Birthright: Pray your past stays hidden (Alex Turner Book 1)

by Richard Blade

  Something stirred in Alex, a sense they might be close. He raised his hand to silence Cate and focused on the paper. He ran his fingers across it again, feeling the names, imploring them to talk to him. He blocked the surname, Joyce, with one hand, and used his fingertips to gently move over the first names. They seemed to dance off the paper at his touch, April, Daphne, Martha, Nelly, Ruth, Sarah. He stopped.

  After a moment, he spun his attention to Cate, “I may have something. Who did she write to?”

  “The letter is right there on your desk.”

  “I know the letter. I have it memorized, but my focus is here and I can’t take my eyes from this list. You tell me. I need to hear you say out loud the name of the person she sent the letter to.”

  “Okay.” Cate was surprised at the multiple layers this strange academic possessed, “Sarah Frost.”

  “Again. Say it again,” demanded Alex.

  Sensing he was close, Cate excitedly replied “Sarah-”

  The red light above the door flashed on, blindingly bright as it interrupted them at such a crucial moment. Following the light, Dean Hamlin ambled into the basement study, “Hi there, I thought I’d stop by and-”

  “GET OUT!” Alex and Cate’s voices united in their command.

  Stunned, the head of the faculty left as quickly as he had entered.

  Alex lowered his voice and spoke again to Cate, “Put the two names together.”

  “Sarah Joyce,” stated Cate.

  Alex moved his hand. Beneath it were the words, Sarah Joyce.

  Cate gasped, “How did you do that?”

  “It was the only possible combination, based on her own words.”

  “You’ve found Mary! What’s next?” Cate was stunned.

  “Next? Now we follow her.”

  Two more coffees and three containers of Chinese food piled with the rest of the consumed refreshments, as Cate confirmed her latest find, “Sarah Joyce arrived at Ellis Island, Wednesday, September 14th, 1892, with her son, Edward Joyce, age three.”

  “We have them. They’re here now in America. Let’s stay on their trail and find out where they went to.”

  Cate emerged from her laptop, and compared her screen to a handwritten note from Alex, “You were right. They remained in New York. She worked there as a cleaner while Edward went to school and grew up.”

  “Have you found what he did after leaving school?”

  “Yes,” Cate was proud. “Edward became a cop. He got married in 1911. Had three children. But that’s where I come to a dead end.”

  “Don’t get discouraged,” Alex consoled his young assistant, “There’ll be more. Go into the New York Police Department records. Try researching his badge number or precinct.”

  Alex was still pacing when Cate called out with her latest discovery, “It’s not good. Edward Joyce was killed in 1917 stopping a bank robbery. And it gets worse. His wife and two of his children died in hospital in 1919.”

  “Probably the Spanish Flu pandemic. How about Mary - Sarah, and the third child? Check the hospital’s library. It should have records. The flu forced them to keep notes on everyone they saw.”

  It only took her a few minutes, and she confirmed Alex’s prediction, “You’re right. Sarah and her first-born grandson lived. The rest of the family died, along with millions of others.”

  “What did Sarah do after the pandemic was over?”

  “She moved to Chicago. That’s where I lose her again.” Cate blew out a long, frustrated breath.

  “Try something for me,” Alex was encouraging, “Back then, families had patterns. Edward was a policeman. His son might have followed suit. Look in the Hall of Records. Check for public servants.”

  “What sort of public servant?”

  “It could be any kind,” answered Alex, “but if his father was in the NYPD, try someone who wears a uniform, a policeman, a firefighter, an ambulance driver. A similar job.”

  It was another thirty minutes before a smile returned to Cate’s face, and she couldn’t wait to share her find with Alex, “You were right. Victor Joyce became a fireman in Chicago in 1932. He married two years later. They had one child. A boy. Albert.”

  “Named after his great-grandfather, the person Mary mentions in the letter, her ‘Bertie’ - Albert.” Alex was pleased, “That’s our next task, finding out what happened to Albert Joyce.”

