4
Aaron pulled into the lot of the Argonaut, found a space, and parked. Instead of heading inside he sat with the motor idling. To tempt himself out of the car and into the diner, he conjured images of Belgian waffles dripping with syrup and topped with powdered sugar and strawberries and maybe even some whipped cream, but he felt too queasy to eat. So he sat and wrestled with the question that had been plaguing him all through the hours since the meeting in Julia's office.
Should he tell Jack that Julia had given that pervert Bolton his description?
On one hand, he felt he owed it to him; after all, they'd been working together on putting Bolton back behind bars, but beyond that, he liked the man. He seemed a decent sort, as well as clever and resourceful.
On the other hand, they weren't getting anywhere against Bolton. If Bolton pegged Jack as the detective who'd been causing him so much trouble, he might try to do him serious harm. Enough harm to get himself locked up, thereby aborting this whole outpatient fiasco.
Might try to do Jack harm… that was where the struggle came: the try. Bolton had a couple of inches and maybe twenty pounds on Jack, but Aaron had a feeling the man could take care of himself.
For all he knew, Jack might put Bolton in a hospital. Might pound the living shit out of that deviant, amoral bastard. God, wouldn't that be wonderful? For not only would Bolton be suffering some well-deserved pain, but physical incapacitation might also prove enough to end the outpatient trial.
On the other hand, if Aaron warned Jack, he might back off on his surveillance, reducing or perhaps even eliminating the chance of a confrontation. Aaron dearly wanted to see Bolton hurt.
He jumped and squealed like a girl at the sound of a rap on the passenger window. He shrank against his door as he looked.
jack.
Relief Hooded him. 11 it had been Bolton, God knew what he would have done.
He hit the unlock switch and Jack slid into the passenger seat.
"Jumpy?"
Aaron nodded. "You could say that."
"Thought I'd find you inside. Actually it's better here. I don't feel like eating."
"Neither do I. Especially after seeing the DNA comparison between Dawn and Bolton."
"You mean the father-daughter thing."
Aaron gasped and stared at him. He'd said it so matter-of-factly.
"You know?"
A nod. "Since last night."
"But how could you? And how can this be? How does something like this happen? How could her mother not know?"
He realized he was babbling, but the questions had been pounding against the inside of his skull since he'd seen the printout.
Ninety-nine point nine nine percent probability of paternity.
Aaron listened in horrified fascination as Jack told about how Moonglow Garber had been abducted and repeatedly raped for weeks until she was pregnant, then released. And then he saw it all.
"The abortionist assassinations! They finally make sense!"
Jack nodded. "Finally."
"But that doesn't explain how you know Bolton is Dawn's father. Hank Thompson could have been the rapist."
"That's what I thought. Then I sketched out a timeline last night and realized that Hank was locked up in Creighton during the weeks Moonglow was missing."
Aaron leaned back. "Dear God."
He thought of Moonglow. That poor girl. Kidnapped, raped daily, probably in terror for her life. And then Bolton, father of her child… he thought of his own daughter and wanted to be sick. This only confirmed what he'd known all along: Bolton was a monster.
Jack's fingers were knotted into fists. "The sick, sick, subhuman son of a bitch. How does anyone do that?"
For no good reason, Aaron said, "Do you have a daughter?"
Jack looked up at him and Aaron recoiled at what he saw in his eyes. He didn't know what it was—pain, certainly, but nestled in a terrible seething darkness that urged him to flee and never look back.
"I almost did," he said in a low, barely audible tone. "I sort of do." He closed those terrifying eyes, took a breath, then opened them again. The darkness was gone. "You have a printout of the comparison with you?"
The abrupt change caught Aaron off guard. "Uh, um, yes. Why?"
"1 want to see it."
He pulled it out of his pocket and watched as Jack unfolded it, studied it. then looked up.
"Ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent probability. Not much wiggle room there."
Aaron shook his head. "Not a bit. But I don't get it. If Moonglow's child was to be later impregnated by one of her uncles, why not have Thompson do it? With a half uncle as the father, the chance of autosomal recessive traits coming to the fore are increased, but nowhere near what could happen to a baby whose father is not only its grandfather, but an uncle as well. It's not only sick, it's… counterproductive."
"Refresh me on 'autosomal recessive traits.'"
"An autosomal recessive gene is a genetic defect you inherit from one of your parents. For want of a better term, it's half of a genetically mediated disease. Let's say for example that you inherited a cystic fibrosis mutation from your mother. You don't show signs of cystic fibrosis because your mutation is paired with a normal gene from your father that overrules the mutation. This makes you a carrier. Should you impregnate a woman without a similar mutation, there's a fifty-fifty chance of the child being a carrier too, but zero chance it will wind up with cystic fibrosis. You following?"
Jack nodded. "Because there's no chance of my mutation getting paired with another like it."
"Correct. But should you impregnate a woman with a similar mutation, there's still a fifty-fifty chance of producing a carrier, but also a one-in-four chance of producing a child with cystic fibrosis. This is why first-degree relatives—parents, children, siblings—shouldn't mate."
"More chance of sharing recessives."
"Right. Hemophilia is a recessive that ran rampant through the royal families of Europe due to intermarriage."
They sat in silence for the moment, then he noticed Jack refolding the printout and slipping it into a pocket.
"Hey, you can't have that."
"I'll need it to show Christy. She'll never believe me without it."
Aaron felt a stab of panic. It had "Creighton" printed in large, boldface type across the top of the sheet.
"No! If she shows it to Bolton he'll know it was me!"
"Relax. I'll show her a Xerox with the logo folded out of sight. You'll have no connection."
Not good enough.
"But it won't help you! It has no names!"
"I've got to show her something, doc, and this is better than nothing. Be cool. 1 don't want to see you hurt. You're my man on the inside. I'll keep Creighton out of it. Trust me."
Trust him? He didn't know if he could trust anyone at this point. Except maybe this man.
Not that he had a choice. He couldn't very well take it from him.
More silence as Aaron wondered what Jack was thinking. Then he realized he hadn't got an answer to his previous question.
"Why didn't Thompson impregnate Dawn? Did Bolton want to bed his own daughter?"
Jack shrugged. "Maybe he's sterile. Maybe they don't know about recessive traits. But then again…" His voice trailed off.
Watching him, Aaron saw a look of growing wonder on Jack's face.
"What? What is it?"
"Maybe they want to match up certain recessive genes. Maybe that's been the whole purpose of this scheme all along." And then he shrugged. "And maybe not." He smiled. "Too bad I can't simply ask Bolton next time I run into him."
Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it again. Here was the perfect time to say something to Jack about Julia giving Bolton his description. He should say something. Really he should…
But he wanted that showdown, wanted Bolton hurt.
Of course it might be Jack who wound up getting hurt, maybe even killed.
Bolton could walk up behind him and gun him down just like he did the abortionists.
But he held his tongue. He'd have to trust that Jack had more street smarts than Bolton. A good bet, since Bolton had been off the streets for the last eighteen years.
Still… all the street smarts in the world wouldn't stop a bullet in the back.
Sometimes Aaron hated himself.