by Dave Balcom
“Enough to keep them alive, and make me sick.”
“Really? What kind of units are we talking about?”
“I don’t know; after the second, I was sleeping most of the time, and only woke up when they poked me or fed me. I was told later that it was touch and go for all of us, but they were stable when we landed at Andrews AFB, and after six weeks of rehab, we were given R and R in Florida.”
“Oh, to be young again, heh?”
“I have never wished that on anyone, Ray; I lived it once, wouldn’t want to do it over.”
He was laughing, but he sobered up quickly, “So who do you think deposited that note in your mailbox?”
“No real idea, but I’m assuming it was one of the guys from back then, same guys I told you about, but I can’t figure out what they’d be involved with here. I can’t see something like Table of Grace attracting attention from American terrorists. It doesn’t make sense.”
“You say the soup kitchen also delivers meals to illegals and homeless folks?”
“Undocumented, maybe, but people without walls is how Grace and Elmo see it; they make only two class distinctions: hungry people and fed people. Their purpose is to turn hungry folks into fed folks. Any other distinctions, in their opinion, are a matter for Caesar.”
“I know that Bible reference, Jim.”
“They know all the Bible references, Ray, and they believe ‘the truth and the way’ are there for all to read and live by. They’re decent people.”
“Sounds like it, but there are so many people in this country who want to be Caesar with a cross ... Well, it can be difficult at times to understand what the fanatics are fighting for or why, but that’s the job and it looks like you’re in the middle of it.”
“I’m bothered more by some innocents who might be dragged into this mess.” I told him of my work with Jeremy on Maggie Lennon’s behalf. I then filled him in on Renée Rockland, nee Tollifson, and how that would be the only link back to Maggie Lennon.
“So you think word of this Maggie’s contact with Renée fed back to your old pals and they’ve started harassing her for trying to find her natural grandmother?”
“I don’t see any other avenue for the push-back she received after tracking Renée down.”
“Did this Renée tell her about the O’Connor woman’s illegitimate pregnancy?”
“No; she didn’t put it all together until I followed up. That forced her to recall more details, and it hit her while I was on the phone with her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was on the phone, so, of course, I didn’t see her wake up, but it sure sounded like she was having a slap-her-forehead moment.”
“So this Terry Rockland is one of these radicals?”
“It didn’t sound like it. Renée seemed pretty middle of the road when I met her, and sounded like it still on the phone. I’m thinking Terry might have been a useful guy to know back when Gardner and he reunited; and it’s possible there’s a true friendship there. If you don’t suspect Gardner of being a racist militant, he’s a nice guy, easy to relax with... but for all I know Terry drank the Kool Aid and is a raving supremacist when his wife’s not watching.”
“Where is this all going?”
“No idea, Ray; there’s something going on here but it’s not obvious. The Pendleton Police Chief has worked out a program where his officers can eat at Grace’s on a rotating basis, just to make sure nobody gets reckless there.”
“Chief Wilson is a good guy, according to Boyd. Speaking of good guy cops, what do you hear from Wild Bill Chance of late?”
“Nothing. I dropped him a note, asked for some more help, and haven’t heard a word since.”
Jensen stayed quiet, and I realized he was making a note. “How retired are you, Ray?”
“Not so retired that I don’t look out for my friends and friends of my friends. Now I’m going to quit this nonsense and see if I can be of some use around this place... I’ll be back in touch.”
“Say hi...” Of course, he’d already disconnected.
Chapter 30
I had just started up the road with Judy when Jeremy called. “Hey, kiddo,” I answered as I circled directly back up on the porch.
“Is this is a good time to talk?”
“Sure. I was just going for a walk, but I’d rather sit here in the shade and talk with you.”
“I read your notes, but I haven’t shared them with Maggie Lennon.”
“What’s your reservation?”
“Not sure of my role in all this. I’m not sure if it’s right to ‘out’ Karen O’Connor to her natural granddaughter, especially if that leads her to believe you’re really her long lost grandpa...”
I could hear the anxiety in his voice, and decided he needed to talk more than he needed to listen to me. The silence dragged on a bit, and then, “Dad?”
“I’m here. And I can only tell you that I’m not her grandpa...”
“But the DNA?”
“That’s baffling to me, too.”
“I’ve known you all my life, and never known you to deny anything you’d done, even when I could see how much pain the memories might be causing. You never covered up with me, but how can I expect that woman who’s never known you to believe ...”
“I hear your dilemma, Jay, but I don’t have any answer for you. If you want me to call her, I’ll do it. I’m not doubting your supposition, and I can’t begin to guess what her reaction would be.”
Jeremy’s voice changed, “I’ve been reading about people hung up on searching for their birth parents, and as often as not the answers don’t bring them any satisfaction. I can’t know if this information will give her relief or cause more pain. Sara says we shouldn’t base our decision on how she might react, but that we should do the right thing for the right reason.”
“Sounds like your sister; how much of this have you shared with her?”
