my computer since my meeting with Evania, looking up facts on leukemia. I’d had an idea how certain pieces fit, but I needed more information to be sure. “Come on, Mike,” I said to myself, “think.”
Pushing back from my desk, I grabbed a Coke from the vending machine in the hall. I’d already downed several, but one more wouldn’t hurt.
I paged through the Montebella file, re-examined the crime scene folder, and replayed the conversations with Evania and Freedmont.
I kept thinking, DNA doesn’t lie.
DNA DOESN’T LIE.
I sat up straight. But what if it did?
* * * *
Tuesday, 6:57 A.M. to 9:17 A.M.
I woke slumped over my desk, my clothes looking like an unmade bed. I checked the clock. Still too early for Slick Danny to come in. I needed to bounce my thoughts off him. See if he read it the same way. In the meantime, I went back over my notes and wrote down some questions.
At 9:17, Slick Danny still hadn’t come in. Couldn’t wait any longer. I’d make a phone call. If my ideas turned out to be facts, I’d be making another call real soon. Reaching for the phone, my palms began to sweat. I dialed Evania Peterson’s number, let it ring.
* * * *
Tuesday, 3:11 P.M.
Late that afternoon, I zipped across town in my uncle’s SUV. I pulled to a curb outside Freedmont’s condo, waiting for Jules and the other officers to arrive. Before I could turn off the engine, Freedmont came out the door with two big suitcases in hand. He lugged them to his car, opened the trunk.
Where was he going?
Throwing the car in gear, I barreled into his driveway, then rolled down my window.
“Hi, Mr. Freedmont. Going somewhere?”
He spun toward me. “You startled me.” He set his suitcases down. “Yeah, yeah, want to get away for a few days. Just need to get out of the city. Clear my head.”
I nodded. “I’ve, uh, got a few more questions for you.”
“Hey man, I’d love to help, but I’m running late.” He glanced at his watch, ran a hand through his thinning hair.
“I…I have a couple questions, that’s all.” I hunched over the wheel. As I said, I’m a terrible liar.
“Can’t it wait?” He waved toward his car. “Why don’t you come by next week.”
“I have questions.” I bobbed my head like a dash ornament.
“Look man, I’m late. What do you want?”
“Um, I have questions about the case. About Ms. Galt. Did she,” my mind drew a blank, “Did she, uh.”
“What?” Freedmont’s voice rose.
“Did she ever spend time at the Leukemia Society?” It was the best I could do.
“How the hell would I know? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.” He turned back toward his car.
I stayed put, letting the SUV idle.
Freedmont loaded one suitcase into the trunk, then turned around. “What?” he shouted. “You’re not the police. I don’t have to answer anything. Move your car.”
I idled in his drive. What else could I do?
“Hey, move your damn car.” He slammed his palm against the hood of the Lexus, then moved to the driver’s side window. “Now.”
I nodded, locked the doors, then rolled up the window.
I slid the SUV into gear, pulled forward, running over the remaining suitcase, and pushed the Lexus up against his bumper. Then I threw it in park.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”
Freedmont yanked at my door, releasing a slew of swear words. He called me stuff I’d never even heard of. I switched the radio on to drown him out. I looked at the SUV’s clock and counted the seconds out loud. Where was Jules?
Freedmont stormed into the garage and returned with a crowbar.
I fumbled around in the front seat looking for anything to defend myself with. My aunt’s mini umbrella was the best I could find.
He swung the crowbar at the hood, left a huge dent. My uncle was gonna be pissed.
Approaching the windshield, Freedmont raised his arms to swing again. That’s when I heard the sirens and screeching tires. Red and blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror.
“Put the crowbar down, Mr. Freedmont,” Jules voice carried loud and strong through the squad car speaker.
He did. Right on my uncle’s windshield.
* * * *
Tuesday, 3:58 P.M.
I stood next to my uncle’s SUV, panic seeping from my pores. My tic remained quiet. Too scared, I guess.
“Uncle Frank’s gonna kill me, Jules.”
“Nah, Mikey, you’re a hero. You stopped a murderer. Besides, Frank’s got insurance.” She smiled, but it didn’t look right, the corners of her mouth turning down.
“Then why’re you picking at your fingers?” I asked.
Jules stuffed her hands behind her back.
“Oh man, he’s really gonna kill me,” I said.
Freedmont, now handcuffed and Mirandized, chose that moment to stop in front of me.
“How’d you know?”
I swallowed the urge to take a swing at him. “The facts. At first, I thought DNA couldn’t lie, but in a way it did. You said you had leukemia. Sandra Montebella was a marrow donor. Your marrow donor. When she donated her marrow, it replaced yours, giving you her DNA signature. That’s why her DNA came up instead of yours. That’s also why only her blood was found at the scene, ’cause she was never there. You were. Skin, hair, everything else had your DNA stamp.”
“Yeah,” Jules broke in, “when Mikey explained it to me, I checked the forensics. We had some of your skin cells mixed with the blood. We hadn’t run them since we had enough blood to make a match. Imagine the lab’s surprise when the skin’s DNA didn’t match the blood, but matched some of the hair samples found at the scene.”
I nodded. I’d called the Leukemia Society to test my hunch. Evania had been more than willing to cooperate with the police.
“By that time, we’d suspected Sandra Montebella had been your donor,” Jules said. “Why’d you do it, anyway?”
Freedmont hunched over, looked Jules straight in the eye. “She was leaving me. Bitch said we’d be together until I died. Then wham! It’s over. Well, one of us died. It just wasn’t me.”
* * * *
Tuesday, 6:24 P.M.
I slumped against the hood of the SUV, the sun sinking into the horizon. I’d driven it back to the office hanging my head out the window so I could see. Luckily, I didn’t get pulled over. But I needed to return the car to my uncle. I couldn’t face him. He’d never let me borrow it again.
Slick Danny stood next to me, not saying anything.
“You mad at me?” I asked.
“Why’d I be mad at you, Michael?” He brushed at the shoulders of his suit jacket.
“’Cause I went to the police without asking you first. Know you didn’t want me to…”
He pursed his lips. “Shame what happened to your uncle’s car.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the lines in the parking lot.
Slick