  For all Cate’s skill on the computer, it was Alex, pouring over a reference book who came up with the subsequent lead, “We have to adjust the search pattern. I’ve come across a document filed in Chicago in 1936. Sarah changed her family’s name again. This time to York.”

  Cate stopped her typing, knowing she’d have to start afresh with this information, but she was puzzled, “Why would she change her name unless she was getting remarried?”

  “No,” said Alex, “She didn’t remarry. This was a simple, legal name change registered with the city clerk’s office in Chicago. But the puzzling thing is, it wasn’t only for her. She went to the extra expense of having everyone in her family change their last names. That day, she ended the line of Joyce, and the entire family became York.”

  “I don’t understand.” Cate was confused, “She had already changed her name once, why do it again? And to have it take effect for all the family? Did she want them to disappear? It’s like she was trying to throw people off their track, as if she was scared someone was following them.”

  Alex slipped a marker into a thick book, “I have another find. Albert’s father, Victor, was killed at Iwo Jima. Then Sarah left for San Francisco with little Albert, her great-grandson. She died there in 1952, at eighty-nine. What a saga. What could have driven her for so long?”

  “Maybe it’s the thing they call Motherhood?” said Cate.

  “I know how strong that can be, but this was something more. Let’s find out what happened to Albert York. Did he have children?”

  Cate had closed her eyes and dozed off when Alex interrupted her much-needed slumbers, “I have someone. Albert York’s grandson. A teenager. Seventeen. Eddie York. He’s in San Jose, California. I need you to double check the finding for me.”

  Cate was wide awake now, “Will do. What about his parents?”

  “Both dead. No other relatives. This boy is the last of Mary Kelly’s line. He’s the successor Global Pharmaceuticals is looking for. We’ve found him.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Prison & The Penthouse

  After seventy-four hours in the dungeon, Cate did the impossible, she convinced Alex Turner to take a break and leave his subterranean darkness to explore the outside world. It was an opportune time, as Alex was in a cooperative mood, knowing they’d reached the end of their search and successfully found the subject they had been looking for.

  There were still a few final checks to make, to reconfirm his findings, but those would be easier; social security numbers, high school reports, and medical records including locating the boy’s birth certificate. Those searches should only take a few hours, and because they were recent all the information was readily available and could be located by anyone he assigned to the task. The hard part was behind them now, their long walk back through the pages of history, so with that relief sweeping over him, he found himself sitting across from Cate in the faculty’s deserted cafeteria.

  Cate gazed around as she sipped her drink, “So this is what the outside world looks like. I’d forgotten.” She smiled at Alex, “What do you think of computers now?”

  He hesitated before answering, “They have a place in the right hands. I’ll take books and the printed word over them any day. But for someone with your talents …” his words faded out.

  “Professor Turner, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

  “That is how I meant it.” Alex looked Cate squarely in the eyes, “Most so-called assistants they assigned me in the past did nothing but slow my research down. I found myself having to take more time explaining to them how to do things than if I had don
e it myself in the first place. You are different. You have the gift of being able to use your mind to visualize how events, times, and people somehow fit together. That’s rare. I wouldn’t be surprised if you do succeed in getting tenure before you’re thirty.”

  “It’s going to take me a while to absorb that.” Cate was not being flippant. Alex’s heartfelt statement meant so much to her, “I’ll be thinking about your words on the flight.”

  “Flight? What flight?”

  “To San Jose, of course. To meet with Eddie York.”

  Alex was totally taken aback, “Why in God’s name would we do that? There’s no reason we have to see the boy in person.”

  “I can think of twenty million reasons why we have to,” explained Cate.

  “No. We simply go over the final points we discussed, then send the results to GPAD in New York. Our job is done at that point.”

  “Really? You don’t want to talk with him, ask him some questions to confirm beyond any reasonable doubt it is actually him?”

  “We have the paperwork for that confirmation.”

