Page 28 of The Endowment Effect

You never knew these days. Maybe he was being set up? This kid, could very well be the pawn of a woman down on her luck, looking to cash in by claiming her kid was his.

Grabbing themselves a nice payday.

The girl walked back toward the door, and for a second, he thought she’d lost her nerve for the scam and was about to bolt.

Instead, she opened the door, reached for a backpack she had set nearby, and handed him a piece of paper she’d pulled from the front pocket.

At the top of the page of the printout, he noted the familiar logo depicting a DNA chain and below it, the name, GeneticallyNclined.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling light-headed as he reached for the back of an overstuffed chair to support him.

“We’re a match… genetically.” She added, “But more than just a match. Like a really, really strong match. Forty-nine-point nine percent. Meaning… you’re, ya know. My…” She cleared her throat and whispered. “… bio-dad.”

His eyes sliced over to hers.

Despite efforts to remain calm, his voice sounded raspy and asphyxiated. “I realize this is a rather insensitive question, given the circumstances, but who is your mother?”

The tears in her eyes finally spilled onto her cheeks, which she wiped away with the tightly held hem of her long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Birdie Shepherd.” She wiped another tear. “Her maiden name was Wellborn.”

He blinked slowly.

His absolute worst nightmare had now become a reality. A reality of epically nightmarish proportions. For there was only one person in this world he could say, without batting an eye, he truly and sincerely hated, and that duplicitous traitor of a woman was Birdie Wellborn.

But having a scheming, traitorous woman as a mother was not this child’s fault.

“Does she know you’re here? Does she know you’re safe?”

The girl nodded, using her other cloth-clenched hand to stem new tears. “I left her a voicemail letting her know I was on my way here.”

“And you’re sure she’s listened to it?”

The girl, Mia, was it? Sniffed, and forced a laugh. “Uh, yeah. She returned my message.” She pulled a phone, one you would buy from a Rite-Aid or Seven-Eleven, from the side pocket of her book bag and clicked the side button, powering it on. “I expect her to show up within the next couple of hours. She most likely flew from Boston to Savannah, grabbed a rental car, and is on her way.”

She slipped the phone in her front pocket, stuffed both hands in the back ones, and became mesmerized by her feet. “She’s going to be really mad. Like, throwing furniture mad.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said, recalling the woman’s explosive temper. “I recall a time or two,” or two hundred, “when she got really mad.”

Her eyes still glued to the floor, he asked, “How did you get here?”

“Amtrak.”

That answer served to conjure more questions. How did a girl her age manage to travel so far unaccompanied by an adult?

How old was she?

He did the math.

She had to be, what, fourteen? Fifteen at the most. Granted, she was tall for her age like her mother.

“How did you find my address?” He lifted the piece of paper. “Did this company give it to you?”

If so, he’d have to ring up Wayward’s city attorney on speed dial first thing in the morning.

“I found an old address of yours on Google.” She twisted her lips to the side. “By the way, you might want to call your foster mom to let her know I didn’t harvest your organs or rob you of all your gold and silver.”

He lifted his phone from the side table and sure enough, he missed a call from Bernadette, as well as a text message, letting him know of a young visitor she’d sent his way who reminded her of someone she knew. Adding a winking emoticon.

His attention was grabbed by the Chief loudly clearing his throat from the kitchen. He glanced back toward the burly man, who pulled his arms over his chest.

At first, he thought the man was indicating he was cold, or maybe suffering an angina attack, but then realized he was instructing him to hug the kid.

Ah, shit. Of course he should hug her.

She must be exhausted, both mentally and physically. Not to mention fearful from the impending doom of Birdie Wellborn flying into Wayward on her broom. A concerning factor for everyone involved.

Awkwardly he reached his arms toward her, looking as if he were about to pick up a heavy bushel of… something, and, as if taking matters in her own hands she launched into them, hugging him like her life depended on it.

Knowing her mother as well as he did. It probably did.

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