“Not great detail; hell, I don’t have a lot of detail, but I trust her instincts when it comes to how women think, so I called her.” He seemed to have run out of gas, and I let him stew until he picked up the thread. “She thinks everyone has the right to know their genealogy; how they react to that knowledge isn’t for us to judge.”
“Your sister is a savvy woman.”
“So you think...”
“It’s out of my depth as what to think, son. If you decide not to tell her, I’ll abide by that; if you tell her, I’m okay with that, too. But let’s give me a day or so to chase another angle that has just come to me, okay?”
“What angle is that?”
“I’ll let you know when I have it figured out.”
We shared notes on the rest of his life, and when he was off my phone, I went up to my desk and started searching the Internet.
Chapter 31
“Doctor Jameson’s office,” The receptionist purred into the phone.
“Is Rex in today?” I asked.
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Jim Stanton.”
“Mr. Stanton, nice to hear your voice again. How are you folks doing?”
“Well, thanks. I want to tap Rex’s brilliant mind about a question of genetics.”
“Paternity issue, Mr. Stanton?” She made sure I could hear the tease in her voice, and I recalled her name.
“Pretty funny, Ms. Baker, but don’t give up your day job for standup comedy.”
That cracked her up. “He’s right here.”
I heard her say my name, and then Rex Jameson was on the phone, “What are you doing interfering with the orderly conduct of my office, Stanton?”
“I want an appointment with you. Perhaps later today if that’s possible.”
“A medical appointment or a social appointment?”
“I don’t need a pelvic exam, if that’s what you’re asking, but I do have a serious question. I wouldn’t mind asking it over a drink.”
“Five o’clock at the Stetson’s bar?”
“What kind of
crowd will that be?”
“We’ll be able to talk; it’s pretty staid. Is this a serious situation? You made it sound more casual...”
“It’s not symptoms and such, and it’s not about me or Jan; it’s a matter I’ve been researching and the topic of DNA came up. I find I’m pretty ignorant about it.”
“Oh, relieving patients of ignorance is my favorite part of the job; the Stetson bar at 5 will be perfect.”
There were three tables in use and two stools at the bar occupied when I arrived at the Stetson that afternoon.
I ordered a beer and watched the man draw it with a perfect head. I tasted it, and smiled my approval. “I love these beers from Hood River.”
The bartender nodded, “I hear a lot of that.”
I had just about finished my pilsner when Rex settled into the seat next to mine. “Pilsner?”
I nodded. He ordered one for himself and another for me. When the beers arrived, he led me to a table. “So ask away, Jim, I’m hoping this will lead to a blurb in a book.”
I gave him a chuckle, but was shaking my head at the same time. “Not working on a book this time, Rex.”
I filled him in on the mystery of Jeremy’s DNA markers matching up with a woman whose birth grandmother was an acquaintance of mine. Rex listened intently, but the man’s general good nature and love of life were never far from his eyes. He and I fished together every spring. He was a fanatic for steelhead, and the Deschutes and John Day rivers received most of his attention.
When I stopped talking, he couldn’t contain his humor, “Bush kitten, Jim?”
I rolled my eyes, and went on to tell him the rest of the story, or as much of it as I could. Now he was all business.
“So your real question is whether or not your DNA markers could have become mixed up with another man’s through a blood transfusion?”
“Pretty much.”
“Not likely. Understand that the primary material passed on in a normal blood transfusion is red blood cells. They have no nuclei, thus they have no DNA. But blood is a significant source of DNA. It’s just that there aren’t that many white blood cells compared to red cells in donated blood.”
I then told him a little bit about my military service, something I rarely mention.
“You mean they just hooked you up directly to those two men?”
“I do.”
“Barbaric.”
“Life and death.”
“Well, it could have certainly tainted their DNA for a few days, but we reprocess transfused blood in just a few days. Did you know how dangerous it was for you to do that?”
“I didn’t ask; they were gonna die; the corpsman hooked me up and then again. Finally they had me sign a permission slip, and it was done.”
“Well, what year was this?”
“Early 1973.”
“Did you ever give a sample, had a cheek swabbed or whatever, during your service?”
“If I did, it would have been when we arrived at Andrews. We were littered off the plane and rushed to the hospital. I know, or so I’m told, there’s a DNA sample in my records.”
“If those two guys were sampled at the same time, they may well have registered your markers. You think one of those two guys passed your markers on to the child?”
“It’s the only possible answer.”
“Is that woman, the mother, making trouble for you, Jim?”
“Oh, no. She died years ago, no, it’s her granddaughter who’s concerned. Her mother died young of ovarian cancer; she’s wondering if her grandmother, who she never knew, had the same problem. She’s trying to determine if she can have a baby or should she have surgery to save her life...”
“She needs to see a genetic counselor or her gynecologist. There are tests for that and she should know.”
“That’s what I told her when we spoke on the phone...”
“You know her?”
“No. But when she called Jeremy, he gave her my number. I tried to help her find her grandmother. I have a lot of history with that kind of research, and she had some luck but doesn’t know it.”
“How come she doesn’t know of her good fortune?”
I considered my answer for some seconds; “Her research may have touched a sore spot in some quarters.”
