by R. J. Blain
Instead of trying to put together all of the pieces about the mercenary company, I delved into the past. The black market ops had given me a login, and as part of my access, they had granted me limited FBI access. All I needed to do was plug in the case number to pull up the files.
The case had been closed, but I questioned everything about it now that I viewed the world in a different light.
“What’s on your mind, Karma?”
“Ma.” I leaned back in my seat and stared at the laptop and the taunting box. A few numbers, and I could review the case myself, the one that had resulted in me becoming a Johnson. I wondered what had happened to the locket with my name on it—and if the truth of my name would ever unburden my shoulders.
“What about the bitch has you tied in knots this time?”
“They had a kid. CARD found the body, closed the case. They didn’t have any leads on who’d killed him or why. But now I wonder.”
“Ah. Just do a name record check in the black market systems and see what other pings come up. You have access to the old records for now. If there was a hit for their kid, it’ll be in there.”
I swallowed. “I’m scared of what I’ll find.”
“Now that takes some guts to admit.” Amelia snagged my laptop. “Spell the last name.”
I did. “That’s why I went into the FBI in the first place. I wanted to be like those agents who’d found my brother. They’d given my pa closure.”
“And now you’re wondering if your ma was the one behind your brother’s death.”
“Yeah. I’m wondering now. The killer was never found. Postpartum psychosis is real, and she wouldn’t be the first mother to kill her child as a result of it. CARD gets a lot of those cases. A lot of them could have been prevented with the right care. It’s one of the first things we investigate now when there’s an infant involved. Did the mother show signs of postpartum? Was she being treated for it? We try to clear the mother first, but we have to cover all the bases. Postpartum psychosis or depression can result in infanticide. And it’s CARD’s job to find out if this is a factor when an infant disappears. And postpartum can last well over a year without treatments. And getting treatments for it isn’t as easy as one might think.” I sighed, staring at the tabletop and wondering if everything I’d built my life on had been a lie. “Some of the worst cases in CARD are like that, where one of the parents snapped and got rid of their own child. Having children is stressful, and mothers are often forced to play down their problems, so they go into a state of psychosis due to suffering from other delivery-related problems. Nobody believes her until it’s too late.”
“Then they believe her, but only while crucifying her for her psychosis.” Amelia sighed and tapped a button. “While there are some kill orders for Johnsons before you, there is nothing in the system that looks like a match, unless the baby was white and old.”
“No, the baby wasn’t white or old. He was theirs, unlike me.”
“And that leaves the unfortunate possibility that he was killed by his mother. What did they determine about the cause of death?”
“I don’t know. I never saw the file, and they didn’t tell my parents that I’m aware of. They just said they’d found the body and confirmed it was his. The case was closed because they didn’t have any information, I guess. I presume. The CARD team never came back after that.”
“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” Amelia grabbed her phone and dialed a number. “Hey. It’s Amelia. Any chance you have a mole in the FBI’s CARD database? I’m working on some therapy for my friend, and I’d like somebody to stealthily get into the old Johnson file and see if there’s a cause of death. Since we have solid evidence the mother is, in fact, capable of attempting to kill her own child for pay, we’re wondering if there’s any substance to the possibility. It won’t help the dead, but closure is closure. Sure, I can wait.” Amelia closed a window on my laptop and slid it back to me. “While you’re at it, trace in when the Johnsons put in the adoption request for Karma, where she came from, why she was put up for adoption, and more importantly, why she ended up with the Johnsons—and if the loss of their child may have been a factor. And since we’re digging more than we should anyway, do a hospital check on the baby for if there were any of those inconvenient illnesses asshole parents don’t want their children to have. That information might be in the CARD file.”
I stiffened, as while my pa loved anything tiny and helpless, my ma tried not to let her prejudices show but had them.
One day, the wounds from her prejudices would heal. One day.
“Okay, he wants me to put this on speaker, Karma. Try not to be more of a disaster than you already are.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered while she set the phone down on the table between us. I closed my laptop and placed it on the seat beside me.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thomas,” a deep-voiced man said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days.”
“Undoubtedly. You’re probably not going to like what I have to tell you, but you likely already know that since you’re asking these questions.”
“CARD has a note that my ma was a probable suspect but they had no way to prove it, and because there was a new young child in the house, CARD moved carefully to prevent a potential increase in victims.” I remembered that from training well enough; the parents always underwent severe scrutiny, but when other children were involved with the case, the agents acted with care to prevent the parents from believing they were suspects while being investigated.
“It is like you’ve been trained to handle this sort of case,” the man replied, his tone amused. “Yes. I’ll begin with Mr. Johnson, who has been fully cleared of all wrongdoing in the loss of the baby. At the time of the infant’s disappearance, he was not at home or with the baby, which is a solid alibi; between members of his church, some of whom were in law enforcement and his work, it was impossible for him to be involved. A complete evaluation of call records likewise supports this.”
“That you’re establishing he had nothing to do with it and CARD has recorded this as such leads me to believe that CARD only found circumstantial evidence, not enough to make an accusation but not enough to keep the case open.”
