Garage Sale Stalker (Garage Sale Mysteries) (31 page)

CHAPTER 73

B
rimming with purposeful
resolve
the next morning, Jennifer propelled her finally-returned van into the parking lot at the Tysons Corner office of her temporary job. Today was the day! Her hunch probably would lead nowhere, but she wanted to follow through, whatever the direction.

Hurrying inside, she shuffled through papers on her desk to see if anything required immediate attention. Finding only routine tasks for the day ahead, she removed an envelope from her purse, eased it into her pocket and asked the receptionist, “Have you seen Ronnie this morning?”

“I think he’s in the kitchen getting coffee,” she said.

Finding him there alone, Jennifer began, “Hi, Ron. Are you in a good mood today?”

“Office managers are always in a good mood. You know that. But you seem like a lady with something on her mind. I hope it’s me!”

Jennifer brushed aside his usual harmless flirting. “Of course you are, Ronnie, but today so is something else.”

“Go on…”

“In all the years we’ve worked together I’ve never before asked for a favor, but I wonder if you might do a special one for me now.”

Attracted to Jennifer since the first day they’d met at the office and ever hopeful of escalating their relationship past business to personal, Ronnie saw this as a possible way to earn payback. “What do you have in mind?” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Now Ron, be serious! I need a DNA sample tested against any match in the system. Of course, I’ll pay for it but I want the results to come straight to me rather than going through the usual office channels. Do you think that’s possible?”

“As they say in New ‘Joysey,’” he adopted his best Mafia persona, “we wouldn’t do dis fuh nobody else in da whole world, but fuh you, sweetie!’” He chucked her under the chin.

She laughed at his outrageous performance. How could you not find Ronnie amusing? She handed him an envelope. “Thanks, Ron.
Y
ou’re
the sweetie to do this for me! Will it take long?”

He continued his nasal Jersey accent, “Da DNA test or your seduction?”

She nudged his arm, “Ron!”

“Normally, two days is the fastest, but we recently bought a new technique which processes the information in a matter of hours. It’s just as accurate and will eventually eclipse the previous methods. Right now, we’re one of very few companies using it. Let me see how busy we are. I put your desires ahead of all others. Will you do the same for me?” He did the eyebrows again. She had to smile at his parting comment as he whisked the envelope out the door. “Just remembuh, Doll, yuh
owe
me now!”

“Oh, Ron, and there’s something else. If… if there is a match, this needs to be confidential. I’m smart enough to know you’ll have a look, but promise me this will stay between us?”

“I like the thought of having something between us.” Again, the eyebrows.

“I’m serious about this. Will you promise? Please, Ronnie.”

“Okay, I promise.”

Anticipating the test results made her jumpy all day. The probability of no match outweighed any alternative, but she wouldn’t feel calm until she knew. She looked at her watch: almost the end of the day. She’d already cleaned off her desk and gathered her belongings to leave when Ronnie popped into her office. “I did your test and surprise, surprise!”

She held her breath!

“We got an exact match.”

Jennifer jumped from her chair. He returned her envelope plus the paperwork with lab results. She read it slowly, gasped and then read it again to be sure. “Oh!” she cried, still clutching the paper as she fell back into her chair.

All seriousness now, Ronnie said, “Would you like to tell me what this is all about, Jen? You can guess that I’m pretty curious.”

“Ron, I… I will, I promise, but not yet, because I need to find out two more things to understand this myself.”

“And when might that be?”

“If I had the day off tomorrow, I think I’d have the answer.”

“I see. Well, that would be a second favor!” More eyebrows. “And now that I look closely, you do, ah, look rather pale and we don’t want you to infect the rest of the staff with your, ah, contagious germs. Yep, you better take a sick day tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ronnie,” she kissed his cheek. “You’re the very best!”

As she left the office and hurried down the hall toward her car, he called after her good-naturedly, “You’re right, I am.”

Driving home, she tried to fit this DNA information into place by recalling details overheard during past conversations. She longed to discuss this with Jason, but he’d doubtless regard this as just another one of her “far-out ideas.” No, she would unravel this herself and present it to him as a done deal!

Finding no one at home when she arrived, she searched through the phone book and, putting her finger on a particular number, called for an appointment in McLean the next morning at 9:00 a.m.

CHAPTER 74

“M
rs. Shannon? Please
come
in,” Greg Bromley held the door and motioned toward his comfortable office.

