The Blood In the Beginning (24 page)

‘Are you sure?'

‘Positive. Look at the tear rolling down her cheek.'

‘Will do. Where are you now?'

‘Heading for study hall.'

‘I was about to call you.'

Something in his voice made me stop walking. ‘Yeah?'

‘I have the number and last known address of Adel Ruthann Fletcher, your …'

I waited, not breathing.

‘Birth mother. Sending it to you now.'

‘Thanks.' It's hard to talk with your heart in your throat.

‘You alright?'

‘I'm good.' More lies. ‘Talk soon.'

He hung up and I was left staring at my phone.

The adrenaline was pushing my eyeballs out of my head. I needed somewhere quiet. Safe. And I needed to call this number, before I lost my nerve. I went back to Tom's and bumped into him in the hallway.
Shit.

‘Tom.' That was it. All I had.

Unfortunately, he didn't have much more. ‘I'm off to study group.'

I nodded. ‘I'm staying at Cate's tonight.'
Hopefully.

‘Okay.'

‘Um …'

‘Yeah. See ya.'

He walked away, not looking back.

I knew he didn't look because I stared after him, still speechless.
Way to fuck up an excellent friendship, Sykes.
I went into the apartment, sat on the couch and typed in the number. My finger hovered over
call,
unable to tap it.

Whose brainiac idea was it to find my birth mother?
Oh right, mine.
For medical reasons …
suddenly it was not feeling like such a good idea. To compensate for the extreme jitters, I laid on all the supportive self-talk I could manage:
Everything will be alright. There's nothing to lose here. I can't wind up knowing less than I already do. My health depends on finding out. Don't be a scaredy cat, Sykes. At least you know she's alive, not in some underwater tomb!
None of these affirmations helped as I stared at my phone. I felt like any minute I would throw up.
Just call her, already!

I tapped
call
.

My eyes drifted out the window as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

‘Hello, Adel speaking.'

Up came breakfast.

I choked it back down. ‘Ms Fletcher?'

‘Speaking.' She went from friendly to wary in a heartbeat.

‘This is …' Every rehearsed line went right out of my head. It was all I could do to keep from ending the call and running a mile, or twenty. ‘I'm Ava Sykes. You don't know me, but I have some questions. About your daughter.' Yeah, the big brave abandonment case had cold feet. Sub-zero.

‘I'm sorry. You must have the wrong person. I never had children.'

Slap in the face aside, I persisted. ‘She was born September first, twenty-four years ago. There's a medical condition …'

The phone went dead, and so did my heart.

I was still staring out the window, throat dry, legs shaking, when Tom walked in.

‘I got as far as the parking lot.' He dropped his pack on the couch and strode toward me. ‘We have to talk.'

‘I … can't. Not now.' I pocketed my phone, threw my things back into my pack and shouldered it. ‘Gotta go.'

He started to say more.

‘Later, okay Tom?' I pushed past, and kept going right out the door. There was only one thought in my mind.

She hung up on me. The bitch hung up!
I ran the words through my head all the way down to the parking lot and up the street to the bus terminal. Whatever kind of fervour I needed to face this woman, who had thrown me away like garbage, was coursing through my veins right now. ‘West Hollywood, Willoughby Avenue.'

‘You'll have to connect downtown.'

‘Fine.'

The driver swiped my bus pass and I took a seat. It was a good forty-five minutes from the city centre, in this traffic. Plenty of time to get my act together … or stew in my juices. The stewing being the only real option, as there was no act, just raw, unprocessed emotion. My heart was in my throat the whole way. Even when the city bustle melted into rolling, hilly suburbs with brown lawns and dusty streets, I couldn't relax. I focussed out the window instead. Not very uplifting. The only thing that stood out against the desert monotone was the occasional cedar with its dark-side-of-the-forest green leaves and lofty, pyramid contour. Also, the occasional cat sitting on a front veranda. You could tell this neighbourhood was on tight water rations, in spite of the upper middle class zip code.

