“Seven,” Mann corrected. “Just got another one ID’ed. One of the girls remembered enough of an address to track it back to a real apartment and found a case there. Couple of junkies in Vermont skipped out of an apartment and left a baby behind. Took a while before they figured out there should have been two kids. Locals suspected they’d murdered the kid or it died and they buried it, but nothing was proven. Both junkies are dead now, but they’re tracking down that baby so they can see if there’s a match with our girl.”
It was sad that Mel felt relief at finding out one of those girls had lived that life and had nothing to return to, but she was relieved. At least that girl had a history she could put behind her.
“So, that’s even better. That’s half of them and still only one possible clone. And we don’t know if she’s a clone, really. We need that original case material.”
“That’s problem number one, but it might work to our benefit because I think that’s the primary reason the feds haven’t snatched this case and started leaking details. They want to be sure they’ve got a clone.”
“Then how is that a problem?”
“New Jersey didn’t exactly handle the materials to lab standards. The grant covered about a thousand cases worth of samples. That’s a lot of old cases to go through. They keep all the old stuff in a big warehouse with files and evidence going back well over a hundred years. Instead of bringing the selected cases out of the warehouse and into their lab, they used a portable collection system right inside the warehouse.”
“What’s a portable collection system?”
“A cart with a bunch of bags and swabs on it.”
Mel rolled her head back and groaned. “So none of the samples were collected clean?”
Mann shook his head. “No, not even close. And now they can’t find the box in the warehouse. Apparently, the collection teams just went down the rows and opened boxes with the right numbers on it. They didn’t exactly take a lot of care. They’re looking, but it’s going to take time.”
“This might be good, though. If they can’t verify Baby as matching some old DNA that couldn't possibly be hers unless she was a clone, then the feds won’t want the case.”
“True, but it doesn’t help us with Baby either.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“What’s the second problem?” Paul asked. “You gave us the first and the last, but not the second.”
Mann gave a disgusted snort. “The Chief. He’s got visions of sitting in that Mayor’s chair swimming in his head and he’s pretty eager to see this case go very big and make very big headlines. I’ve got that though, at least for a while.”
“Gross,” Paul said.
Attention shifted back to Mel and she knew the Captain was right. Time wasn’t on their side anymore. Patience was good for Baby, but maybe not for her case. “I’ll keep at it and I’ll do my best to hurry it along, but I’m not going to force it. I’m just not.”
You’re Not Thinking What You’re Thinking
Mel waited for Baby in the foyer of the group home. She was early, and Baby was still in her mandatory group session. While she waited, she tried to rub some of the grime off her splint. It was amazing how much of it marred the bottom of the plastic cast. It came from resting her arm on things, and it was only now that she realized how much nastiness she must come into contact with on a daily basis.
Unclipping the splint so she could go after it with a wipey from the little stash in her purse, she braced herself for the pain. As her fingers flexed inside the fleecy sock, the pain didn’t come. Some stiffness, yes, but no pain.
Surprised, she tugged off the sock, then stared at what she saw. Instead of swollen knuckles and an alarming array of bruises, there was only the faintest touch of yellow where the worst of them had been. No swelling at all. She flexed her hand into a gentle fist and again, no pain, just the loosening of muscles held too long in one position.
How was this possible? The doctor at the ER had told her it would be a month, maybe six weeks depending on how far her tendons had been stretched from the dislocation. It had only been a few days, not even long enough for her to have her follow up appointment with the police sponsored medical clinic.
Her thoughts flashed back to the lemonade and Baby grabbing her splint as they ran for the car. The girl’s hand had been icy cold from the drink she shifted from one hand to the other when she touched Mel’s fingertips. Had it been then that the ache faded? When exactly had she stopped noticing the ache? She’d felt it trying to juggle the two drinks, but after that…had she?
No, it wasn’t possible. She was being silly. Such a thought was ridiculous.
And yet, it was there. The green flash and the doctor. The ambulance that nearly clipped their car as they left the park. No, it wasn’t possible.
She was still examining her hand in confusion when the beat of rapid footsteps down the stairs made her look up. It was Baby, running down the stairs and smiling. She was wearing another of her new outfits and she looked as happy as any other kid her age.
“Your hand is all better?” she asked by way of greeting, nodding at the open splint in Mel’s lap.
Mel looked back down at her hand and murmured, “I guess it is.”
Crossing the foyer to stand in front of
