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.“When the police got involved,” Fred Quincy is saying, “they did ask for a few things that might have their DNA.Hairbrush, toothbrush, I forget what else.I never heard anything about what they did with the stuff.”“They probably never analyzed it,” Lucy says, thinking about what she and Marino just talked about.“Possibly it’s still in their evidence room.We can ask them about it, but I’d rather not wait.”The suggestion that someone may have gained access to her system’s administrative password is incredible.It’s sickening.Marino must be mistaken.She can’t stop thinking about it.“Obviously, the case isn’t a priority for them.They’ve always believed they just ran off.There was no sign of violence,” Fred says.“They said there should have been a sign of a struggle, or someone should have seen something.It was the middle of the morning, and there were people around.And Mom’s SUV was missing.”“I was told her car was there.An Audi.”“It definitely wasn’t.And she didn’t have an Audi.I did.Someone must have seen my car when I got there later, looking for them.Mom had a Chevy Blazer.She used it to haul things around.You know, people get things so twisted.I went to the shop after trying to call all day.My mom’s purse and Blazer were gone, and there was no sign of her or my sister.”“Any sign they had ever been inside the shop?”“Nothing was on.The closed sign was out.”“Anything missing?”“Not that I could tell.Certainly nothing obvious.Nothing in the cash drawer, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.If she left money in it overnight, it wasn’t much.Something must have come up if you suddenly need their DNA.”“I’ll let you know,” Lucy says.“We may have a lead.”“You can’t tell me?”“I promise I’ll let you know.What was your first thought when you went looking for them, drove to the shop?”“Truth? I thought maybe they’d never gone there at all, had just driven off somewhere over the rainbow.”“Why do you put it like that?”“There had been a lot of problems.Financial ups and downs.Personal problems.Dad had this extremely successful landscaping business.”“In Palm Beach.”“That’s where it was headquartered.But he had greenhouses and tree farms in other locations, including around here.Then, in the mid-eighties, he got wiped out by citrus canker.Every damn one of his citrus trees had to be destroyed, and he had to let go of almost all of his employees and came very close to declaring bankruptcy.That was hard on Mom.He got back on his feet and was more successful then, and that was hard on Mom, too.You know, I’m not sure I should be telling you all this.”“Fred, I’m trying to help.I can’t do it if you don’t talk to me.”“Let me start with when Helen was twelve,” he says.“I was beginning my freshman year in college.I’m older, obviously.Helen went to live with my dad’s brother and his wife for about six months.”“Why?”“It was sad, such a pretty, talented girl.Got into Harvard when she was only sixteen, lasted not even a semester, had a meltdown and came home.”“When?”“That would have been the fall before she and Mom disappeared.She only lasted until November—at Harvard.”“Eight months before she and your mother disappeared?”“Yes.Helen was dealt a really lousy genetic hand.”He pauses as if trying to decide whether he should go on, then, “All right.My mom wasn’t the most stable person.You might have already figured that out, her Christmas obsession.Craziness, more craziness, on and off for as long as I can remember.But it got really bad when Helen was twelve.Mom was doing some pretty irrational things.”“Was she seeing a local psychiatrist?”“Whatever money could buy.That celebrity one.She lived in Palm Beach back then.Dr.Self.She recommended hospitalization.That’s the real reason she sent Helen off to live with my aunt and uncle.Mom was in the hospital, and Dad was really busy and not inclined to take care of a twelve-year-old kid all by himself.Mom came home.Then Helen did and neither of them were, well, normal.”“Did Helen go to a psychiatrist?”“Not at that time,” Fred says.“She was just strange.Not unstable like Mom but strange.She did well in school, really well, then went off to Harvard and crashed and burned, was found in the lobby of some funeral home up there, didn’t know who she was.As if things weren’t bad enough, Dad died.Mom went into a real downhill spiral, would go places on the weekends, not tell me where she was, freaking me out.It was awful.”“So the police figured she was unstable and into disappearing acts, and maybe ran off with Helen?”“I wondered it myself.I still wonder if my mom and sister are out there somewhere.”“How did your dad die?”“Fell off a ladder in the rare-book library.The house in Palm Beach was three stories, everything marble and stone tiles.”“He home alone when it happened?”“Helen found him on the first-floor landing.”“She was the only one in the house at the time?”“A boyfriend, maybe.Don’t know who.”“When was this?”“A couple months before she and Mom disappeared.Helen was seventeen then, precocious.Well, truthfully, after she came home from Harvard, she was completely out of control.I’ve always wondered if it was a reaction to my dad, my uncle, the people on my dad’s side of the family.Extremely religious and serious, Jesus this, Jesus that, big in their churches.Deacons, Sunday-school teachers, always trying to witness to people.”“You ever meet any of Helen’s boyfriends?”“No.She ran around, would disappear for days.Just trouble.I didn’t come home if I didn’t have to.Mom’s Christmas obsession is such a joke.It was never Christmas in our house.It was always pretty damn awful.”He gets up from the table.“Mind if I have a beer?”“Help yourself.”He picks out a Michelob, twists off the cap.He shuts the refrigerator door and sits back down.“Was your sister ever hospitalized?” Lucy asks.“Same place Mom was.For a month right after she dropped out of Harvard.Club McLean, I called it.The good ole family genes.”“McLean in Massachusetts?”“Yup.You ever take notes? I don’t know how you can remember all this.”Lucy fingers the pen she’s holding, the small recorder turned on and invisible in her pocket.“We need your mom’s and sister’s DNA,” she says.“I don’t have any idea how we’re going to get it now.Unless the police still have that stuff.”“Yours will work.Think of it as family-tree DNA,” Lucy says.59Scarpetta looks out the window at the cold, white street.It is almost three, and she has been on the phone most of the day.“What kind of screening do you have? You must have some system in place for controlling who makes it on the air,” she says.“Of course.One of the producers talks to the person, makes sure he isn’t crazy.”It seems an odd choice of words for a psychiatrist
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