Page 21 of 1st Shock
"Jesus," I finally say.
"It's crazy," she replies. "This guy has the nerve to just walk in."
I shake my head and refrain from telling her he could be a serial killer. Because, really? Why else would he be in my studio putting a blond wig on Emily right after we determined we have a serial killer with an obsession for blondes?
Less than a minute later, the camera catches the bill of the cap as the man pokes his head out. I am frozen, my gaze glued to the screen as more of him is revealed. Slowly, an inch at a time, his entire head, the one suddenly lacking blond hair, comes into view. He keeps his chin dipped, obscuring his face, but from this angle, I can't see any hair.
He once again checks the length of the hall—all clear—and steps from my office. He moves casually, as if he didn't just invade my personal space and defile my work.
Seconds later, he makes his exit and my rage spews again. Not only has he touched Emily, he came insanely close to Haley, our young, very pretty, and very blond assistant.
10
Charlie
I'm interviewing Yvonne Wagner, Juanita's biological mother, when I get a 911 text from Meg.
We had a break in. I think the killer knows we're looking for him.
She sent a photo, and I stare in confusion at the wig on the skull. I have to read the message three times before it sinks in.
...killer knows we're looking for him.
Holy crap.
"Is everything okay?" Yvonne is in her early sixties, her dishwater blond hair hiding the gray strands, her plump face showing very few wrinkles for her age. She insists she is Juanita's mother, and that the father was Polish.
"Fine." I fake a smile, trying to figure out how to excuse myself without blowing this meeting.
Yvonne's baby was illegitimate, and the father, Roland Kolosky, wasn't cut out for domestic life with a wife and child. He was in the Army and stationed overseas constantly—he was told about the pregnancy and wanted her to end it. She refused, but her parents forced her to give the baby up for adoption.
Apparently her aunt and uncle's hotel secretly catered to young, unwed mothers in the 1970s. Without saying it, Yvonne has hinted at the fact the mothers often turned over their babies to her aunt and uncle for private adoptions.
Private,illegaladoptions. There were two others who gave birth the same night, if her memory serves. All three were giving their babies up. What are the odds Juanita was switched with another baby that night?
Juanita should have her DNA tests back by now, but I haven't heard from her. The records of her birth are sketchy, and if there's no physical link, it solves this mystery while opening another—who are her real biological parents?
I thank Yvonne and rise, not finishing the tea she made for me. "I'm sorry, but something's come up. I have to run. Have you ever taken a DNA test?"
"Juanita wants me to," she says, "but I haven't yet. It's so..." She gives a shudder and plays with her cup.
"They're easy and quick. Would you be willing if I bring it by and walk you through it?"
She shrugs. "I know she's mine, so I'm not sure what it’ll prove."
Surely after meeting Juanita this woman can see her genes aren’t European Caucasian. People see what they want, I guess. Perhaps after finding her daughter—at least who shethinksis hers–after all these years, she's afraid of losing her again. "I'll be by tomorrow with a kit."
I say a hasty goodbye and text Meg that I’m on my way.Be there shortly.
Except I find JJ in Yvonne’s driveway, leaning on my car. “What are you doing here?”
His arms are crossed, his suit jacket bunching around his broad shoulders. “Juanita told me you’d be here, and I was in the neighborhood.”
Right. He’s six miles from his office, in a rundown suburb. I give him my resting bitch face. “I don’t have time to chat.” I shoo him away. “Meg needs me.”
“My attorney is two blocks over,” he says, sounding a touch cheeky as he proves he’s telling some version of the truth. His fingers skim my arm. “He has news.”
Lawyer. Divorce. My breath hitches, partly from his touch and because I once more feel hope.
