voice.

“Depends on the clerk and what we offer,” he suggested. “Maybe we can get everything.”

Trust One Lab

Borden Street, 3:00 p.m.

T HE PARKING LOT was basically empty. The couple of cars there likely belonged to employees.

It was Saturday afternoon. Business had slowed with closing time nearing.

Jack removed the five carefully folded one-hundred dollar bills he kept in a hidden slot in his wallet for an emergency just like this one.

“Ready?”

Anne nodded and then got out.

“If there’s a chance you could get into trouble for this,” she said quietly, “I can do it. I could be just a desperate woman looking for her family. Emotion drives people to do bad things.”

He slipped the folded money into his front pocket. “Not necessary. I’m a PI, not a cop. Bending the rules is something I have to do sometimes. The cops don’t like it, but they usually don’t push it.”

She squared her shoulders. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.” He opened the door, and they entered the waiting area. White walls, industrial-type tile and preformed plastic chairs. The typical sterile environment.

When they reached the counter, a clerk, male, mid-twenties maybe, approached them. He looked beyond ready for his day to be over. It was Saturday, so of course he did. Having someone—a potential customer—walk in the door was not what he wanted at this hour.

“Can I help you?” he said with no enthusiasm.

“Yes.” Anne smiled hopefully. “My biological mother had some prenatal paternity testing done here, and I’m hoping to get those results. I have my birth certificate. Her name was—”

“I think,” he interrupted, “I’ll need a legal order to give you someone else’s lab results, even your mother’s.”

Anne’s expression shifted from hopeful to desperate. “I do have my birth certificate and proof she passed away. Are you sure you need anything more?”

He shrugged. “Sorry. There are requests you can make. Or you can do a genetic test and find your matches that way.”

Jack placed his hand on the counter, pushed the folded hundreds from beneath his fingers. “What testing option would you recommend for immediate results?”

The young man stared at the folded bills. He turned to Anne then. “You said you have your birth certificate and maybe a death certificate?”

She nodded. Showed him the images on her phone. “Can I email these to you?”

“Sure thing.”

She hit Forward and handed the phone to him. He typed in the email address and pressed Send. Then he gave her a couple of forms.

“Fill these out, and I’ll see what I can do.”

He went to a desk and worked at his computer while Anne filled out the forms. Jack hoped this would work. A court order could take days or weeks.

Anne laid the pen on the counter. “All done.”

“Great.” The clerk walked to the printer, picked up some documents, folded them and placed them in an envelope. When he returned to the counter, he handed Anne the envelope, then picked up her forms along with the folded bills. “You’ll hear from us as soon as we have results.”

He walked back to his desk. Anne glanced at Jack, and he hitched his head toward the door.

They walked out. As soon as they were back in the car he pulled out of the parking slot, and Anne rushed to rip open the envelope.

When he braked to wait for traffic to clear, she pressed her fingers to her lips and turned to him. “It’s the report on the paternity test.”

He searched her eyes for some sense of the contents of the report. “And?”

“Neil was my father, he’s listed as Test Subject #2 and, of course there’s mine, Test Subject #1. They used the noninvasive blood test to collect my sample via Mother’s blood. Then there’s a third set of DNA but no name, just Test Subject #3 .”

“We may not have the name, but we have the guy’s DNA. This is good, Anne. Maybe an important piece of the puzzle.”

He doubted that Mary Morton would have had the presence of mind to take a sample at the time of her assault. She’d likely sneaked a hair or a toothbrush from Langston’s home when she realized she was pregnant and paternity became a concern. Whatever she’d done, it worked.

Before Anne said more his cell vibrated. He picked it up, checked the screen to identify the caller. Blocked call . He tapped accept. “Brenner.”

“Mr. Brenner, this is Carin Wallace. I think we need to talk.”

“I agree.” His gaze caught Anne’s. “When and where would you like to meet, Ms. Wallace?”

“Why not now? I’ll be visiting my old friend Neil Reed at Crystal Lake Cemetery. See you there.”

The sound of the call ending echoed in his ear.

“We got her attention,” he told Anne as he pulled out onto the street. “She wants to meet.”

“Now?” Her eyes widened. “Where?”

“She’ll meet us at the cemetery where your father is buried.”

The shock on Anne’s face caused a literal pain in his chest.

Damn…he’d gotten way too close to this…to her.