Page 88 of Murder on the Boardwalk

“That’s ridiculous. Of course, I do. She was my mother.”

“Not according to this. Your DNA matches up to your father, Rory Rossum Cole but not Rachel. Maybe Rachel found you in the cabbage patch.”

She yanked the report out of his hand. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m beginning to see why Graeme was so upset. What kind of genealogy place makes mistakes like this?”

“That’s it. Some technician in the lab probably got your sample mixed up with someone else’s. They make mistakes all the time. They probably compared the markers to the wrong genome. Or something.”

“Don’t they use census data, state registries, official documents, and even military records before they send out these results? They tested my DNA, compared it to DNA worldwide, and discovered I’m forty-eight percent English, forty-eight percent Scandinavian—heavy on the Swedish genes—and four percent Norwegian. What if this isn’t a mistake?”

“Why do you say that?”

She sent him a lethal stare. “First, my mother might’ve traveled a lot growing up, but I know she absolutely wasnotSwedish or Norwegian. The Brinell line goes straight through twelfth-century France. Or so the story goes. There’s a crest in the family drawing room back in Connecticut with ties to Louis VIII's reign. You know, Louis of France, the one they called The Lion. The one who invaded England and was proclaimed king for a few months before getting kicked back across the English Channel. After that, he made some bad choices and went on a Crusade. Anyway, Delia’s very proud of her French heritage. But I don’t remember my mother ever taking a strong stance one way or the other.”

“Sometimes people fake family crests,” Lucien said matter-of-factly. “Maybe the story is entirely made-up.”

“That’s true. I wouldn’t put it past Delia’s mother—my great-grandmother, the very socially conscious society matron—to claim ties to royalty without actually having any.” She studied the document in her hand. “These results don’t even mention French at all. English from Dad figures into play. But where did my Swedish genes come from, if not from dear old mom? Something is off in Denmark. Or, in this case, Sweden. It’s right here in plain English. They’re saying my mother wasn’t actually my mother.”

“Look, it’s late. We’ll figure this out together.”

“You’re the one who insisted on opening the envelope. I’m suddenly wide awake. Let’s start researching now.”

“No. You’re exhausted. I’ve got the headache from hell. And I just mopped up God knows what from the floor. I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep before tackling this mess. I need a clear head. So do you. It’s a mystery for another day.”

“But all kinds of scenarios keep running through my head. I must be adopted. That’s the only explanation. But if that’s true, why would the Brinells adopt a baby sired by a rock star? Why would Dad let Rachel adopt me in the first place? Why the huge custody fight over me later? How did I come to live my first eight years with a woman who’s not even my mother? Could my birth mother have died? See what I’m saying? I won’t sleep a wink tonight.”

“Sure you will. You’ve been on your feet all day. We’ve had a houseful of partygoers.” When she didn’t seem convinced, he tossed out, “Look, we solved a forty-five-year-old murder no one thought we could solve. Surely, we can track down the woman who gave birth to you. If it’s a mistake in the lab, we’ll straighten it out. You can always take another DNA test using a different company.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Join the club. It’s not the first time we’ve battled family issues, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Together we’ll find the answers. I promise.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you go on upstairs and take that shower? I’ll be up in a sec.”

“Don’t start a search tonight,” Lucien cautioned, getting to his feet. “Promise me.”

No search, she decided because she had other ideas. “I promise.”

Once he’d left the room with the dogs, she got up, unlocked the patio door, and went outside, taking her phone. She glanced around the backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Scott strolling through the grounds. If anyone could help her better understand her muddled past, it was Scott. Tonight, she’d even settle for one of his cryptic riddles. But the orchard was empty, with no ghostly figure curious enough to walk about this time of night.

Disappointed, she plopped onto the sofa and brought up the security app on her phone. The day before, Lucien had repaired the wiring on all the cameras Sam Brownlee had cut. She swiped through the camera feeds, looking for any anomalies. “Come on, Scott. I need to talk to you tonight. I’m sending out a plea for help. Was my mother not Rachel? How does that work? If Rachel wasn’t my mom, how did she end up with me? Why didn’t Rory intervene sooner? Why did he wait until she’d died to get custody? Does my grandmother know the truth? Does she hold the answers? Come on, Scott, I just need some help here. Thirty minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“The bat signal would work better,” Scott muttered from the other side of the patio.

“You guys and your superheroes.”

“Don’t give me that. Didn’t you ever fantasize about becoming Wonder Woman? You could use a little of that Lasso of Truth right about now.”

Brogan sputtered with laughter. “Right now, I could use anything that might extract a confession from somebody. Why do parents lie like that to kids? I’m not talking about Santa Claus. The truth about my mother might’ve been something Rory mentioned when I came to live with him.”

“You were going through enough trauma. Rachel did raise you. And your father was around when he wasn’t on tour. Don’t forget that.”

“But at no time did Rory ever say, ‘Hey girl, you’re real mother isfill-in-the-blank.’ It’s called honesty. If not for a DNA test, I might never have known this. These DNA tests might solve crimes, but they also reveal huge black holes in family deception.”

“Which brings up the question, are you sure you want to travel down that road? Because you might not like what you find. The truth isn’t always pretty.”

“But what’s the truth? I need to know.”

“Then expect to re-evaluate your entire childhood. Everything you thought was real is up for grabs. You could rewrite your entire history. Are you ready for that?”

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