“You would be correct.”
“Postpartum psychosis?”
“While that is listed as a possibility, the CARD agents involved with the case, unfortunately, feel that there were stronger possibilities.”
“Stronger? Was there something wrong with the baby?”
“The child had phenylketonuria. According to CARD’s medical records, Mrs. Johnson was strongly against having invasive testing done, citing religious beliefs. The boy was born using a midwife at home with minimal hospital intervention. As such, it was not discovered the child suffered from phenylketonuria until two months old, after suffering from symptoms and complications of the disease. According to the CARD notes, Mr. Johnson immediately made the required dietary changes to improve his son’s health.”
“They’re PKU gene carriers?” I asked.
“Yes. The discovery their son had PKU is what is listed as them ultimately registering to adopt, as they wanted to have more than one child. The CARD investigation notes that Mr. Johnson agreed to register for adoption of another baby shortly prior to the child’s disappearance, and that he did so after pressure from Mrs. Johnson.”
I covered my mouth, as that would have been a red flag for the entire CARD team. Taking in a deep breath, I forced myself to relax in my seat and lower my hand. “CARD thinks it was premeditated murder.”
“They only had circumstantial evidence, and by the time they put all of the pieces together and located the infant’s body, it was nigh impossible to prove. Blunt force trauma and a broken neck are the official causes of death.”
If my ma hadn’t already paid with her life, I was sorely tempted to find her and give her a beating she’d never forget. “Are you saying she beat an infant and broke his neck?”
“The murder weapon was never found, which is why the case was closed as cold. But yes, the infant was severely beaten. Judging from the spinal damage, the neck was broken deliberately. The amount of force used indicates it was a crime of passion or hate.”
“And she was deeply devoted.”
“CARD noted Mr. Johnson had been the main pressuring force to change churches following the disappearance of the baby.”
My pa hadn’t been a stupid man. “That church didn’t like a lot of medical treatments. I remember that. I hadn’t been vaccinated for anything until elementary school, and I was only vaccinated because the school wouldn’t let me attend without the vaccines. I got only the absolutely mandatory vaccinations to attend.” She’d called me a sinner for that, too.
Unbeknownst to her, my pa had taken me in for all of my vaccinations on the sly at a different doctor, one who wouldn’t tell my ma, and he’d taken me back yearly for proper checkups.
I’d forgotten, because it hadn’t seemed like a big deal for me.
“Yes, there are records about you in this file as well, mostly about concerns regarding your medical care. CARD had tracked you until the age of eight. They made a notation that Mr. Johnson had been taking you in for supplementary treatments at a different doctor. One of the CARD agents had made contact with Mr. Johnson later to follow up with him and you, and Mr. Johnson provided CARD with your medical records.”
“Pa was concerned?”
“He’d lost one child already, and he wasn’t going to lose another.”
I could only wonder if my pa had died because he’d tried to stop my ma from continuing her vengeful attempt to kill me for how I’d been born. “Does CARD have any information on my adoption?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. There were adoption requirements for you. The Johnsons fit the requirements, which is why they won your adoption. Your biological parents requested that you be given to a lower income family who might not otherwise win an adoption. Your parents also covered all adoption fees, with the fees that would have been paid going to your care. You were to keep the locket given to you, and you were to be given information on your birth parents when you turned eighteen.”
“Wait, what? What information? They were supposed to tell me about my birth parents? I was told I was abandoned with a locket.”
“Yes, that is what the file says. I’m going to guess you were not given that information.”
“No, I wasn’t. I was told I was abandoned and was found with the locket.”
“We’ll research the situation as part of a bonus for your assistance with that matter in South Carolina. I can tell you a little, but the CARD file only has the basics. I’m actually looking at adoption records to get most of this information. You’re from Tibet.”
“I’m from where?” I blurted.
“Tibet. You’re from a rather remote region of Tibet.” There was a brief moment of silence, which was disturbed by the tapping of keys. “Sorry, I misspoke. You are from the most remote region of Tibet, Ngari. It is unknown why you were born there, but that is the location noted in your adoption record and on your original birth certificate. As you were born in such a remote place, your birth parents actually went through quite the legal battle to have you officially recognized as Tibetan. This is listed in your initial immigration record, which is bundled with your adoption records, as your US passport and birth certificate are what matter on US soil. You were properly registered in the United States upon your adoption. But, you do have an official Tibetan birth certificate, which confirms that your registered place of birth is within the Ngari region. This is a shortened translation of the documents, mind you. Your birth name is Karma Dawa. In Tibetan tradition, you only have given names. When you were brought over to the United States and issued a translated birth certificate and citizenship as part of the adoption proceedings, Dawa was removed from your name.”
“Dawa? That’s really part of my name?”
“Apparently, it means moon.”
I regarded my arm with a sigh. “I guess that’s an accurate descriptor of my skin color. Nothing about me looks Tibetan.”
“Well, you’re Tibetan. Considering how remote of a region you’re from, it’s entirely possible the family you belong to has a different appearance from other Tibetans. There is a note about your general appearances not matching the stereotypical Tibetans, but perhaps that is why you were given up for adoption. You may want to go in for some testing to discover if your appearances are related to a medical disorder of some sort, however. That said, you seem healthy enough according to these records.”