“Oh, I naturally heard ‘luck,’ and my mind went to good fortune.”
“If I’m right about where her research may have landed, there’s not much good fortune to be had there.”
He was writing a note on the back of a card. I watched as he slid it across to me. It was an Internet address.
“Try this site; pretty good source for information on blood transfusions and DNA markers. Without details on your emergency transfusions, it’s impossible for me to say with any certainty, but, unless those men were sampled right away afterwards, their DNA wouldn’t share markers with yours – hell, if they’d been sampled that day and it was recorded in their files, no matter what, their records would always point to you even if a subsequent test wouldn’t.”
Chapter 32
Leaving Stetson’s, I drove past Table of Grace and noticed lights on in the kitchen. I approached the building’s back door, and heard music playing. The door was unlocked. Ahmed Barnes was gathering boxed lunches into coolers in preparation for his deliveries. I was impressed with his recuperative ability. He was moving carefully, but with no sign of pain. He had a dolly stationed at the coolers, and I could anticipate he wasn’t inclined to heavy lifting, but he was moving well.
“Hey, Ahmed!” I said in greeting.
He was startled by the sound of my voice, but his startled look morphed into glowing smile at recognition. “Jim! What are you up to?”
“Saw your light; stopped to see if I could help.”
“I’m gaining strength every day, but I’ve been advised to use more brain and less brawn until I’m fully recovered.”
I helped him load the coolers into his van. “Mind if I ride with you tonight?”
“Not a problem, but it’s pretty boring these days.”
“Let me lock my truck,” I said trotting back to my vehicle. I retrieved my Taurus, unlocked the revolver, and trotted back to the van.
Two hours later we were picking our way down out of the mountains as the sun was painting the top of the Blues in colors “not found in nature.”
“What do you think called the bad guys off our enterprise, Jim?”
“No idea; you?”
“I think shooting me brought more heat than anyone expected, and somewhere that heat pulled ICE and the rest of the federal government back to some form of reality...”
“Where do you think that heat might have come from?”
“You know anyone at the FBI, Jim?”
“Couple of agents over the years, why?”
“Know an agent named Rhodes?”
“A bit; not well. What’s Mike done to start you thinking?”
“He met with Elmo, Grace, and I when I first came out of the hospital. We were debating the wisdom of continuing our ministry to the people without walls, and he took my side. Told us the chances of another violent attack on our ministry was almost impossible.”
“That sounds like he knew something had changed, doesn’t it?”
“What do you know of him?”
“Cautious. Thorough. He has the trust of people I trust implicitly.”
“That’s a pretty good recommendation, from what I hear about you.”
“A guy can’t control what others say; some people exaggerate.”
He snickered at that, “Some guys have a reputation; others earn one. From what I’ve heard, you’ve earned yours.”
I let that rest and we finished the ride in silence.
At home, I found Judy in the kennel waiting for me. I still had the Taurus on my belt. I let the dog out, and she did her whirly-gig impression before running into the back yard.
I eased into the kitchen. All the normal lights were on, and in seconds I knew that no one
was home. I called the Nelson’s landline phone.
“Hello, Jim,” Shirlee answered. “She’s here; are you home?”
“I am. Why didn’t she bring Judy with her?”
“I don’t know. You coming over?”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Nope, we’re fully stocked.”
I whistled Judy up and put her back in her pen. Then, walking slowly up the road, I punched in Pete Boyd’s mobile number.
“Boyd here.”
“Jim Stanton.”
“Problem?”
“Maybe. Came home, found Judy penned; Jan up at the Nelsons; received a warning from Shirlee.”
“What do you need?”
“Is there any backup nearby?”
“Hold on.”
I stopped walking as if I’d heard something in the woods near the road. I crept over, hoping anyone who might be watching me would think it normal for me to investigate rustling leaves.
“Jim? I have a car between your house and Meacham; want them on your road?”
“Maybe at our turn off? I’m going to leave my phone open in my shirt; you should be able to hear what’s going on...”
“That’ll work.”
I skirted the side of the house, making my way past the garage, following the brick pathway to the back yard where I often found the Nelsons. Light that hadn’t been visible from the road flooded portions of the backyard from the kitchen door and windows leaving the rest in shadow.
I was at the kitchen door when I heard a voice from the patio. “Thought you’d never arrive, Stanton.”
I started to turn, “Stay still!” the voice hissed.
Backlit against the patio door as I was, I didn’t see any room for debate.
“Keep your hands clear where I can see them, and you listen closely to what I have to say. Your woman and your friends are comfortable inside. They haven’t seen or heard me. I’m not here to hurt you or them, but you have to stop fucking around in my life, past or present.”
I knew that voice and my mind was spinning as I tried to connect it to a name, but I was coming up empty.
He continued, “There’s nothing good that will come of that I promise you, and I don’t have time to do this again. If the Lennon broad keeps poking into the past, or if you don’t call Chance off, I’m going to take the most efficient route to safety and let somebody else clean up the wake I leave. You understand me?”
