Running on Empty (31 page)

Katou's Y-chromosome DNA, passed exclusively from father to son, showed he belonged
to a subgroup of the O Haplogroup nearly exclusive to east and southeast Asia. There
was lots of other intriguing stuff, but bottom line and clear as a bell: Ichiro's
biological father could not have been Dickens Hart.

The second report was Ichiro's maternal lineage record. Mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA)
is inherited directly from the mother. This printout showed a map of Europe on the
front page and, in the upper right corner, the box read 'Maternal Haplogroup H, the
colonists.' This time, AnnaLise read the pages twice to make sure she understood them,
coming to the same conclusion both times.

Ichiro Katou's other biological parent was of European descent.

Although there were no specifics about the man's maternal bloodline, the papers themselves
revealed something even more interesting: The results had come as a complete shock
to Ichiro.

'Haplogroup H' was vividly circled in red, not once but four times. The words 'most
common mtDNA in Europe' likewise. And, on an attachment headed 'DNA Analysis of Japanese
People' that looked like it was from a Japanese version of Wikipedia — but in English,
thank God — Ichiro had underlined 'HV', the only H haplogroup listed in a chart of
seventeen. The frequency of even that — just one tenth of one percent — was both circled
and underlined.

AnnaLise set aside the reports and looked at the sheaf of envelopes Tucker had accidentally
lifted from Katou's apartment. She didn't know anyone who could read Japanese, but
there might be a scholar at the University of the Mountain in Sutherton who did. Or
certainly somebody back in Wisconsin. Maybe Jan would know.

As AnnaLise got up to email her editor for the third time, she accidentally knocked
the bound envelopes off the table. Impacting the floor, the ancient elastic broke
and the letters scattered.

AnnaLise bent down to gather them. When she rose, she had the answer in her left hand.
An envelope showing a return address in Sutherton, NC. And the name above that return
address, as well.

Ema Sikes.

Ema Sikes.

The name Daisy had called Bobby's mother when she, Daisy, had one of her flashbacks.

Sikes was the maiden name — or perhaps the only
real
name — of the woman known as Ema Bradenham.

And, apparently, the link between the two men dead and the one wounded.

Rance Smoaks had been Ema's under-aged lover and the father of her son, Bobby.

Dickens Hart believed Bobby was his own — presumably because that's what Ema Sikes
had told him — and provided her child support. Or mother-and-child support.

And Ichiro Katou? He was also, somehow, Ema's child and still the piece that didn't
fit.

Why would Ema have killed him and stashed the murder weapon in the garage of Daisy
'Lorraine Kuchenbacher' Griggs, the only one who seemed to know Ema's secret involving
Rance Smoaks?

AnnaLise dug in a jeans pocket and pulled out the key she'd palmed when Daisy had
caught her rummaging through her mother's lingerie drawer. Coast now clear, AnnaLise
took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the landing, she stuck the key into the lock
of the gun cabinet.

It turned like both had been oiled yesterday, and AnnaLise's heart fell. She swung
open the door that had always secured three rifles and a revolver.

All four were there.

AnnaLise wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She lifted a deer rifle, and its butt
end left a mark in the film of fine dust on the cabinet's floor.

Dust undisturbed. Meaning the firearms hadn't been moved for a long time.

Timothy Griggs' guns hadn't been involved in the shootings and, therefore, his widow
hadn't been as well, no matter how loyally she'd kept Ema's secret all these years.
But now Daisy was headed toward that 'friend's' isolated home to tell her that the
jig was up. That the truth had to come out now, before 'anyone else was hurt'.

AnnaLise grabbed her car keys and purse before bolting out the door.

An SUV towing a trailer with a couple of standard 700-pound waverunners wheeled into
the boat launch. AnnaLise nearly went off the road trying to avoid it, but her fault,
as she'd been digging frantically through her handbag for the cellphone.

'Damn, damn, damn!' she yelled in frustration. Not only had AnnaLise almost killed
herself and the driver of the SUV, but she'd left the cell still charging in the kitchen.

At her own apartment, AnnaLise always stuck the phone in her purse, cord running up
and out of the bag into the wall, so she'd never accidentally leave the cell behind.

There, it was simply a matter of convenience.

Here, and now, it felt more like a matter of life and death. AnnaLise couldn't call
for reinforcements, couldn't raise Chuck or even his office.

The only saving grace: it was just past 3 p.m. Mrs. B, as AnnaLise continued to think
of her, would have been expecting her guests to arrive at any minute for tea. A confrontation
with Daisy would need to wait until the other 'old gals' had left.

Unless the confrontation had already happened.

AnnaLise dared not think about that as she turned into the long, private drive that
led to 'Bradenham' from the road. AnnaLise would have preferred to approach from the
lake path, as she had on her bike the last time she'd visited. That way, Mrs. B wouldn't
have advanced warning. Still, the cars of the other arriving guests should provide
some engine noise as cover, and the ladies themselves, hopefully, would serve as AnnaLise's
reinforcements in a pinch.

But, when she reached the house, there was no sign of motor vehicles except for Daisy's
Chrysler, parked crookedly in front of the detached garage.

AnnaLise's bad feeling grew even worse, if that were possible.