I could figure out why I was weird compared to other Tibetans: I became a fox, something I wouldn’t admit to some nameless stranger. “They lied to me about how or why I was adopted.”
“So it seems. That is a fairly common practice, although there was no chance of hiding that you were adopted.”
That was true. I’d known from my very first memory I’d been adopted. I let my breath out in a gusty sigh. “All right. So they lied to me about how I was adopted. Maybe even about why. Fine. Does that file have information on my birth parents?”
“Unfortunately, this says Mrs. Johnson claimed the packet that was supposed to be given to you, and as it was sealed, there are no records available of what it contained. However, we have your original birth certificate, so it would be trivial to get a translator to make an English copy and begin to do a search for your parents. That might become expensive.”
“Can I afford it out of my cut of the hit?”
“Easily.”
“Okay. Take what’s needed to cover the expenses.” Maybe looking into my birth family might give me a purpose in time. “How long does such an investigation normally take?”
“Considering how remote Ngari is, it will take months. We’ll have to get a local tour guide who speaks English, or find contacts, then we’ll have to pay them to conduct a search of the villages until we can find the right one, then seek out information that way. I’ll assign this to someone I know who is good at this sort of work and make sure this record is sealed from the general market. We went through so much effort to eliminate you from the picture it wouldn’t be wise to undo that immediately.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll be in touch when we know more. Expect it to take a few months for an update.”
The line went dead, and Amelia reclaimed her phone. “He’s always like that. He had other work to do, and if that work happens to visit him unexpectedly, he hangs up. That was probably not the answer you wanted.”
“No, but it was an answer. When I had behavior problems, my ma beat them out of me. She didn’t want anyone to know there was something wrong with me. We moved because of it, too. Her beatings worked. I’d just forgotten about them. But then I remembered, and I said something, and she was investigated.”
“Which ended the ruse she was the picture perfect mother, leading to her trying to get rid of you.”
“And getting rid of my pa.”
“Well, yeah. He thought of you as his little girl right up until the end. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have killed him like that.”
That was one of the few things I could still believe in. “Right.”
“Are you all right?”
“It turns out my ma is the worst mother on the face of the planet. I was told I had been abandoned with just the locket with my name on it. My pa never said otherwise. No, I don’t think I’m all right. I think you’re right. I’m going to need a lot of therapy to get over this. If I can. Can somebody just get over this?”
“I don’t know.” Amelia sighed. “Yeah, I guess it is a bit much to expect you to be all right after that. You were given up for adoption. To them, that’s abandonment. There was a locket, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see if the locket can be recovered for you. If it can be, it should be a trivial enough matter. If it’s locked away in evidence, there are ways to get it out
and make it disappear.”
No kidding. Evidence vanished with disturbing frequency, so I could readily imagine the locket could disappear and find its way into my hands. “I can believe that.”
“I know it’s hard to look on the bright side of things right now, but good things will come in time.”
“How are you so sure about that?”
“That’s just the nature of life, and you were named Karma for a reason. Maybe your parents wanted to make sure that all of the bad in your life would be balanced with good. That doesn’t seem like a bad thing to me. And right now? You’ve gotten more than your fair share of the bad, so the good things are bound to come sooner than later.”
“That is disgustingly optimistic, Amelia.”
“I like looking on the bright side. The good stuff comes eventually. It’s just a matter of when.”
It took a few days, but the black market operators found the evidence we needed to locate and eliminate one of the main cells of the group. According to our information, they had small clusters of members spread across the United States, but the branch we would wipe out represented a quarter of its strength. Like Linsc, they had a place they met, a place we could wire and detonate at a distance. We would need to check the bugs installed and confirm there were no innocents in the building before we took it out, but a pair of shapeshifters with a grudge, AKA us, could handle the work.
A wolf might draw attention, but a fox wouldn’t, not even an oddly colored fox like me. My job would be simple enough. I would dig holes around the building, plant the explosives, which were already wired and ready to rumble, and get out while Amelia handled doing a check of the building looking for people who weren’t on our list to die.
I needed some help from her to transform, and once I was a fox, the Fenerec growled. Uncertain of what I’d done wrong, I turned my ears back.
She inhaled, and after several long seconds, she released her breath in a gusty sigh. “You look like a gangly puppy, all spindly legs with a hell of a lot of growing to do. If I were to judge by your paws and ears, you’re going to be easily the match of any Fenerec when you finish growing up. We have a puppy phase, too. It just leads me to believe my guess about your aging is accurate. Therapy will help. What else I think you need will remain unspoken, as you won’t agree with me and I don’t want a fight. Alright. You’re a little larger than a regular fox, but not large enough to bust our plan. Go have a look around the building and see if you can get underneath the porch, check out the foundation, and poke your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ve got enough explosives with us to reduce that farmhouse to a fine powder and give the neighbors a shake they won’t forget. And this time, we won’t be anywhere near here when it goes.”