The ten minute walk from the bus stop to my alleged mother's home didn't help matters. I found myself approaching her mailbox, with no idea if she would even answer the door. Then luck hit like lightning. Adel Fletcher was locking up the house, going out. She looked calm, like the call out of the blue hadn't shaken her.
Nothing like it had me.
I stopped in my tracks. It was surreal, seeing the woman. Out of body experience surreal. I floated about ten feet above my head, watching the scene like a ghost. My main thought?
Boy, am I unresolved.

My mother wasn't tall. She wasn't lithe either, or even brunette. Her hair was jet black. Was it the real colour? Her eyes were dark brown in a full and softly rounded face. She looked late thirties, tops.
Was that possible?
To say she was plump would be a euphemism. My mother was overweight. Could Rourke have gotten it wrong? Was this a friend? Housemate? Time to find out. There was no turning back. ‘Excuse me, ma'am?' I watched her face go from curious the instant she looked up into terror a split second after.

‘No,' she whispered and clutched her handbag in front of her.

There was little doubt. The woman recognised me. Or was having a hallucination.

‘Ms Fletcher?'

‘You shouldn't have tried to find me.'

That's confirmation, right?
But, not really the response I'd hoped for. ‘I called, before. I really need to ask you about …'

Not him! Not him! I'll never speak of it! God above, she looks just like him!

The woman's thoughts were buckshot in my head, her mind transmitting like a beacon. I was about to reassure her that my father wasn't on the list of topics for the day.
Ease in slowly,
Rourke had said. Keep it simple and to the facts. ‘I wanted to talk about my blood condition.'

Before I could finish the sentence, she ran back to the front door, fumbling her keys, trying to escape. From me. Her thoughts continued to beam into my mind, chaotic and horrifying.

Monster child! You bit me. Tried to suck blood from my breasts!

‘What are you saying?' I'd been dumped at six weeks of age. Babies didn't even have teeth at that age, did they?

You wouldn't die!

I froze. It was like she'd thrown a bucket of ice water in my face.

I left you at the bottom of the pool, and nothing. You just lay there, happy as a clam, looking up. A demon child, waiting for …'

The vision hit me so hard I fell to my knees. I remembered.
Waiting for my mother to pick me up
. ‘But you didn't.' I was moving forward, stalking toward her.

She dropped her keys and spun, back to the door, eyes wide, mouth gaping. ‘You're just like him!' she screamed.

‘You tried to kill me.' I was vaguely aware of hot tears streaming down my face. When I reached her, I slammed my palms into the door, leaving holes either side of her head. ‘You tried to drown me! When that didn't work, you left me in a back alley. Like garbage.' I pounded until splinters flew into the air.

She kept screaming. My fists went right through to the screen door, setting off the house alarm. The noise put my teeth on edge. I pulled my hands out of the shattered wood and stumbled back.
Who's the monster now, Ava?
The cool thought repulsed me. No, that's not true. The answer did.
Me. I'm the monster.

My mother's mind was a torrent.
Filthy raping bastard. He ruined my life and now his spawn is going to finish it.
For a flash, I saw a man's face. Beautiful. Terrible. Then it was gone a second later and my mother's eyes stared back at me.

Long buried memories rushed up. I'd seen this expression on her before. I backed from her until I hit the mailbox and knocked it from its post. I watched her stream of relentless images. This woman's memory of being raped had my hands to my face, screaming as well. Adel swept up her keys and ran, diving into the white Toyota parked in the driveway. She had the engine revved and was out of there like a shot.

My legs collapsed. I hit the pavement, tears running, nose running, the house alarm blaring into the street. In an anguished moment I realised two things: my mother hadn't been a consenting adult when she conceived me, and I had to disappear before the police showed. I didn't know how far back Rourke held my surveillance.
Shit.
I picked myself up and stumbled down the street, fairly certain that the neighbours were crouched behind their curtains and blinds, calling 911.

The upshot? There was no more guessing which side of the family my temper came from.
Both.
I'd set out to find answers; I came away with more questions. The bus ride back to the city was a blur. I had no certainty about what to do next, except talk to my best girlfriend. I tapped my phone. ‘Call Cate.'

She picked up on the second ring. ‘Hello, beautiful.'

