D. Anglin Facey - Identify Him

A small moan forced its way up past Senator Barrington J. Welch IIIs throat as he read the note:

In case you dont know what this is, let us explain. It is called aDNAfingerprint. They tend to be pretty good at identifying a specific person. This one belongs to you, Senator Welch. We went the extra mile and paid for the most detailed test available, so there is no mistake.

His eyes glazed over. He could not read the rest of it. His life as he knew it was over.

There was a skeleton on the bed. It spoke.

Darling! How nice of you to get here so quickly. And how is my favourite writer?

Jessica stared in confusion.

Mom?

She sounded just like her mom. She was propped up in bed with a book, just like her mom on a rainy afternoon, but the woman in the hospital bed looked nothing like her mom.

Her mom was five feet, two inches tall, with one hundred and thirty pounds spread over her short frame. Her hair was a thick sable cap that she wore in a simple bob. The woman on the bed was five feet two inches of skin stretched taut over bones, with hair so thin you could see her scalp. She slowly maneuvered stick legs over the side of the bed and patted the space beside her.

Come here, love. Come sit with mommy, the skeleton said in her mothers voice.

In the back of her mind, Jessica recognized the statement as one from childhood. She walked forward, intending to lower herself gently to the bed, but ended up collapsing into a sobbing heap on her mothers neck. Her mom laid her head on hers and held her close. When she was cried out, her mother pointed to a door in the corner.

Bathrooms through there, she said quietly.

Jessica stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red, her face blotchy. Less than twenty-four hours ago, everything had been fine in her world. One phone call had changed that. She closed her eyes and thought back to her last conscious moment before the phone had rung.

She closed the laptop, fell face down on the couch, and was asleep before she could congratulate herself on finishing the article ahead of schedule. She had pushed herself, and now exhaustion wrapped her in its warm cocoon.

The telephones ringing seemed to come from a long, long way, and she fumbled for it as she struggled out of sleep. She glanced at the clock. 3:21. AM or PM? Dark, so AM. She grabbed the phone. No one called her at 3:21 AM.

Hello? It was a cautious, questioning sound.

Miss Kaene? Jessica Kaene?

Ye-es?

My name is Brandon Knight, and Im your mothers neighbour. She has just been taken to the hospital, and she wanted me to let you know, said a cultured voice.

Whats wrong? Was there an accident? Jessica asked, coming awake in a hurry.

No, not an accident, but she wants you to come, the unknown voice told her.

Of course. Flights. I have to call and find out what time... she trailed off, trying to organize her mind.

I took the liberty of checking. You have a reservation on Delta Airlines, leaving Hartsfield-Jackson Airport at 9:45 AM. Ill meet you at Pearson International.

9:45! Is that the earliest flight?

No, but its the first direct one. Youll get here at almost the same time as the earliest, and youll have a bit more time to arrange things at your end. If you could clear yourself for a few weeks, it might be best. Ill see you in a few hours, Miss Kaene.

Only after hanging up did she think about the facts. She didnt know this man, so how would he recognize her? He hadnt said what was wrong with her mother, and hed neglected to mention which hospital. She sat, immobile and numb. Maybe shed just had a very realistic dream.

A near-cold shower removed all lingering traces of sleep, and for a moment, she wished she drank coffee. The stimulant would have been welcome. She made a list of all the things she had to do before heading to the airport and started working through them.

She sank into a cramped seat at the very back of the plane. It had been close, getting to the airport on time. She had spent two precious hours fine-tuning two articles that werent due for another three weeks, but with them out of the way, she had no immediate obligations. Freelancing had some merits, after all.

It was a pity shed been too befuddled to ask the obvious questions last night. She figured a 3 AM trip most likely meant an emergency call at the North York General Hospital, the one closest to her moms house. Of course, if mom had been lucid enough to call a neighbour, she probably wasnt critical. She was only forty-two, not old enough to have any of the problems associated with age.

Jessica managed to nap during the two-hour flight and was firm in believing that it wasnt too bad when she walked into Terminal 3 at the Toronto Pearson International Airport. She looked around at the waiting faces and strode to a row of seats. She lowered her overweight bag and was rotating a weary shoulder when she heard her name.

Miss Kaene? Im Brandon. Im stopped, not parked, so lets hustle. Ill take the shoulder bag, and you haul the wheelie.

Before she could acknowledge the greeting, he grabbed the bag, took two steps, and stopped abruptly. She watched in bewilderment as he shook the bag.

Is there a problem, Mr. Knight?

The name is Brandon, and Im just wondering if Ive finally found someone with the guts to put a false bottom in her bag. You know, to hide things like weaponry and contraband from the authorities. That seems a more reasonable explanation than the clichd bricks, he answered, giving the bag another shake.

She felt her lips twitch, and the unexpected smile eased some of the tension shed convinced herself she wasnt carrying. She took the time to study her companion as they headed onto Highway 401. He was of mixed heritage, but what the mix consisted of eluded her. His skin was a light honey tone, as though he had a permanent tan. The dark brown eyes were almond-shaped and ringed with lashes that women have been trying to buy for centuries but have never quite achieved. His hair was too low cut to give any real clue, and he had no facial hair. Not as in clean-shaven. He had no facial hair.

So, do I pass inspection? he asked, amusement tingeing his voice.

Her face warmed.

Sorry, I didnt mean to stare. Just trying to guess your ancestry, she said.

My mother was half Mexican, half white, and my father, half black, half Chinese. I like to think I got the best of the four races!

And what qualities would those be? she asked.