Part 31 (2/2)
Then again, maybe his mother just wanted to kill Rose in her sleep.
Annalise strapped his father's watch onto her wrist, although it was too large. ”Rose,” she said warmly. ”Meet my son.”
”I am going to have to remember her every day for the rest of my life,” Annalise said that evening, before Jack left to go back to school. ”So I might as well get to like her.”
”There's nothing to like,” Jack said.
”That's not what your father thought. And I certainly approved of his first first choice.” choice.”
”She's not your responsibility. Mother Teresa wouldn't even have done this.”
”Mother Teresa didn't have a cheating husband.” Annalise's lips twitched. ”When it's all over, Jack, you're remembered for what you did, not what you said you were going to do. Your father found that out too late.”
Jack kissed his mother's cheek. ”I want to grow up to be just like you.” They were silent, both reading the subtext of what he had not not said. said.
”You will,” Annalise answered. ”I'm counting on it.”
The cab dropped him off at his apartment shortly after eight o'clock. Even from the street, Jack could see the silhouettes in the windows, could hear the heavy drumbeat of the music. It was as if he'd never left, as if this party had been going on all weekend, in spite of the fact that his own personal world had stopped spinning.
He let himself in with the key and found Chad sitting on the couch with a few of the other guys on the team. A girl he didn't recognize was draped across Chad's lap like a knitted throw. ”Hey,” he said, immediately pus.h.i.+ng her aside, getting to his feet, and approaching Jack. ”Sorry about your dad, man.”
Jack shrugged. ”Thanks. I'm just going to go hang out in my room.”
Chad pressed a cold beer into his hand. ”Maybe you just need to take your mind off things,” he suggested pointedly.
Jack handed back the bottle. ”I'm not in the mood, Chad.”
”You sure?”
He started to nod, then looked at the girl, who smiled at him. ”Maybe you're right.”
A knowing grin spread across Chad's mouth. But he turned toward the others with a somber face. ”Jack's father just pa.s.sed away.”
On cue, Mandy sighed. ”You poor thing.”
”He could use someone to talk to,” Chad hinted.
Jack felt himself go into his room, felt this girl sit down beside him and hold his hand, felt his arms go around her-all without making any of it happen. It was as if his body knew how to go through the motions and his mind didn't have to be there at all. When the tears came-hot, huge sobs that wracked his big frame-Mandy held him tight and stroked his hair. ”I'm sorry,” he said thickly. ”I'm really sorry.”
In that instant, Jack thought of Rose. He thought of the girl he'd slept with the night his father had died, and he wondered where she was and what she would remember about that experience, long after all of the team had forgotten. He imagined his mother's shelters overflowing, stuffed with women who no longer understood how to help themselves.
If he died with his next breath, what would he leave behind?
Jack lightly tugged Mandy to her feet. ”Come,” he said softly. He steered her into the living room, where the others looked up in surprise.
At the front door, Jack raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. ”You need to go home and pretend that you never came here tonight.”
Chad began to curse, loudly and fluently. Jack forced himself to concentrate on the sound of this girl's retreating footsteps. They were light as snow, nearly as silent, but they crashed and swelled within him like an opera.
”Jesus!” Chad yelled the minute Jack turned around. ”How the h.e.l.l could you do that?”
How couldn't I, Jack thought. Jack thought.
June 2000 Salem Falls, New Hamps.h.i.+re The blood on the victim's s.h.i.+rt was definitely the suspect's.
Matt felt a smile fight its way out from inside. ”I knew knew it,” he murmured. He'd met Frankie, at her request, at a 1950s-style restaurant. They sat at an outside table beneath a big green umbrella while waitresses with change counters on their belts roller-skated by to take the orders of other patrons. it,” he murmured. He'd met Frankie, at her request, at a 1950s-style restaurant. They sat at an outside table beneath a big green umbrella while waitresses with change counters on their belts roller-skated by to take the orders of other patrons.
She looked up at Matt. ”I know you're dying to ask ... so yeah, there was s.e.m.e.n on the swab from the thigh.”
”Yes!” Matt smacked his fist onto the table, delighted. Rape cases without DNA evidence were the hardest kinds to win. Matt smacked his fist onto the table, delighted. Rape cases without DNA evidence were the hardest kinds to win.
”Let me finish.” Frankie c.o.c.ked her head. ”What do you remember about DNA?”
”It couldn't nail O. J.”
”Other than that?”
”Well ...it's why I have ten toes,” Matt answered.
”And, no doubt, that razor-sharp mind,” Frankie said dryly. ”Did you even pa.s.s biology in high school?”
”I was a wordsmith, not a scientist.”
”Okay. Basic genetics: everything about you came from your mom and your dad. She gives you one allele, he gives you another ... and that's why you wind up with blue eyes or good teeth or dangling earlobes.”
”Or excessive charm,” Matt added.
”Well, sometimes you get the short end of the straw,” Frankie sympathized. ”Anyway, all those traits are on the DNA molecule, which is microscopically over six feet long. But for forensic purposes, you don't care if someone has dangling earlobes. So I test eight areas that the general public has no idea about-like TPOX or CSF1P0. Every person is going to have a 'type' at those areas-two alleles ... one from Mom and one from Dad.”
Matt nodded, and glanced at Frankie's results.
[image]
Item CSF 1P0.
TPOX.
100.
12, 12.
8,11.
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