Bloodlines

Prolog

Rachel's grip tightened on the phone. People have died to keep this secret. People very close to me. You can't go there.

But we can..., said the voice.

No, you can't, she interrupted quickly. No one can. It's the only leverage I have over those people. They won't think twice about pulling a trigger. Everyone I care about would be a target. It can't happen. Stand down.

I can't guarantee we can do this without you, the voice said.

I haven't survived this long by taking chances. It's been almost twenty years. I like my odds better if we don't stir up hornets. I've already lost too much.

And they are responsible. You could make them pay.

At what price to me? The timer went off, and Rachel smiled. Don't bother tracing this line. It's a burner, and I'm a thousand miles from home.

She disconnected. The timer went off again a few seconds later, and she turned it off as well.

She packed the equipment back in her bag, and left the bathroom stall, dropping the phone in a trash bin as she walked to the departure terminal. The flight from San Francisco to Baltimore was familiar enough by now that she slept dreamlessly through almost the entire trip.

On the limo ride home from the airport, she phoned her security sentry. Any movement while I was gone? she asked as she scanned the motion capture video from the cameras around the house.

A package came for Miss June, the man said. It checks out. A book, looks like.

She's expecting a yearbook. I won't say from which school. Not on an open line.

No need. The package had a return address. Congratulations.

She earned it. I didn't even have to endow a library wing. The car arrived at the gate, and Rachel entered the code on her phone. I've arrived, she said to the phone.

So I see, said the sentry. The phone disconnected, and Rachel stepped out as the driver opened the door. She handed him a large bill, and thanked him, and walked up the wide steps to the front door. The camera recognized her face, and the bolt on the door made a loud click, and she opened the door, dropped her bag in the hallway, and dropped her shoes a few steps farther. The door closed behind her with a heavy click, and she was finally home.

-oOo-

Chapter One

I have news, June said, gesturing towards the laptop computer on the desk.

Me first!, Marsha said excitedly, ignoring the ominous tone in June's voice.

OK, June said, swiveling her chair to face her roommate.

Yucatan! Marsha said. Mayan ruins. Sandy beaches. Jungle. The whole winter break. And you're invited. If you want. Mom made me promise to tell you. We rented a villa. Right on the ocean. Our own private beach. We could get all-over tans.

June examined her roommate's face for several seconds.

Will your brothers be there?

Well, yeah.

So maybe no nude sunbathing. June turned off her computer and put it into a foam-padded lower drawer in her desk. She lowered her voice and walked over to Marsha. My mom would have a fit if I went to Mexico.

Marsha's version of a lowered voice was still louder than June would like. You really think she's listening through your computer?

She has complete remote access. I showed you the tracker she put on my phone. She knows everywhere I go, everyone I call. She's completely paranoid.

Marsha was dismissive. She's just a control freak. Sarah's mom is like that.

You don't know her, June said. You haven't lived your whole life with it. She goes ballistic. It's like I'm a baby goat in a world full of lions to her.

You're her kid.

Well, duh. But your mom doesn't treat you that way.

No, I mean the baby goat. They're called kids.

June looked at her friend. That's what you focused on? I describe my living hell and you only hear cute baby goat?

I like goats. But really, you should come. To Mexico. It's educational. You could tell her that. Just not the naked beaches and all the cute guys.

That part she could handle. If I told her I was having orgies in the apartment she'd just send me a crate of condoms. Then she'd tell me which ones had criminal records and what blood types they were. It's like living with the Stasi.

The what?

The East German secret police. Back in the day. Never mind. But the idea that I'd be somewhere she couldn't control, meeting people she couldn't check up on, that would send her up a tree. She'd panic, and who knows what the results would be. It can be very embarrassing.

Marsha shook her head in sympathy. She should just take a Xanax or something.

Are you kidding? She doesn't even drink. She has a huge wine cellar, bottles worth thousands of dollars, all climate-controlled and everything. But she doesn't touch a drop. It's all for investment purposes. And sometimes entertaining, but she doesn't do a lot of that. She'll bring a bottle when we visit people, but she won't let me tell them how much it cost. Which is like, an arm and a leg or something. There's nothing in the cellar worth less than a thousand, I'm sure of it. I looked some of them up once.

And nobody notices? My dad's into wine. He'd know if something was a thousand-dollar bottle, I'm sure.

It happens, June said. Once or twice. She just said it was a gift from one of her art collector people who didn't know she didn't drink. Like, easy-come, easy-go, no biggie. Or it was left over from an auction for one of her pieces. She's super-private about money. One of her many taboo subjects.

Like what?

Taboo? Like anything at all about her family. Not me, but parents, siblings, cousins. Totally off-limits. She clams up and sulks, or she blows a gasket if I even mention it.

You don't know anything about your grandparents? Nothing?

I assume she was adopted and doesn't know anything herself. Which is why she's so sensitive. Or maybe her mom blew up a hospital in Syria as an FSB agent or something. Everything's a state secret.

You said your dad... Marsha didn't finish.

Yeah, well. She had me when she was 17. Well, 18 technically, but knocked up at 17. I assume the guy didn't know or didn't want me. But I can't ask. Totally off-limit subject.

People used to be really ashamed of teenage pregnancies.

I might buy that if it was just 'who's my daddy?'. But it's the whole thing. Like maybe incest or something.

Really?

Who knows? June said, but then lowered her voice even more, and almost whispered But actually, I do know. At least that it's not incest. Come down to my car.

