PART EIGHT : " Consanguinity "

The man from the parking lot discreetly followed the motorcycle and the agents following her. Past Totem Lake, through Bothell and into a small town called Kenmore. Not a town really anymore, sort of a semi-populated backroad truck stop, though to be truthful it was never really more than that anyway.

She turned onto a dirt road, and he'd been forced to continue down the road, passing the agents car which had pulled off on the side. He'd find another way to follow; the map he kept checking showed this was the only road in or out of the property it led to.

* * * * *


Max had almost shot past the turn-off onto the property. The address wasn't indicated and there was no sign on the side of the road with a street name, but she figured from the box numbers she passed prior that this road had to be the address. Wouldn't hurt to check it out, anyway.

Driving up the road, which was little more than a dirt pathway just wide enough for one car going one way, she reveled at the number of trees that guided the path. Very secluded, but it occurred to her that it would be too easy to block it off if someone wanted to; either to keep someone out or to keep someone in. She'd have to keep an eye out for traps or tricks.

A mile and a half up the small, winding path she came across a wide clearing with a house, garage and a barn. When she pulled up to the house and turned off the bike, she could hear the birds and the rustling of the forest. She knocked on the door and waited. She didn't hear anything inside the house nor any activity going on in the garage or the barn.

Trying the door, she was surprised to find it unlocked. Nobody in Seattle left their door unlocked if they wanted to keep their belongings. She knew however that in some communities it was a little more relaxed in some ways; like the small town of Haven where everyone knew everyone. That was when she noticed the tell-tale sign of scraping along the wood near the lock on the door and the inside bolt. Someone had broken in, but not busted in. Whomever it was hadn't wanted anyone inside to know they were here. She didn't think they were pro's... a professional would have picked the lock and not left evidence.

She considered calling into the house, but if the intruder was still here that would be careless. What the heck, if it's a trap then they'll expect me to walk in anyway. she thought. Entering the front hallway, she was struck by how cozy it felt, or would have felt if she wasn't so busy being cautious.

First she scoped the house out, checked each room silently to see if any intruders were afoot. The markings could have been from the owners having locked themselves out of the house, but the marks had looked fresh by at least a couple hours. Though there didn't seem to be anyone here and there weren't any signs of a mess, she got the impression from long experience that whomever had broken in had been here and left.

Walking back downstairs into the living room; she found a fireplace, a television set and pictures of what she assumed to be the residents of the home. One picture had a man about 30ish, a couple of woman about the same age as the man with his arm around one of the women, a little boy and an infant. Obviously pre-pulse, it was taken at a carnival of some kind. She also found a couple of photo albums in a buffet drawer, containing various pictures.

The latest photos showed the woman who had the man's arm around her in the early photo to be in her late thirties or early forties and two young teens. It seemed odd to her that there seemed to be no recent pictures of the man, until she came across a newspaper article that announced an automobile accident involving the death of the driver about thirteen years ago, a Mr. Mark Bradford; who's photo in the clipping matched the man in the pictures.

She noted from the names under the pictures that the woman's name was Sharon and the kids were David and Heather. Max was so engrossed in the pictures that she didn't even notice the shadow crossing the door-frame.

"What are you doing in our house?" the boy at the door demanded. Max was so startled that she almost dropped the photo albums on the floor.

"I didn't know anyone was home." Max answered, after putting the pictures back in the drawer. "Is your mother here? I need to ask her some questions."

The boy looked at her, unconvinced. "She's in the woods, she'll be here shortly. You just stay right where you are. What were you doing with our pictures?"

Max looked at him, head tilted slightly. "You must be David. I'm sorry we got off on a bad foot, I shouldn't have come in without asking but no one was here, and I was waiting for you guys to come back. My name's Max."

David frowned; "What kind of name is Max for a girl?" She shrugged, "Beats the one I was born with. Did you know someone was messing with your lock?" He didn't even look at the door. "Yeah, we were checking the grounds to see if anything had been disturbed and I heard you coming up the path with your motorbike."

He grunted, "You didn't answer my question, how come you had our pictures out?" She pointed to the pictures on the fireplace mantel. "I saw those and I was curious. But you're right, I shouldn't have touched your stuff without you being here."

"Shouldn't have touched what?" an adult female voice inquired. Both Max and David turned to see a brunette woman about 2 inches taller than Max walk through the door. Her tone wasn't angry, but cautious.

Max stood. "I'm sorry, my name's Max. I saw marks on your door and thought there might be a thief here. I came into the house to make sure everyone was safe; you can check to make sure I didn't steal anything if you want. I checked to make sure there wasn't anyone robbing you and when I didn't find anyone I sat down and started looking at your pictures to pass the time while I waited. Are you Sharon?" God, I'm so nervous I'm rambling... she thought to herself.

The woman nodded. "I'm going to presume you aren't part of the group or persons who broke in. I'm a fair judge of character, although I don't care for people rummaging through my house under any circumstances. David, go upstairs and check the rooms again to make sure whomever jimmied the door isn't still here, take the shotgun. So, what do you want here, Max?"

Max decided not to mention that she had already checked the house, they'd feel better if they checked it personally anyway. She was quiet for a bit. She wasn't exactly sure how to ask this woman something that she had wondered her entire life.

Looking at Sharon, she decided not to waste anyone's time. "I don't suppose you were part of a government medical project around the turn of the century?"

The woman's expression didn't change. Then a shadow crossed her face and she motioned Max over to the dining room table where they sat down. "No," she said slowly "but my sister worked for the government around that time in the medical field."

Max couldn't believe her ears. "I've been looking for her for some time, if she's the right person. Can you give me her name and how to get ahold of her?" she asked. "And maybe tell me a little about her?" she added hopefully.

Sharon looked at her curiously. "Her name was Michelle Cardova. Cardova is my maiden name. She was a nurse at some kind of government base in Wyoming from 1998 until around late August of 2000 when she had some kind of nervous breakdown."

"She was transferred to a psychiatric facility and was released two years later. Our mother and father filed a law-suit; the drugs or whatever treatment they used gave her some kind of amnesia. She lost about 3 years of memories. They settled out of court, and Michelle came to stay with us here in Washington since we have lots of room."

She looked up at Max. "Thirteen years ago my husband and Michelle left to go pick up my parents at the airport. I couldn't go because I couldn't get a replacement that day at the hospital I worked at. There was an accident, and both my husband and sister were killed. They had been taking the back roads apparently to avoid heavy traffic. I guess no one will ever know what happened."

Max felt devastated and yet somehow relieved. She felt anguish at learning that her mother was dead, but at least she knew what happened to her. She inquired; "The newspaper article only mentioned your husband. Why doesn't it mention her?"

She glanced up at Max, "Well, they never really found the bodies, just the mangled up car. I was the only one who knew Michelle was with him in the car, and as it turned out they couldn't spend a lot of time looking. You see, that was the day the Pulse hit. The first of June in '09." Oops, Max thought. Musta missed that in the article...

Sharon leaned back and appraised her. "Why do you want to know about Michelle?" she asked.

"Well," Max began, "I believe that your sister gave birth to me while working at the government facility. I've been looking for her for more than a decade. It seems now I may have found her, and you. If what you say is true, then it's possible that you're my aunt."

"How touching." called Ames White from the front door, with his gun aimed at Max. "I hate to break up a family reunion, but we really must be going."