Christy said nothing for a while, then nodded. "I'm sure I saw a hairbrush in one of her drawers after she left. Will that do?"

"Just fine."

"Then let's not waste any more time."

8

Jack sat in his car near the lake and waited. Christy had wanted to drive him over to her house to retrieve the brush but Jack had nixed that for the same reason he'd met her here today.

While waiting, he'd called Levy and told him Dawn's father was a no go but he'd have the girl's hair soon. Jack had expected an argument, with Levy wanting to put him off till tomorrow, but he'd jumped on Jack's suggestion to meet again at the Argonaut.

Levy seemed really into this possibility of a super-oDNA kid.

Jack closed his eyes and untethered his thoughts, letting them take random bounces.

Christy's panic attack… what had triggered it? His mention of the abortionist assassinations? Or something else?

She'd said she'd been "connected" to the two dead docs? What did that mean?

He let it all hang out and cooked up the wildest scenario he could imagine: Had they performed abortions on her and left her so wracked with guilt that she'd killed them?

No. He'd learned the hard way to judge character, and he just couldn't see Christy as a cold-blooded killer.

Then again, Levy said Thompson had told him Bolton was framed. What if it was true? What if Christy had been involved in the frame and now he was getting back at her?

But the cops and probably the feds as well had investigated her and cleared her. And, for whatever it was worth, she couldn't have known Bolton—he'd changed since going to the lockup, but not so much that she wouldn't recognize him as Jerry Bethlehem, beard or no.

He shook his head, baffled. This was making him crazy.

And making him even crazier was this idea of a super-oDNA kid. Clearly someone had designed this situation, but to what end?

And who? The mysterious Jonah Stevens? Who was Jonah Stevens? He pops up out of nowhere, does a Johnny Appleseed thing with his sperm, and dies—supposedly.

But did he die? With no body to exhume, who could be sure he was really dead, or even who he'd said he was?

He could have been Rasalom.

Jack shifted in his seat. Now there was a discomfiting thought: the Other-ness's agent on Earth spreading some sort of toxic seed in the hope of creating a child to—what? Wake up everyone's oDNA and start Armageddon?

Was that the Plan? Was that what Bolton had meant by the comin of the Key to the future … a new world?

By "new" did he mean Otherness dominated?

Rasalom had been mounting attacks on multiple fronts to bring the Otherness to this sphere. Was the super-oDNA kid one of those fronts?

Up ahead he saw Christy's car approaching. She stopped next to him, driver to driver, and rolled down her window.

"Got it."

She handed him the brush. He checked it and saw plenty of hair wound in the bristles.

"I only need ten or so strands."

Christy shrugged. "Take the whole thing. It's old."

He looked at her. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so. When do you think you'll have the results?"

"I'm going to get this rolling tonight. If all goes well I'll have some ammunition for you by tomorrow."

Her eyebrows rose. "Tomorrow? I've heard it takes weeks. Who do you know?"

He gave her what he hoped was a sly smile. "Low friends in high places."

9

When Christy got home and found Dawn's car parked in the driveway, her heart started thumping. Had she had a fight with that man? Had they split? She prayed the bastard hadn't hurt her. If he'd laid one finger on her—

She rushed into the house, calling, "Dawnie?"

Dawn came down the stairs and stood before her. She carried a full duffel bag. Moving more of her stuff out? She looked no worse for wear—no tears, no bruises, no quivering lower lip. She stared at Christy with a disappointed expression.

"I was totally hoping to get in and get out without a scene."

Christy's heart fell. "So, you're not back."

"I'm so not. Maybe someday I'll forgive you for trying to buy him off, but it's going to take a while."

Christy opened her arms and moved toward her. She wanted to take her little girl in her arms and beg her to come back, but Dawn sidestepped her.

"All right," Christy said. "I admit that was a bad move on my part. I regret it."

Dawn shook her head. "Why? Because it totally didn't work?"

Exactly!

But she couldn't say that. Could she say anything about the blood relationship? No. She wasn't convinced herself. She'd have to keep mum until she had proof. So she tried to lighten things up.

She held out her hand. "That's fifty cents you owe me."

Dawn simply stared.

Christy forced a smile. "Come on. Two totallies: fifty cents."

Dawn shook her head again. "That's so over, Mom. But speaking of money, where is it? Do you still have the cash?"

Oh, damn. She'd been so involved in this mess that she hadn't returned it to the bank. Tomorrow… tomorrow for sure.

"Yes. Why?"

"I want to see what it looks like."

Christy didn't know where this was going but decided to play along. Anything to keep her here a little longer. She hurried upstairs to her room, pulled the bag from the bottom drawer of her dresser, and returned to the first floor. Without a word she handed it to Dawn.

Dawn took it, reached inside, and removed a few stacks of bills. She stared at them, then looked at Christy with tears in her eyes.

"This is what you thought I was worth?"

"Oh, God, no! You're priceless to me. I thought that would be more than you were worth to him."

"But you were totally wrong, weren't you."

Christy remembered something Jack had said.

"Maybe he has another agenda more important than money."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

Dawn's face hardened as she crammed the bills back into the bag and shoved it at Christy.

"What? Another detective?"

"Yes. And he's learned a few things."

Dawn pushed past her on her way to the door.

"He'll have to go some to beat the first's whoppers."

Christy didn't want to say it but it slipped out.

"He's your uncle, Dawn!"

Dawn stopped and did a slow turn. She looked stunned.

"What?"

"He's my half brother. I never knew he existed."

Her face twisted. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Sadly, no, I don't. But it's true. Not only is he a dangerous, violent man and old enough to be your father, but he's your uncle!"

"You're just jealous because you have no man in your life and I do! And did you ever think that maybe I'm with a guy old enough to be my father because I never had one and my mother won't tell me a fucking thing about him?" She screamed the last words.

Christy felt her heart breaking but she kept her voice calm. They'd been through this a million times over the course of Dawn's life. Time to remove the sugar coating without telling her the whole truth.

"Your father has never wanted anything to do with you or me. What more do you need to know?"

Truth. He wouldn't even know of Dawn's existence.

"I'd like to hear that from him."

"Well, then, you'll have to find him. His last contact with me was before you were born. I have no idea where he is."

True.

She shook her head. "Why do you hate him so?"

"I don't. He gave me you."

True again.

Dawn's expression softened for a moment. "He married you and dumped you. That's totally cold, I know, but…"

More than cold—pure fiction. She'd never married and the supposed husband and father—Dennis Pickering—never existed. She'd never even met a Dennis Pickering, let alone married him.