“You got it,” says Eric.
Sam is staring at me with questions in his eyes when I get off the phone.
“Rape?” he asks. “Who was raped?”
“My mother,” I tell him. “Think about what we found in her medical records. When she was in Feathered Nest, she went to the Women’s Center at the hospital and got the morning after pill. But a little over than a month later, she was pregnant with me. Why would she take precautions to prevent a pregnancy one month and then happily welcome another just a few weeks later? Unless it was because the first potential pregnancy would have been with someone she didn’t want to have a child with?”
Sam’s face went pale.
“He wouldn’t have even had to attack her,” he muses. “In the dark, it’s possible he could have convinced her he was Ian.”
I nod. “Exactly. But she would have figured it out. And as soon as she realized what happened to her, she would do anything she could to avoid giving birth to a child that would inextricably link her to her husband’s brother. That picture we found of the two of them. We both thought it was my parents, not just because of his appearance, but also the way he was looking at her. He was obsessed.”
“But who is the second person?”
“Dean,” I tell him.
Sam looks over at Dean, who turns widened eyes to me.
“Me?” He furrows his brow and takes a step closer. “Why me? Why would you need my DNA?”
“Do you have that picture of your mother you showed me at the cabin?”
“I don’t have the paper, but I can find it.” He searches through his phone for a few seconds, then shows Sam the image of his mother smiling. “That’s her.”
Sam looks at me, and I give a single nod.
“You see it, too, don’t you?”
“See what?” Dean asks.
“Have you ever seen a picture of my mother?” I ask him.
When he says he hasn’t, I do a quick search through my phone and show him.
“They look so much alike,” he notes.
“Which is exactly why I always thought I was having a nightmare about walking into that apartment and finding my mother dead. It was your mother. Like I said, that man is obsessed with my mother. When she wouldn’t run away with him, he had to find a substitute. From the moment I saw you, I thought there was something familiar about you. But now I realize it’s not that you are familiar, it’s that you look like someone who is. Will you take the test with me?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. A few minutes later, Eric calls back and gives us instructions for where to go to get the test. The swab itself can be done right here in the hospital, then a tech from the crime lab will come to collect the samples and run the comparison test.
Dean and I go to the appointed room. The test itself only takes a few seconds, and as we walk out, he looks at me.
“What now?” he asks.
“Now, we wait.”
Bellamy calls as we’re making our way back up to Greg’s room.
“Are you still at the hospital?” she asks, sounding breathless.
“Yes. I was just heading back to Greg’s room. Why? What’s going on? Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No. I just need to see you. You’re not going to believe what just showed up at my house,” she says. “I’ll be up there in twenty minutes.”
My head spins as I make my way back to Greg’s room, where Sam waits for us. I didn’t want to risk Greg waking back up and us not being there. He stands up from the couch when we walk in.
“So?”
“The results could take a little while. They’ll rush it as much as they can, but the labs are notoriously busy,” I tell him.
“Then what’s wrong?” he frowns, coming up and taking my hands.
He squeezes them, and the warmth of his skin against mine makes me aware of how cold mine are.
“Bellamy just called. She says she got something in the mail today and needs to show it to me now. She’s on her way over here.”
The expression on his face exudes the same anxiety I’m feeling. I can’t imagine what she could have gotten that would be so urgent. Unless she’s become the next unwitting player in Catch Me’s game.
“I’m going to get coffee,” Sam says. “Do you want some?”
I nod and sit down on the couch. He offers some to Dean, who nods, but it seems like he doesn’t quite hear Sam. When Sam leaves the room, Dean walks over to the window and stares out over the city. I want to say something to him, but I don’t know what. It’s impossible for me to guess or even begin to understand what he might be thinking or feeling right now. I’m already struggling with my own thoughts. The new level of pure disgust and hatred I have for the man who shared my father’s childhood and at least part of his adulthood.
Sam comes back, balancing three cups of coffee and hands them out. We sip in silence. It feels like far longer than twenty minutes when Bellamy finally comes through the door. She’s carrying a large padded white envelope, and her face is bright and wind-chapped. I realize I didn’t even pay attention to the weather when we were running in after Greg called. A quick glance toward the window tells me the thought I had when I saw the white sky was right. Snowflakes have begun to drift down.
I get to my feet and cross the room to her.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I didn’t tell you because I thought you already had enough going on, but a few weeks ago, I got in touch with the funeral home again.”
“The one in Florida?” I ask.
She
