Page 48 of 2nd Strike
In this day and age, you don't get far with a fake ID unless you put some serious cash behind it to pay for premium services. Obtaining a scannable one, like a license, isn't difficult, but creating a background legend that passes serious scrutiny is tough.
The kid’s is even more sparse, which wouldn't be unusual due to his age, except for the fact I could find no match in any database to a Jon, born to Anita Baker, with his social security number under the date of birth he supplied to Meg along with his cheek swab.
The birthday could be false, but if so, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Anita is hiding something—and I have that tickle in my chest that tells me it's big.
I sent the information to Matt in order to share it with Taylor and get her onboard. She has access to a few more databases than I do, although a lot less time, to hunt down this lead. She’s focused on finding Ethan’s real parents.
My phone signals an incoming call. ID reads Lily Havers.
What does she want? An interview so she can rake me over the coals again on air?
“Who is it?” Meg asks.
“No one.”
She takes the phone from my hand. “By the scowl on your face, I doubt that.” Seeing the name, she gives me big eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
It goes to voicemail. I drum my fingers. A moment later, my phone pings, telling me there’s a message.
Oh goodie.
Meg ignores my request not to listen to it. At least she doesn’t put it on speaker, but when she turns to look at me, goosebumps form on my skin.
I reach over and take the phone away. I only hear the end, so I press the play button again.
Lily demands that we allow her to see Ethan. There’s a lot more flourish to it than that, complete with some choice name-calling, but that’s the gist of it.
I delete the message and set the phone back in the cup holder.
This morning, I'm running with the DNA that my feisty younger sister copped from Jon. In the backseat, Ethan and JJ share breakfast sandwiches and coffee, the boy now leaning his head on the window, eyes drooping as he finishes his food. From what Meg said, he didn't get much sleep. He's got earbuds in, but even so, the music from his playlist is loud enough for me to hear.
The rattle of the fast food bag grates on my nerves as JJ crumples it behind my seat. I lift my gaze to meet his in the rearview mirror just as Chuck’s electric car pulls into the nearly empty parking lot at 7:03.
My brain is humming, my blood, too. I didn't plan to bring everybody, but I didn't have any choice when they all piled into my BMW. This is the only thing any of us have right now, so even though we’re all exhausted, and maybe a little scared, we're here. Every one of us is supporting the other, a makeshift family with little else left to lose and everything to gain as we stick together come hell or high water.
“Everybody stay put," I say, grabbing the drugstore bag. Amazing how accessible these things are anymore. “I’ll be right back."
Nobody argues––must be a first. Drawing my shoulders back, I leave the car and stride to meet Chuck as he's unlocking the back door to the lab.
He hears my heels clicking across the pavement and glances over his shoulder at me. "Charlie Schock," he says, surprised. "You're up early. Something I can do for you?"
I give him a professional smile, too tired to really pour on the charm, and besides, Chuck swore off women after his divorce. “Yes, actually. I have a special request."
The welcoming expression turns wary. "Must be very special if you're here in person."
I hear a door slam behind me and see Meg on her way to join us. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, she couldn't stay in the car.
Ignoring her, I decide I might have to nip this argument in the bud before Chuck has a chance to start it. I hold up the bag. "I need an analysis ASAP and it's an extremely delicate situation, so I came straight to you. I can't trust this with just anyone—”
His eyes shutter and he raises a hand. “Look, Charlie, I saw the news. If this has anything to do with that kid”—he shakes his head—“I’m not getting within two miles of that."
I push my sunglasses to the top of my head, so I can look him in the eye. “This is strictly off the books. I will pay in full in cash right now, no questions asked, and your name will never be associated with the test."
Another head shake. He eyes Meg. “You know I can't get involved unless you go through proper channels.”
“Can’t or won't?" Meg asks. Her posture is relaxed, but she’s shooting daggers at him, and in her current state of pissed-off-edness, she looks like she's ready to go for his jugular.
Chuck opens the door, ready to bolt and lock us out. "I'd like to help, really, but there's no way I can do anything under the table, and with all the media coverage? If Family Ties became associated with this, we'd be in a shitstorm. Our reputation could get severely damaged. It could cost me my job."
