“Split screen and show results.”
“Proceeding.”
He leaned back in his chair and sipped the steaming coffee. They’d begun using decent beans in the AD’s machines of late, and the coffee actually tasted like coffee, rather than the bitter metallic substitute that was used in the rest of the SIU’s machines. It was a nice change.
The com-screen came to life, displaying the bloody images of the first two women killed. Underneath the photos were their histories.
He scanned through them both quickly and frowned. They’d been born on the same day, in the same military hospital.
“Display the birth certificates for both women.”
“Displaying.”
The two documents came onscreen. He raised his eyebrows. A birthday wasn’t the only thing they’d shared. They also had the same mother. So why hadn’t Emma Pierce raised her daughters? And how could both girls be listed as being born at ten fifteen p.m. if they had the same mother?
“Who was the attending obstetrician on the births?”
“Dr. Frank Lloyd.”
“Where can I find him?”
“Dr. Lloyd is the resident physician at the Hopeworth Military Base.”
Hopeworth was something of a black hole when it came to military bases. Little was known about its activities, and it was one of the few areas the SIU computers could not access. Officially, Hopeworth was a weapons development area. Unofficially…who knew?
But why would they want a full-time obstetrician? Were the staff so bored that the base was experiencing a population explosion?
“Dig up Harry Maxwell’s birth certificate, and see what you can find on Emma Pierce.” If Emma worked at Hopeworth, there wouldn’t be much to find. The base guarded the identity of its personnel almost as fiercely as its activities. It was surprising that they’d let the birth certificates slip out—although, perhaps because both children had been adopted, they’d been forced to do so.
“Agent Samantha Ryan has just requested a priority-one access-all search.”
“Indeed?” He smiled. So she’d finally decided to search for the eight names listed on the birth certificate he presumed Jack had given her—a certificate he knew about only thanks to the fact that he’d gone through her drawers a few days ago after seeing her hastily hide it one afternoon. He had begun to wonder if she’d ever take the risk. Of course, he could have told her all about one of the four men on that certificate—Mark Allars had been a friend of his father’s for a very long time, after all—but for the time being, he was keeping his silence. She’d undoubtedly be furious that he hadn’t mentioned knowing Allars, but, damn it, the old adage of leading a horse to water was correct. He could push all he wanted, could lead her to names, but in the end it wouldn’t matter unless she truly wanted to uncover her past. “The search is approved. Post a copy of the results to me, but otherwise continue.”
The key to who—or perhaps what—she was lay not in the present, but in a past she couldn’t remember. He was certain of that much. But it wouldn’t do him any good to do the research, because he had no idea what might or might not trigger her memory. She had to be the one to look, which was why he’d allowed her full computer access in the first place—something that went against all SIU rules.
The computer blinked to life again. “No current information is available on Emma Pierce.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“No purchases have been made with credit cards in the last month. No transactions within bank accounts. The utilities to her home have been cut due to nonpayment.”
“No death certificate was issued?”
“The death records have been scanned. There is no match.”
If she wasn’t dead, then what the hell was she up to? “Last known address?”
“Fourteen Errol Street, Melton.”
His frown deepened. What would someone like Emma Pierce, who’d obviously been employed by the military and should have retired with a nice, fat pension, be doing in a place like Melton? The government had bought out a good portion of the suburb some ten years back, with the aim of providing both the poor and the homeless with someplace cheap to live. Or, as the critics of the move had observed, with a dumping ground. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Was she in government or private housing?”
“Government-funded.”
“Is there a husband or living relative listed on file?”
“There is no marriage certificate on record, and no listing of immediate family available.”