Page 62 of 1st Shock
"You tell him, sister," Sydney says, nodding her head. "Every man needs a primer when it comes to picking out an engagement ring."
"Now wait a minute..." Grey sputters, Matt echoing the same sentiment. "It's a lot of pressure, you know. You all have these little quirks about what you like and don't like, and how are we supposed to know? The size, the cut...it's enough to make anyone crazy. Definitely a no-win situation."
"Exactly why you shouldn't do it on your own." Sydney pats his arm. "You need an expert."
"I'm giving the police my statement at nine a.m.," Meg tells Matt. "After that you and I are going shopping. Bring your credit card."
Matt moans softly, rolling his eyes, but the grin on his face tells me he'll do anything—including spending a small fortune—to make TaylorandMeg happy. This is why I love him.
Meg goes to her office. Sydney and Grey leave. Matt takes the pizza boxes out to the trash and heads home for the night. The silence is deafening, but I leave Meg alone and catch up on paperwork. I hear her classical music come on and settle into my chair.
Thank God, she's still alive.
Shortly after ten, she wanders into my office and drops into a chair. "As much as I want to do the all-nighter, my head is killing me. I've had it for today. How about you?"
I know Avery—Elizabeth—isn't finished yet, but I'm glad Meg's willing to call it quits for tonight. It's been a long, damn day, and I'm more than ready to close up shop. My eyes are gritty with exhaustion, my limbs heavy with fatigue. "Thought you'd never ask."
We're heading out when a young boy wheels into the parking lot on a bicycle. "Who's that?" Meg asks.
She survived an attack by a serial killer earlier today and needs a relaxing bath and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. I could use the same.
“No idea.” I motion for her to stay at the car and grumble when she ignores me. We walk toward the kid and wait for him to shut off the bike. “Can I help you? Are you lost?” I ask.
Under the parking lot’s solar lights, he looks barely old enough to be legal on that bike. Curfew’s in an hour. “Are you Charlie Schock?”
The whole thing is weird and my gut tells me he’s some kid with a loose screw who saw the news about us and Billy Ray Wilson and wants an interview for his class project. “We’re closed. You can call our number and leave a message. We’ll get back to you.”
Or we won’t, if you’re a freak. Some days, I hate myself for being so paranoid, but it comes with the territory. I’m a former profiler for the FBI and I have a Ph.D. in forensic psychology. The list of freaks in my background is extensive.
“I left a message.” He gets off the bike, releasing the kickstand, and reaches into his jacket. “Several in fact. You didn’t return any of them.”
Gun. It’s my first instinct when his hand goes into that jacket and I back up, putting my hand on the butt of my own weapon. At the same time, I throw the other arm out to protect Meg.
The kid pulls out a folded piece of paper, not a weapon, and holds it out to me. “I need your help.”
The magic words. The ones I can never resist, especially when I move closer and see the pleading look in the kid’s eyes. Maybe the shadows under them are from the ghostly lighting, or maybe he hasn’t slept in a while either.
My fingers itch to reach for the paper hovering in the air between us. Meg moves so she is by my side, sizing up the boy and his paper.
“With what, kid?” I ask him, dropping my protective arm.
“I need you to explain this.” He unfolds the paper and holds it out again. “I’ve been over these tests results a dozen times, and I understand what they mean, but they don’t make sense.”
I see DNA markers on the sheet. There are three sets of them. “Why is that?”
He shifts his weight, those eyes still imploring me to take the paper. “I’m Ethan Havers. Do you remember me?”
It only takes a heartbeat for the name to click and then I look the boy over from head to toe. “Carl and Lily Havers’ son?”
He nods.
The first kidnapping case I caught as an FBI agent.
“Wait, Carl Havers, the morning talk show host?” Meg studies Ethan carefully. “I did the age progression on you.”
Fifteen years ago, Carl was an up and coming reporter for a local D.C. news channel. His good looks and winning on-air personality moved him swiftly into the anchor seat, where he’s been ever since. His wife, Lily, also a TV personality, gained wide audience appeal when she became pregnant with their first and only child.
“I chose to do my final project in Biology on DNA,” Ethan says. “Myfamily’sDNA. But there’s a big, big problem, Charlie.”