‘Cate?' Emotion spilled out with my voice. ‘Can I come over?'

‘Ava, what's happened?'

‘I just met my birth mother.'

‘Are you alright?'

‘Not even close.'

The bus ride to Cate's took over an hour, plenty of time for more juice stewing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Staying at Cate's seemed best, but I wasn't completely at ease, due to Joey's part of the equation. Still, it was a roof, bed and breakfast, near the university, and I felt reasonably safe. It also felt good to keep moving, as the copycat could still be after me. Yeah, I was doing anything to avoid thinking about my ‘mother.' My phone rang as I walked up Cate's street from the bus stop. I looked at the display.
Daniel Bane.
For the life of me, I couldn't work out why he'd be calling. I tapped
reject call.
He texted a few seconds later.

Dinner tonight?

I didn't remember agreeing to that, but I did want to learn more about his connections with City Hall, Teern and the CDC. I went into investigative mode as I headed toward Cate's door, and texted,
Sounds good.

Sticky Rice on S Broadway. 7:30?

C U There.
I pocketed my phone.

Daniel Bane made the world seem normal. Food. Companionship. Work. The way he spoke was easy too. Not forced. Almost like we were friends, or more. It would help me forget everything that was happening, like a holiday from the crazy. I decided that was a good thing as Cate opened the front door. Her eyes had a ‘not enough sleep for weeks' look. She gave me a hug and led me by the hand through the hallway of the two-storey townhouse. ‘Is Joey here?' I had to ask.

‘Right this way.' She pulled me into the kitchen where she and Joey had been eating pizza. Garlic, cheese and pepperoni filled my senses. Cosy.

I sat with them for as long as I could stand, nibbling at a sliver. Joey showed no signs of leaving, so I didn't mention my meeting with mother dearest and Cate didn't ask. That was for a private conversation. ‘I'm going in early tonight. Can I have a quick shower?'

‘You don't have to ask, silly.' Cate directed me to the spare room that doubled as a study, not that either of them were undertaking any coursework at this time. She pulled clean sheets and a towel out of the closet before flopping down on my new bed.

‘Thanks for letting me stay.'
In spite of me and Joey being mortal enemies.

‘Don't worry about Joey. You're always welcome.'

‘I didn't say anything about him.'

‘Didn't have to, Ava. You telegraph stronger than anyone I know.'

That shut me up. I took a quick shower and dressed for work in clean black jeans, Poseidon shirt and boots. To hell with the skirt this time. When she poked her head in half an hour later, she was dressed for work as well, or rather, undressed for work. ‘I thought you had the night off,' I said.

‘Back on at nine, rested and ready to go.'

‘You're doing too many hours.'

‘I'm fine.' She checked her makeup in the full-length mirror.

‘You wearing a coat over that?' This was so not what I wanted to say.

‘I'm on flyers until midnight.'

I shook my head. ‘You're parading up and down the street, handing out “one free drink” flyers? Dressed like that?'

‘If you saw my mortgage dwindling, you wouldn't talk.'

She had a point. I was being totally judgmental, like an uptight parent. I lowered my voice, moving on to my next concern. ‘I'd rather you didn't tell anyone where I'm staying.'

She laughed outright. ‘You're so paranoid, Ava.'

‘Um, hello? A killer is targeting me and we're trying to catch him, not lead him to my dearest friends.' Where was her brain? ‘Cate, please humour me on this, will you? Don't tell anyone, including Daniel Bane.'

She wasn't listening. ‘I'm up for promotion next month.' Cate opened her purse and popped a capsule, threw her head back to swallow it.

So many warning bells went off I didn't know where to start. ‘What was that?'

‘I'm back on the pill.'

Liar.
It was the wrong packet, for one. ‘With your vasectomised boyfriend? You should be using condoms with him, by the way. Six of them at a time.'

‘Mind your own business, Sykes!' Joey shouted from the kitchen.

I guess I'd said it a little loud.

‘And I want to talk to you about my truck,' he went on.

Damn.

Cate ignored the whole ‘safe sex' issue and whispered, ‘Are you going to be okay, with Joey?'