Read Online Identity by Ingrid Thoft - Free Book Online Page B

Frank asked.
    “Her mother isn’t too concerned with her opinion.”
    “So why are you involved?”
    “Carl wants to attack from two fronts. He wants me to investigate less orthodox channels while he tries to push the case law. I’m not opposed to figuring out the donor’s identity. Tech-savvy kids are already doing that on their own. It’s the public crusade part I don’t like.”
    “Having kids used to be so much easier.” Frank took a sip of coffee. He was one of the few people Fina knew who drank coffee as an actual mealtime accompaniment, not just a pick-me-up or dessert in disguise. “Either you could or you couldn’t.”
    “It was simpler, but I’m not sure it was easier,” said Peg. “It wasn’t easy if you wanted them but couldn’t have them.”
    “Agreed, but now it’s so complicated.” Frank smiled at his wife. “We had it easy. The old-fashioned way.”
    “Oh, you know, I don’t need to hear this,” Fina said, sipping her soda.
    “We’re not your parents,” Peg said.
    “But you’re old enough to be my parents.” She gave them both a stern look. “The same gross-out rules apply.”
    Frank chuckled. “What’s your next move?”
    “I just talked to another single mother. Her kids share the same donor.”
    “Does she want to be involved?” Peg asked.
    “No, but one of her kids is interested.”
    “Sounds like a lot of reluctant witnesses to me,” Frank commented, sitting back in his seat. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
    “I know it. Enough about me. What are you two crazy kids up to these days?” Frank updated Fina on the recent influx of wild turkeys due to a construction project down the street. Fina offered to shoot one to shorten their Thanksgiving to-do list, but there were no takers. Conversation shifted to Peg’s work as a school nurse, a career that often rivaled Fina’s in terms of blood and gore. Peg was equal parts serene, loving, and tough, which made her perfect for her job.
    Fina helped do the dishes and then walked to the living room with Frank, where he settled into his easy chair for some TV and his nightly dish of vanilla ice cream.
    “I’ll pull out my notes on the Ramirez case. Maybe there’s something in there that will be useful, some background info on Renata,” Frank offered, digging into his dessert.
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “Keep in touch,” he said as a farewell and a directive. “And let me know if you need help.” Frank knew he’d done a good job training Fina, but he also knew that she flirted with danger on a regular basis.
    “Always,” Fina replied, smiling.
    •   •   •
    The Sanchez case was at a standstill until Fina got the DNA results, so she spent the next morning in a deposition and the remainder of the day working a car accident case. She photographed the intersection in question and conferred with an accident reconstructionist who did the math required in such cases. Accident investigations weren’t exciting, but there was something satisfying about collecting all the data and reaching a solid conclusion. Medical malpractice suits were notoriously gray, but physics don’t lie. There are rules that govern how objects move and interact with one another that leave little room for interpretation.
    Back home later, Fina gathered her notes, computer, phone, and a bag of miniature Reese’s peanut butter cups and settled on the couch. Her UMass contact had procured a list of graduates from the class of 1972, and she had an incomplete list from the high schools in Joliet. She typed her company credit card number into a site that promised a list of all males born in Joliet, Illinois, in 1951. Fina would end up with lists, lots of lists, but if there were any overlaps, she might be able to identify the donor.
    •   •   •
    She opened her door the next morning to Stanley, the doorman, who handed over a couriered package from the lab that had processed Tyler Frasier’s DNA sample. Fina