Doyle.
'What bar?'
'I don't remember the name of the bar, Andy. It was in the Boston Grand Hotel.'
That was the hotel. It was mentioned in the dossier in front of Russell. Frankie had worked there nine years ago, when she was nineteen years old. A nine-month pregnancy and she'd have an eight-year-old child now. Which she had.
Frankie Doyle had lied to Andy.
'Her ex is a rough character. You're lucky he didn't find out back then.'
'No one can find out.' He sighed. 'Andy, I need to know if she's my daughter.'
'Why?'
'Because I passed a cancer gene on to Zach. I gave my son the cancer that's killing him. What if I passed the same gene on to this child?'
'But she's not sick.'
'Not yet. If she is mine, she might have the gene and she might become sick-next week or next month or next year. What if my scientists can prevent that from happening? They've made incredible advances in gene therapy, Andy. What if they can keep her from getting the same cancer as Zach?'
'But, Russell-'
'Andy, if she's mine, she might have a ticking time bomb inside her-what if we can prevent that bomb from detonating? What if we can save her from Zach's fate? What if we can save her life? Isn't that worth trying?'
'How?'
'DNA.'
'You want me to get her DNA?'
Russell nodded. 'We'll check her DNA against mine. Then we'll know the truth.'
'Russell, that's kind of creepy, sneaking over there and getting her DNA-assuming I can. Why don't you just talk to Frankie, tell her the situation, and ask to test the girl?'
'Because I haven't spoken to Frankie in nine years. She might be okay with that, she might not be. But what if she moved to Texas to extort money from me? She might want to go on TV and tell the world. Seems to me I should find out if the girl's mine first.'
'You're right. But it's still creepy.'
Russell stood and walked to the window. He stared out a long moment and then reached inside his coat.
'Oh, here, I brought these for you.'
Russell removed an envelope and held it out to Andy. He took the envelope and opened it. Andy couldn't believe what he was holding.
'Four tickets to the game tomorrow? UT versus Ohio State? On the fifty-yard line?'
'The school gave me season tickets when I built the lab on campus. I took Zach a few times when he was up to it, but I'm not a football fan.'
'Russell, Texas and Ohio State, they're both undefeated. Whoever wins will be number one in the nation. This is the college football game of the year. You could sell these tickets for twenty thousand dollars.'
Russell shrugged. 'Take Suzie and have fun.'
'I'll take my buddies.'
He couldn't wait to see their faces.
'There'd be a bonus, Andy.'
'For the game?'
'For the DNA.'
Andy looked again at the tickets in his hand. The best seats in the stadium for the biggest game of the year.
'Ten thousand.'
Ten thousand. Twenty thousand. The guy tossed those figures around like they were Monopoly money. Russell faced Andy.
'When Kathryn and I conceived Zach, I didn't know I was sentencing him to death. I'd know about her. If she's mine, Andy, and if she were to get cancer because of me, I'd have sentenced two children to death. How am I supposed to live with that?'
'She has red hair, Russell. Frankie's ex-husband does, too. You don't.'
Russell gestured at the photos. 'Frankie's hair is black.'
'So?'
'So red hair is recessive.'
'Which means…?'
'It means you must have two copies of the red hair gene to have red hair, one from your mother and one from your father. If only one parent has red hair, odds are their children won't have red hair. The other parent's hair color dominates.'
'So?'
'So the recessive gene skips generations. My mother did have red hair-Maureen O'Malley, that was her maiden name. Her red hair skipped my generation, but I'm a carrier and Frankie's Irish so she's a carrier. Put us together, and our child could have red hair. It's simple genetics, Andy.'
'Simple.'
'If she's mine. Get her DNA, Andy, and we'll know the truth.'
'So that's what you weren't telling me-that tracking down all these women was to find your child.'
'To find out if I had another child.'
'Were they really your girlfriends?'
'Yes… or at least I had a brief affair with them.'
'So you wanted to find out if they had children whose ages corresponded to the time of your affairs?'
'Yes.'
'The first six didn't?'
'No. Those children aren't mine, and neither are their siblings.'
'But this girl might be?'
'Yes.'
'And if she is your child?'
'I'll meet with Frankie, ask her to bring the girl in to the lab for testing. If she has the gene, we'll give her gene therapy. We'll save her life. What I can't do for Zach.'
Andy did not want Frankie Doyle's child to die.
'Okay, Russell, I'll get her DNA.'
'Thanks, Andy.'
'You want me to keep searching for the other women?'
'Yes. This girl might not be mine. One of theirs might be.'
They returned to the party. Andy got his Guitar Hero rematch with Zach; he lost again. But Andy's mind wasn't on the game; it was on Russell Reeves. And Frankie Doyle. And the girl. What if she were Russell's child? And what if he had given her the cancer gene? And what if his scientists could save her from Zach's fate? Wouldn't Frankie want that? Wouldn't she beg Russell to save her daughter's life?
It all made perfect sense.
That Russell wanted to obtain the girl's DNA to confirm that she was in fact his child-and thus might have the cancer gene-before going to Frankie.
That Russell wanted to find this child and save her life.
That he did not want to be responsible for another child's death.
Perfect sense.
But it didn't explain why those six other children were sick.
Mickey Doyle stared at the traffic ticket lawyer's business card. His cell phone number was printed on it. Mickey had almost called the lawyer several times, to ask if he had found Frankie and Abby. Three years, he had tried to forget them, then this guy shows up and now he couldn't stop thinking about them.