  “There’s an old saying my Irish grandma used to tell me, ain’t nothing better than the real thing. Research is great, but sending a picture of you with Eddie to,” she inadvertently grinned at the name, “GPAD, will clinch the deal. Come on, you told me they would pay for expenses, and a flight to San Jose is cheap, and it is the ultimate validation of all of your work.”

  Alex thought it through, “All right. I think Mr. Brown would appreciate the extra diligence. Should we call a travel agent to get the tickets?”

  Cate laughed as she patted her laptop, “This is your travel agent. His first name is Mac.”

  The boarding announcement for the United flight to San Jose via Denver had the passengers lining up at the gate, waiting for their group to be called.

  Cate could see Alex was anxious and reaching inside his jacket to recheck his wallet, then fidgeting with his briefcase. "Everything good?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know I’d have to show my ticket again. I put it in here somewhere,” he looked through his open case before finding it.

  “You’ll need your ID one more time, as well,” Cate reminded him.

  “I will?” Alex started a second search.

  Cate smiled, “Give them to me, I’ll look after them for you.”

  “Thanks. I told you, I’m not the best traveler.” He passed her his ticket and passport.

  She gazed down at the official document, “We’re flying domestically, you don’t need a passport to do that. Just a driving license with a Real ID registration.”

  “I’m not sure if my license has that. I don’t drive much these days. And I wasn’t certain if I needed the passport or not. It’s been a while since I was on a plane, so I brought it just in case.”

  “Better safe than sorry, I guess.” She smiled, “I don’t know why, but I didn’t think you’d have a passport, particularly after what you said the other day about traveling.”

  “I’ve only used it once,” answered Alex.

  “For vacation? Where did you go? Somewhere nice and tropical? Like hanging out on the beach in Jamaica sipping on fruity drinks?”

  “It was Prague, and it was winter. I was there for research.” Alex’s words were clipped and somber.

  “Of course, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  Ahead of them, the line began boarding, avoiding the awkward end to their conversation, and they commenced their shuffle to the gate.

  After the seven-hour flight which included the long layover, Cate pulled their rental car into the courtyard of the Holiday Inn Express and checked into their separate rooms to relax, shower and sleep before their appointment to meet with Eddie York the next morning.

  Cate was dressed for the warm California weather as she strolled through the hotel’s reception area in her short summer dress, attracting admiring glances from the desk clerk and the bellboy. Alex was already waiting in the lobby, checking and rechecking his notes.

  “Anything changed since you looked at them last?” grinned Cate as she plopped down next to him.

  “No, why would it have?” Alex realized she was joking even as he replied. “I was running through the best questions to ask so we can confirm our findings. Because he’s a juvenile, normally we wouldn’t be allowed access to him, but the Dean reached out to one of our former students who is now on the bench in Wisconsin, and the court made an exception for us, and we’ve been given thirty minutes with him.”

  “I’m confident you’ll come up with the right things to ask.” She sprung to her feet, “I’ll go get the rental car and honk when I’m out front.”

  “You should pick up a map from reception before we leave,” suggested Alex.

  “A map?” Cate laughed and held up her phone, “I’ve got a map.”

  Alex shook his head, “I should have known.”

  “And he talks to me. I have him set for a cute Australian accent. It’s like having Hugh Jackman sitting in the passenger seat, telling me which way to turn.”

  “And it has where we are going?”

  “It has everywhere, McDonald’s, the airport, nearest Starbucks-”

  “Does it have where Eddie York is?”

  “Yes, it has where Eddie York is.” Cate turned her phone to show him the Google maps display, “I already programmed it in, the San Jose Juvenile Detention Facility For Young Men.”

  The outside of the austere concrete building on Guadalupe Parkway reflected the harsh conditions waiting inside for the juvenile offenders serving their time. The three wide stairs leading to the entrance were monitored by multiple security cameras and two armed, uniformed guards who stood positioned by the twin tempered glass and steel doors. It was those officers who were first to address Alex and Cate.