She got up and motioned for Marsha to follow here to the door. Silently, Marsha followed, and as they walked down to June's car, she whispered She can't hear us here.

June laughed. My other computer is in the car. The one mom doesn't know about.

I see, Marsha said, not whispering any more.

I did the DNA thing, June said. Spit in the little tube and send it off to a lab. So, I know my dad isn't related to mom. But there's something else.

She unlocked the car and reached under the seat for a small notebook computer. She opened it up, and brought up an email window.

You have new DNA relatives, the email said.

Whoa! Marsha sighed. That's like...

Something she'd completely freak out about, June finished. She can't know. You can't tell anyone. Not your mom, your brothers, not anyone.

Cross my heart, Marsha said.

I mean it. My life would be hell if she found out.

So, who is it?

I don't know, June said. I've been terrified to make contact. It's a cousin. But you can't tell if it's mom's side of the family or dad's side. But it's a guy. I mean, he's a guy. The guy's a guy. I have a cousin.

What are you going to do?

Shit! I don't know! I mean, what if I contact him and he's part of some secret spy family and he tells mom? Or some cult she was in, and they try to come kidnap me?

Really?

Of course not. But I have to be careful. So that mom never knows. Because they really might have a way to get the information back to her. Like call for an Amber alert or something. Then she'd know.

You've really been thinking about this. How long have you known?

All weekend, while you were back home. I was dying to tell someone, and scared to death about telling anyone. All kinds of things were going through my head.

Marsha was silent, reading the email again, and looking at the page of DNA information. We could do a search. It says 'pjrobbins'. We could look him up on the Internet.

Did that. There are zillions of them. Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, I collected a huge list. Threw out the ones that were clearly female. Still a huge list. I considered writing a computer program to narrow it down. But trying to find birthdates and genders from all those different formats would be a real pain, and it might take as long to write the program as it would to do it by hand. And even then, there'd be a list, not an individual.

So, what then?

I wait to see if I get more DNA relatives showing up. Maybe one of them will have a unique handle, or an actual name.

Marsha was uncharacteristically silent for a few moments. It seems so weird to me. You have a cousin you never knew about. I know all my cousins. We grew up together. We played together at each other's houses. We went on vacations together. And here's this guy you don't know anything about, and suddenly your family just grew another person.

My family is just me and my mom.

And now your cousin. And who knows how many other relatives will pop up? He has a family, right? So, you have uncles and aunts and more cousins, and grandparents.

Grandparents.

Yeah. That is so weird to me, not knowing your grandparents. And your mom was so young. You probably have all four grandparents still living. Man, think of all the Christmas presents you could have had.

June scoffed. That's where your head goes? Christmas presents?

If you had grandparents, you'd know.

All those people. It's too many. Someone would blab to mom. She'd find out. I have to find out who this guy is without letting him know I'm in the family.

Marsha leaned in to look at the information on the computer. What do we know about the guy?

His handle. And his birthdate. He's 22.

Is he cute?

How would that help? And there's no picture.

I just thought you could introduce me. I like dating guys who can buy booze. She giggled.

Get real. I'll probably never meet him. We know a handle and an age, that's it.

And he's a relative.

How's that help?

Well, Marsha said, looking at the computer. We could search for his last name and your last name in the same page. Robbins and Clemson."

June looked at her friend in surprise. That's brilliant! It never occurred to me. She sat down in the car with the computer in her lap and typed. Of course, it comes up with Clemson University. Filter out university. Filter out football. Filter out tiger.

She typed some more. Ah! Here we go! There's a Baskin-Robbins on Clemson Avenue in South Carolina.

Marsha smiled. That should definitely help. We could fly there and order a sundae and wait for him to walk in. He's probably been looking for me his whole life and doesn't even know it. She absent-mindedly wrote PJROBBINS over and over on the telephone memo pad, staring at the words, thinking.

I'm picturing some guy with greasy hair and a beer gut under a dirty T-shirt who works a cash register at a gas station, June said. She typed some more. Filter out South Carolina.

June scanned the output for a while, then closed the lid of the computer. It seemed like a good idea, but it's all just crap. I need to think this through. Find another way.

Both of them were silent for several seconds.

Marsha reached for June's wrist and took hold of it firmly. I know just the thing to take your mind off of it.

Not your theater party, June said.

Thespians, Marsha corrected. It'll be fun. You never go anywhere. I've known you all quarter and I never see you having fun. You can meet people. Guys. Geeky guys, like you, only not with computers.

I'm not going out drinking with you.

Good! You can be the designated driver. Make sure I get home safe.

Safely.

What?

Adverbs. They're a lost art, June said.

You will definitely fit in with this crowd. They are your people. You just don't know it yet. Pretty please? I need a wingman. Wing girl. Wing woman. Whatever. Samantha is still in Bermuda. Besides, someone there might know a way to find your cousin.

No! We can't tell anyone! Promise me it wasn't a mistake to tell you.

I promise! But you have to come to the party.

Is that a threat? June disarmed the question with a smile.

Never. But you're coming, right?

Since it's so important to you, yes. June paused a moment in thought. But I have to prepare.

It's casual. You don't have to dress up.

Not that kind of preparation. My mom has to think I'm home studying. I need to start a long video lecture on my computer, get my other phones, that kind of stuff. June started walking back to the apartment.

Your other phones?

We'll leave the phone my mom knows about in the apartment. I'll take the phone she doesn't know about in my purse.

She gave Marsha a conspiratorial look, and whispered. And, I also have a tiny little phone I can hide anywhere.

Marsha whispered back. Why?