She thought he might recognize her name from newspaper reports about the case, but apparently not. When they both were seated comfortably and exchanged superficial small talk, he asked, “What can I do for you today?”

“Mr. Bromley, I am the woman who recently escaped from Ruger Yates.”

Bromley did a double-take, blanching at her significant role in this case that plagued him with such remorse. He apologized for failing to identify her name immediately.

“I… I wonder if you could help me with a legal problem.”

“I’ll certainly try. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Imagine you discovered conclusive DNA information showing that two people with no idea they are related are actually father and son. Imagine how this information would shock each of them. Imagine how this knowledge would change their lives. Legally, what would be your responsibility?”

“This sounds more like an ethical question than a legal one. You have no legal responsibility to share what you know. Objectively, whatever furthers the truth is generally considered positive. Subjectively, not everyone is brave enough to reveal such a truth or to accept it if on the receiving end. So, it’s a judgment call. You might ask yourself if the good accomplished by the news outweighs or balances the bad. But that’s another subjective judgment call.”

“Is DNA in national data banks considered public knowledge, like fingerprints?”

“Mmmm… for the most part, yes.”

“For example, is your DNA in the national data bank?”

Bromley’s eyes narrowed. You heard just about everything in a law office, but where was this going? This woman seemed rational enough but who knew better than lawyers that what you
thought
you saw wasn’t always what you got? He studied her a moment, admitting she’d piqued his curiosity. What did he have to lose? Why not humor her along?

“Yes. I belonged to the National Guard for many years. At one time they sent me abroad as legal advisor with a task force on a
ver
y
sensitive issue which I can’t discuss. They took our DNA to identify our remains if… if things didn’t go well.”

“I see. Thank you for explaining that.” She changed the subject. “I think you’ve already met Detective Adam Iverson, the policeman who solved the Yates case.”

“Yes. Pleasant, bright young man.”

“He is engaged to my daughter Hannah and so is already considered part of our family. As her fiancé, he visits our house often. When I first noticed his missing little finger, I thought of the mummified child’s finger I found while captured in the cellar at the Yates house. I knew it must be coincidence, but that fact nagged at me. Adam was adopted at age six. My daughter told me Adam had no memories of his first six years but happy memories after his adoption. He and his adoptive mother live in downtown McLean now, but when I learned their original family home was only a few miles from the Yates property, my hunch grew. I happen to work part-time at a forensic lab where DNA samples are tested. One day when Adam borrowed a comb at my house, I collected the hairs he left in it and had them analyzed at the lab. Adam is the son in the situation I asked you earlier to imagine.”

Bromley sat forward in his chair. “Six or seven is just about the right age when Ruger’s older brother disappeared. So you think that brother and Adam may be the same person? But you said you had DNA matches for a son
and
his father. Wouldn’t that prove conclusively it’s Adam?”

She had his riveted attention. “You’re right, DNA doesn’t lie. Hold onto your hat. Adam’s DNA exactly matches
yours.”

Bromley stared dumfounded, trying to process this staggering implication. Absolute silence filled the room as he struggled to absorb her information and she to shape her next question. She knew what she needed to learn but not how to approach a stranger for such personal information.

“Can… can you think how that DNA match could be possible? For you to be his father?”

Looking stunned, Bromley finally cleared his throat and stammered, “I…I guess it
might
be possible, though… just too incredible to believe. Are you certain about the results?”

Jennifer pulled the report from her purse and pushed it across the desk to him. He read it and then re-read it as cautious acceptance supplanted his initial doubt at this extraordinary piece of information.

Taking a deep breath, he began, “Wendey and I were together for six years and engaged for four of them. We were very much in love. Yes, we were intimate. But this,” he closed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it, “...this information puts a whole new, wrenching twist on what happened… why she ran off with Yates. Oh god, my poor Wendey! I can scarcely believe this is true, and yet it explains the greatest unsolved mystery of my life. All these years I couldn’t imagine why she rejected me for that awful man. Now, thanks to you, I… I begin to understand.”

“Mr. Bromley, there’s more. Adam’s parents told him they adopted him from an agency when he was six years old. If that’s true and she has records to prove it, then we need to figure how that meshes with what we know. I think we need to visit Adam’s adoptive mother to learn more about his adoption.”

“You’re right!” He reached for his phone. “My secretary can call her here to the office and…”

“Is that really the best way?” Jennifer asked quickly. “Our questions are bound to upset her, maybe make her angry or defensive. Won’t we need her cooperation to get at the truth?”