  “How can we help you?” It was not a warm greeting, more of a challenge.

  “I’m Professor Alex Turner from the University of Wisconsin. This is my assistant, Caitlin Shannon. We have an appointment to see Edward York.”

  “Are you his parents or legal guardians? Only direct family has visitation privileges.”

  “We understand that, sir. When we made the appointment, we were granted a dispensation from Judge Reynolds in Wisconsin who liaised with your facility.” Alex turned to Cate who produced the stamped and endorsed legal paper.

  The guard scrutinized the form, passed it to his fellow officer to check, and received a nod in corroboration.

  “Okay, sir, you can go on inside to the counter and the secondary security screening. But not you, miss,” he stared at Cate.

  “The court order states it is for both of us. You’ll see my name and Caitlin Shannon’s printed there,” stressed Alex.

  “I see the names, sir, but unfortunately we can’t allow her in.”

  “I’m standing right here. I can hear you. What is your problem?” Cate was getting angry.

  The guard refused to take the bait and kept his voice low, but officious, “I can’t let you in dressed like that.”

  “Dressed like what?” Cate was shocked, “Are you guards or fashion police? What is this, Project Runway - Prison edition? You don’t like my outfit?”

  The guard waited patiently for her to finish and continued, “When the University was emailed the clearance, the dress code was attached. It clearly says females are not admitted to this facility with bare arms or legs, or sexually provocative outfits.”

  “Sexually provocative? You should see me on a Friday night.”

  “We are only following the rules. Any dress, above the knee, is considered too short. There’s a shaded waiting area over there. You can’t enter our facility today.” His voice reflected the finality of his statement.

  Alex looked at Cate, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, you go in. We came all this way. I’ll let these guys have their hormone holiday and stay out here like a good little girl, my mouth shut and my legs crossed. What year is it anyway?” She whirled around and sto
mped over to a bench at the side of the stairs.

  The stark concrete exterior of the Juvenile Hall was echoed throughout the inside of the building. Overhead lighting burned down and metal doors, spaced ten feet apart, stretched the length of the corridor. Alex couldn’t help but think it wasn’t set up to correct and inspire troubled kids, merely to keep them incarcerated for the duration of their sentence.

  A much friendlier, and heavier, uniformed officer led the way to the meeting area arranged for Alex.

  “I’m Sergeant Hernandez, but you can call me Oscar. I’ve been here fifteen years and seen them come and go. Eddie’s a good kid, he tries to help out and works in my office two days a week, and does repairs for us in the metal shop. He’s had some bad breaks.”

  “I appreciate your input, but this really isn’t a social visit,” said Alex. “Eddie is involved with something connected to my University.”

  Oscar gave him a double-take, “Did he steal a car from there?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s a research assignment I’d been given, and his name came up.”

  “Good. The kid doesn’t need any more problems.” Oscar pointed though the heavy glass windows, “He’s in there waiting for you.”

  Seated at a small table was Eddie York. Alex was surprised how normal he appeared. He had been prepared for a teen with tattoos, piercings and torn clothes, but instead Eddie was a good-looking boy whose only apparent nod to the rebellion of youth was the long hair falling past his shoulders. The boy sat quietly in the holding room, keeping himself occupied by beating out the rhythm to an unheard song with his fingertips on the metal tabletop. If it wasn’t for the orange jumpsuit he wore with JUVENILE printed in block letters across the back, he could have been any kid in America, hanging out, killing time.

  Oscar escorted Alex to Eddie’s table.

  Eddie glanced up and smiled, “Hey, Oscar.”

  “Hey, Eddie, here’s your visitor.” Job done, he turned and walked away.

  Alex stepped forward, “I’m Alex Turner, nice to meet you.”

  “Welcome to my crib. What’s up?”

  “I’m here to talk to you. Someone has been trying to find you, and they asked me to see if I could locate you, so here I am.”