Page 167 of The Bone Code
Huger’s first online venture launched in August 1999. Named GeneMe, the service relied on Y-chromosome DNA, and, since that part of the genome is passed only from father to son, was limited mostly to paternity testing. Eventually, GeneMe added mitochondrial DNA, carried by both males and females. Since mtDNA is passed only from mother to offspring, its testing allowed tracing through female lines.
By 2000, GeneMe’s capabilities had expanded. Users could order DNA profiles, enter results from other testing companies, search the site’s DNA database, create online family trees, and connect with relatives. No ancestry, yet.
Huger charged nothing for a GeneMe account.
That puzzled me. Was free access a public service? If not, how did he make money?
I quickly found the answer. GeneMe offered online consultations to help customers understand their test results. For a fee.
In October 2006, GeneMe.com acquired GlobalGeneLink.com,a rival company located in Provo, Utah. GGL’s genealogy database was large, allowing GeneMe to expand into the area of multigenerational ancestry tracing. Huger shut down GeneMe and relaunched as GeneFree. From then on, users had to pony up for access to services.
Ironic, I thought. Given the new name.
In April 2018, GeneFree announced that it was in talks to acquire a Cincinnati-based company called Rasmussen Genetic Ancestry Foundation. RGAF had three elements that appealed to Huger: an advanced DNA-testing capability, an immense repository of genealogy data, and a sophisticated media-sharing strategy.
RGAF.com closed on July 1, 2018, and its assets were transferred to GeneFree.com. GeneFree could now perform SNP whole-genome testing, and it owned a monstrous database.
The date triggered another cerebral collision.
Holy freaking crap!
Was that it? Had Lena and Harmony unearthed dirt that would have jeopardized the GeneFree acquisition of RGAF?
The timing fit. The girls vanished in February 2018.
The realization sparked a fusillade of new questions.
Was the girls’ dirt the same dirt Lena’s mother had discovered?
Was that dirt damaging enough to trigger four murders?
What was the dirt?
Remembering the old adage—follow the money—I logged on to GeneFree.com. The site’s home page featured side-by-side smiling families, one in vivid color with Mom, Dad, Junior, and Sis in modern dress, one in sepia tones showing Mama, Papa, and six young-uns in nineteenth-century garb. Reminded me of the portrait of Polly Beecroft’s grandmother and great-aunt.
Above the photos, tabs offered choices:Biological Parentage. DNA. Genealogy. Health.
Below the tabs, a pulsating red headline warned of the dangers of capnocytophaga. Below the headline, text stated that immunity to capno was genetically determined and that GeneFree could provide diagnostics and thus peace of mind.
A link took me to a page dedicated to capno. For a hefty price, I could obtain a specialized DNA-testing kit, a personalized health report, and support from medical and genetic-counseling resources.
I returned to the home page and took a whirl through the rest of the site. Was constantly bombarded by sidebar and pop-up ads linking to online sources for health foods and homeopathic remedies and to pages for those whose DNA indicated they were capno-vulnerable.
I was still whirling when Ryan phoned. I briefed him on the calls connecting the switchboard at InovoVax with the GeneFree offices, on Abilene Monger’s account of Lena and Harmony’s visit with Huger, and on my visit to GeneFree.com. I avoided mention of my theory, still in the embryonic scattered-particle stage.
“How much profit could there be in testing spit and selling hemp?” I asked, as much to myself as to him.
“Ask Vislosky to pull GeneFree’s financials? Maybe try for Huger’s tax returns?”
“Good idea.”
“Not likely she’ll get them without a warrant.”
“I can feel it in my gut, Ryan. The calls were between Arlo Murray and Sullie Huger. I know there’s a connection between those two.”
“The lady wins a Kewpie doll!” Faux exultation.
“What does that mean?”