“We could subpoena the adoption records if necessary…”

“If necessary, yes, but think long term. I don’t know how you feel, but if you want to become part of Adam’s life, being on good terms with his adoptive mother might be more important than forcing the truth out of her with legal muscle.”

“Obviously, you’ve given this some thought. What do you suggest?”

Jennifer explained her plan.

CHAPTER 75

M
rs. Iverson
felt uneasy.
Why would her son’s prospective mother-in-law call this morning, asking to drop by the house to meet her today? And why would she bring a friend instead of her husband?

True, Adam had brought Hannah to the house to meet her after the two began dating, and only yesterday he excitedly told her about his accepted marriage proposal of the previous night. Yes, he mentioned wanting the parents to meet soon, which his mother agreed was a good idea; but wouldn’t the five of them going out to lunch or dinner be a likelier venue for getting acquainted?

This didn’t make sense, especially since Mrs. Shannon said the friend was an
attorney
. She reflected again, as she had so many times during the four years since her husband died, that if only he were here, he’d know what to do. She missed him. She missed his experience and support in challenging situations like this. In fact, she missed the companionship of a man in her life. But that situation wasn’t likely to change.

Startled when the doorbell chimed, she curbed her apprehension to greet them at the door with what she hoped passed for a confident smile. After introductions and offered refreshments, they sat in the living room, where the opening chatter flowed more easily than Mrs. Iverson expected. Despite her anxiety at this improbable meeting, she relaxed enough to warm a little toward this pleasant woman and the charming attorney accompanying her.

As for Bromley, an attraction toward Mrs. Iverson bloomed the moment he recognized her disarming resemblance to his Wendey… Wendey as she would look now had she led a normal life and aged gently instead of as the broken pariah she became.

Oblivious to their rapport, Jennifer concentrated on how best to uncover the needed information. As the conversation grew ever friendlier, Jennifer gently guided the talk toward the clues that prompted her hunch and the subsequent actions leading her to the DNA discovery and Bromley.

Picking up the story’s thread, Bromley described his youthful romance with Wendey and subsequent involvement with the Yates family, which included Wendey’s insistence that her older son “disappeared.” Jennifer noticed he slipped into that conversation the fact that he’d never married.

Together, they showed her on the northern Virginia map the close proximity of the Yates farm to the original Iverson home and that the final step in finding the truth hinged on Adam’s adoption.

“For instance,” Jennifer began, “he told Hannah his missing finger was a birth defect. So was it gone when you adopted him?”

“Yes. We called it a birth defect because we couldn’t know what really happened and we thought he would accept it more easily if he thought it a natural condition.”

“And how did you decide to adopt him?”

“ We… we lost a child to illness and because of a hysterectomy I couldn’t have more. So we contacted an agency and they found Adam for us.”

Bromley pressed, “And the name of that agency that has his adoption records?”

“Tri-State Adoption Company,” Mrs. Iverson replied.

“I recognize that name,” Bromley acknowledged. “They’re defunct now, but they operated in Fairfax County at that time. A well-run organization. I did legal work for them a few times.”

“Would you mind too much showing us Adam’s adoption papers?” Jennifer asked.

“I… I lost them three years ago during the move to this house.”

Brushing away that excuse, Bromley said, “No problem. I may be able to get them from the agency’s stored files. If not,” he threw this idea on the table, unsure whether he could actually follow through, “the information can be retrieved from court records which my office should be able to access easily.”

His ploy worked. Mrs. Iverson paled and brought a trembling hand to her lips. She’d feared this day for three decades, knowing she’d randomly picked the agency’s name from the phone book yellow pages the day Adam entered their lives. She realized her ruse could buy only a few days’ time before Bromley’s search unearthed no recorded facts to support her invented story. She always hoped if it came to this, spontaneously volunteering a legitimate agency’s name would satisfy curiosity enough to discourage further checking. She searched her mind for
any
plausible explanation short of the truth, but nothing believable emerged. Cornered at last, she realized the deception guarded for nearly thirty years was finally over.

But when she told that truth, what devastating reprisals awaited?

She sighed in resignation as her face clouded with anguish. Worse than the revelation that she’d broken laws, she feared her son’s outrage when he learned the parents he trusted had lied to him all his life. If she lost Adam, what little was left of her world would disintegrate. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Just then, the front door opened and in walked Adam.