AnnaLise snugged the Spyder close to the house, but nose-out. 'All the better to make
a quick getaway,' daughter said to herself as she got out of the car.

It seemed to help, somehow. 'Herself' felt calmer.

'Don't need this,' she muttered, leaving her handbag on the passenger seat. 'But do
need this.' She delved and retrieved an envelope, sticking it in her back jeans' pocket
as she race-walked to the mansion's entrance.

Ignoring the urge to ring the bell or knock, AnnaLise tried the door itself. Oftentimes
in Sutherton, the host or hostess would leave the entry unlocked so someone didn't
have to come running each time a new guest arrived.

Of course that would require guests and a hostess and there were no signs of either.
Had Daisy been lured into a trap?

In obstinate consistency, the doorknob didn't turn.

So either you ring the bell or go around the back, AnnaLise thought.

'The back it is,' she said in a whisper as she descended the porch steps. Circling
the big house, AnnaLise heard voices. Female voices, but try as she might, she couldn't
distinguish even syllables, much less words or phrases.

Staying close to the base of the house so she couldn't be seen from above, AnnaLise
took the same outdoor staircase she had on Sunday. Climbing, the voices became clearer.

'I told you to stay away from that boy,' Daisy was saying. 'He's nothing but trouble.'

'I never should have told you,' Mrs. B said. 'It's just... I was just so alone, Lorry.'

'Not alone enough,' Daisy sniffed.

AnnaLise flattened herself on the steps and slowly raised her head so she could get
an ant's view onto the decking. The outdoor kitchen installation was visible, but
Daisy and Mrs. B weren't, unless they'd jumped into the hot tub, which AnnaLise thought
unlikely.

Mrs. B's voice again. 'I could say the same for you.' The conversation was coming
from the outer deck, cantilevered over the lake.

'I never lied, Ema. You told the wrong man he was the daddy of your baby.' Daisy's
tone was edging south.

'And just
what
was I supposed to do? Back in Florida, they would've put me in jail for having sex
with someone fourteen or fifteen. I didn't know what they'd do to me in North Carolina,
no matter how... mature Rance appeared. And besides, even if he was eighteen, he couldn't
have supported Bobby and me.

'Hell,' Ema continued. 'If anything, it's been the other way around for decades, what
with the money Rance's been extorting from me.'

Daisy, now, voice dead-level. 'But it's only part of your allowance from Dickens for
a baby he didn't father.'

A silence, as AnnaLise climbed onto the deck and, keeping low, crept toward them.

Then, Mrs. B: 'You could've told him.'

AnnaLise noticed that Mrs. B's cultivated timbre was slipping, replaced by the common
contractions she'd managed to eradicate.

'You think Dickens will believe me?' Daisy asked. 'He already believes
you
and he's seen little Bobby.' A pause and then, in a stronger voice. 'Besides, that's
not how I want things, anyway.'

AnnaLise had gained enough ground to see both women down the length of the walkway.
Daisy sitting on the big chaise longue chair, Mrs. B looming above her. Her mother's
body language told AnnaLise what she'd suspected from the sound of her mother's voice
and the fact that Daisy, but not Mrs. B, was speaking in present tense.

This was not 'today's' Daisy Griggs. It was yesterday's Lorraine Kuchenbacher.

Mrs. B said, 'Oh, it's so easy to be holier than thou when you have people who love
you and will take care of you.'

'I am lucky, that's a fact,' Daisy said, looking up and AnnaLise could see the light
that shone from her mother. 'I have Tim who loves me no matter what. And Phyllis,
too.'

'Ah, yes. Your "best" friend,' Mrs. B said, and the pique in her voice almost made
AnnaLise believe she, too, had reverted to a simpler time. One when you could have
only a single 'best' friend.

But Mrs. B just projected nasty, and grown-up nasty at that. 'You two were like...'
She crossed her fingers tightly and showed their union to Daisy. 'Lorry, you didn't
have time for somebody like me anymore.'

'I didn't have time for anything, what with the baby and Tim and the store. Besides,
you went away. Came back "married".' Inflection, if not finger quotes, around the
word 'married'.

'I
was
married,' Mrs. B protested. 'I had — and have — every right to say so.'

'Married?' Daisy asked, screwing up her face. 'To who?'

Whom, AnnaLise silently corrected. But then 'Lorraine' was young and could be excused.

Ema said, 'I don't like to talk about it.'

'You can't make things go away that easy. Try as you might to forget.'

'There's nothing to remember.' Mrs. B's posture was ramrod straight. 'I was married
and my husband died in a car accident.'

'Just like that story you foisted on Sutherton,' Daisy said.

'Except this was a long time ago, before I ever came here.'

'So you used your true story so you'd remember?'

'No, Lorry. I used my "true" story so I wouldn't forget the one I made up.'

'But that's the same thing.' Daisy looked confused.

'Not at all. I just didn't want to get tripped up with the "facts" of the lie, so
I stayed as close to the truth as I could. Right down to this.' She pushed aside that
hank of hair to show her scar.

'So you were in that accident, too,' Daisy said. 'The only thing you had to sprinkle
in was the "miracle" baby, because there wasn't one.'