Page 15 of 2nd Strike
I hand the results to her. “Regardless, we have to either confirm or refute these.”
She glances down, but doesn’t take them. I return them to the table and withdraw the third kit. “The only thing we can do at this point is move forward. I need all three of you to retake the test and I will run them through the lab I use for investigation purposes. Once we have confirmation, we can proceed. My sister and I will handle this personally, and we will put all available resources into finding the truth."
Lily glances at Meg, back to me. She sets her jaw, notices the sketch. Her face softens.
“My sister and I run a private investigation service, and we will handle this at no charge to you, of course,” I continue. “Meg did the original age progression on Ethan, but that”—I point to the one Lily is staring at—“was done yesterday by another qualified—and unbiased—sketch artist who’s never met him.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe any of this. You had proof Ethan was ours when you brought him to us. What do you hope to prove by this little stunt?"
She's hanging on to denial pretty hard. Not that I expected less, but even the cold hard facts of the analyses seem to be lost on her.
She snatches up the sketch, rises to her full height, and shoves it in my face. "This is my son, I don’t care what you say, and I think it's time you leave. Be assured, the second you step out of my home, I’ll call my lawyer. I’m reporting you to the FBI, whether you work for them or not. Did you pull some ridiculous stunt like this and get yourself fired?”
The soft-spoken accent is still there, even if the politeness is gone. I’d be the same way if I was told Meg wasn't my sister, or if my mom and dad weren’t my biological parents. Luckily, I’ve had some experience helping people handle revelations about their families.
I use my most soothing tone. "I know this is a terrible thing to consider, Lily. I feel horrible about what happened, but we have to redo these and be sure.”
She hugs the sketch to her generous breasts and a tear slips from one of her eyes down her cheek. "I don't care what any results say." She looks at Ethan and Carl, her lower lip trembling. “He is mine and you can take your tests with you when you leave."
"But, mom—” Ethan starts toward her and she holds up the hand, a stop sign.
“Get out of my house," she says to me and Meg. Her voice is still sugary and genteel, even though there’s steel underneath. She punctuates her next statement with an artificial smile. “And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will sue you for everything you're worth."
8
Meg
It’s ten in the morning and I’m in my office aligning a prosthetic brown eye in my latest reconstruction when my sister bellows my name.
“Conference room! Matt! You, too.”
A meeting. Excellent. At this point, I can’t even guess what this might be. After being tossed out of the Havers’ two days earlier, we’ve heard zip from Ethan and my sister is on a tear.
Matt has spent the last forty-eight hours trying to avoid her. Me? I’m not so lucky. I live next door and after the lecture I got last night about proper garbage placement, I’m half-tempted to call JJ and tell him to get his fine self over there tonight and give her an orgasm. Maybe ten. Whatever it takes.
The man is a civil servant, after all.
“Meg!” Charlie screams.
Crap. “Hey! I’m in the middle of putting an eye in. Can you give me a second?”
Without a doubt, I’ll need meditation after this.
I set it, give it a quick study. “I’ll be back, Fred. Sit tight.”
Yes, I talk to the skulls.
Sue me.
I leave Fred and make my way to the conference room where Charlie has spread a bunch of files out. She’s pushed three chairs against the wall, something she does when she wants freedom to slide back and forth behind the table. She’s currently arranging the files in some sort of order while Matt watches.
His arms are crossed and he meets my gaze with a she’s-bonkers look.
After this, I’m putting the emperor on speed dial.
For now, I lightly knock on the table. “What’s this?”
Charlie doesn’t bother to look up. “Everything on my old laptop regarding the kidnapping.”
