Page 46 of Memory of Murder
“What are the chances they’ll give me a copy of the test?”
“Have your friend Lisa send you a copy of your birth certificate if you have one.”
“I do,” she said eagerly. “I also have the death certificate that came with the letter from the prison.”
“Have her send that too.” He drove, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “We might be able to get the results since you are Mary’s biological daughter. Otherwise, we’ll purchase some sort of genetics assessment they offer. She’s in their database, so some part of the results of her testing will show up as a match to yours.”
“But that takes time, and it might not give us all the information from her original request.” Worry tinged Anne’s voice.
“Depends on the clerk and what we offer,” he suggested. “Maybe we can get everything.”
Trust One Lab
Borden Street, 3:00 p.m.
THE PARKING LOTwas basically empty. The couple of cars there likely belonged to employees. It was Saturday afternoon. Business had slowed with closing time nearing. Jack removed the five carefully folded one-hundred dollar bills he kept in a hidden slot in his wallet for an emergency just like this one.
“Ready?”
Anne nodded and then got out.
“If there’s a chance you could get into trouble for this,” she said quietly, “I can do it. I could be just a desperate woman looking for her family. Emotion drives people to do bad things.”
He slipped the folded money into his front pocket. “Not necessary. I’m a PI, not a cop. Bending the rules is something I have to do sometimes. The cops don’t like it, but they usually don’t push it.”
She squared her shoulders. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.” He opened the door, and they entered the waiting area. White walls, industrial-type tile and preformed plastic chairs. The typical sterile environment.
When they reached the counter, a clerk, male, mid-twenties maybe, approached them. He looked beyond ready for his day to be over. It was Saturday, so of course he did. Having someone—a potential customer—walk in the door was not what he wanted at this hour.
“Can I help you?” he said with no enthusiasm.
“Yes.” Anne smiled hopefully. “My biological mother had some prenatal paternity testing done here, and I’m hoping to get those results. I have my birth certificate. Her name was—”
“I think,” he interrupted, “I’ll need a legal order to give you someone else’s lab results, even your mother’s.”
Anne’s expression shifted from hopeful to desperate. “I do have my birth certificate and proof she passed away. Are you sure you need anything more?”
He shrugged. “Sorry. There are requests you can make. Or you can do a genetic test and find your matches that way.”
Jack placed his hand on the counter, pushed the folded hundreds from beneath his fingers. “What testing option would you recommend for immediate results?”
The young man stared at the folded bills. He turned to Anne then. “You said you have your birth certificate and maybe a death certificate?”
She nodded. Showed him the images on her phone. “Can I email these to you?”
“Sure thing.”
She hit Forward and handed the phone to him. He typed in the email address and pressed Send. Then he gave her a couple of forms.
“Fill these out, and I’ll see what I can do.”
He went to a desk and worked at his computer while Anne filled out the forms. Jack hoped this would work. A court order could take days or weeks.
Anne laid the pen on the counter. “All done.”
“Great.” The clerk walked to the printer, picked up some documents, folded them and placed them in an envelope. When he returned to the counter, he handed Anne the envelope, then picked up her forms along with the folded bills. “You’ll hear from us as soon as we have results.”
