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“Rebecca Sutcliff has one, too.”
“You have her medical records?”
“Ummm. You heard her tell the paramedics she was in an accident sixteen years ago. Same kind of thing, run off the road. Guess which road.” She looked up at him.
He was lifting his cup to his lips but hesitated. “You’re shittin’ me.” He knew what she was going to say before the words crossed her lips.
“I’m definitely not. She was run off the road not far from Elsie on Highway 26, but taken to a hospital in Portland.”
“Ocean Park wasn’t much then,” he said, wired by the new information and looking closer as she moved from one computer screen to the next.
“Anyway, I got the medical report. She was relatively unhurt, but pregnant and lost the baby.”
“Shit.”
“And there was a report of a bone spur…same spot as Jezebel Brentwood’s. And so I did a little more checking, pulled military records on her father, medical records on her mother, and here’s the kicker. They both have O positive blood; Rebecca Ryan is B neg.”
“They aren’t her parents,” he said flatly.
“Not biologically.”
“So she and Jessie have the same parents, but they’re not the Ryans.”
“Both of ’em must have come through the same adoption agency, or attorney, or whatever.”
“In Portland? How’d they both end up at St. Elizabeth’s?” Mac wondered.
“Coincidence, maybe. Jessie was a runaway and had burned through a lot of schools by the time she was sent to St. Lizzie’s.”
“The Brentwoods don’t like to talk about her. Don’t want to me
ntion her adoption or anything about it.”
Gretchen gazed at him through her narrowed Siamese cat eyes. “Think the asswipe that ran Sutcliff and Walker off the road last night knows something about this?”
Mac actually grinned at her. “You’re starting to think like me, Sandler. Making connections out of nothing.”
“Not such a leap. You think he’s the same guy who stabbed Jessie.”
“He’s certainly a person of interest.”
As he headed for the door, she yelled, “Bring me back some saltwater taffy this time, cheap ass.”
Becca hung around the hospital and waited. She’d just grabbed a cup of decaf tea and a newspaper at a kiosk in the lobby when her phone rang. She caught the glare of an older woman with a fluff of white hair piled high on her head who silently dared her to answer. The woman’s gaze moved to a sign stating the hospital was a “cell phone free zone” and Becca took the hint as she checked Caller ID. Seeing the number was Sam McNally’s, she answered as she walked across a carpeted hall and through the automatic doors of the main entrance to the outside.
She wasn’t alone. Another man was nearly yelling into his phone while he paced back and forth and smoked.
“Hello?” she said. “Detective.”
“How are you doing?”
“Okay, everything considered.”
“And Hudson?”
“He’s going to be fine. How’s Ringo? And your son?”
McNally brought her up to date quickly on where Ringo was and how Levi had surprised him by rising to the “animal responsibility” level so fast. They were both with his ex-wife for the day. At least Ringo was safe, she thought as the rain slowly let up and the guy who’d been nearly screaming into his phone had walked back inside.
