"This certainly explains a lot," Skouras muttered as if speaking only to himself, "or at least, it will."
With a pen he circled a line of dashes. "Genetic marker right here," he muttered again, pointing with his pen.
"Nina's marker here." Another circle.
"Bo's markers are here," another series of highlighting, "and here".
He glanced again at the print-out that caught his interest initially, nodding at it, then passed it across the table.
"File it."
"With Bo's documentation?" Corey asked this, but was already begining to place the image in Bo's file folder, after having replaced Bo's genetic test image back.
"No," Skouras answered, annoyed and shook his head. "Under T for Tate."
"He gets his own file?"
"He may not be living here yet, but under the circumstances, he should have his own file."
Corey bobbed his head. "Yes, Dr. Skouras."
Skouras switched on the monitor and smiled as the image of a sleeping Bo Adams appeared, floating in mid air over her crib. Annoyed that Corey was still in the room, he spat out, "I believe you have work to do, Corey, as do I."
"Yes, Dr. Skouras."
Skouras didn't look after him as he meekly walked to the exit.
Once Corey left, Roman let out an audible sigh, and opened his wallet. He sighed again when his eyes fell on Alice's photo. And again when he flipped the wallet closed. And again when he stared at floating, sleeping Bo.
"Where are you, Alice? In all this world, I cannot believe you're gone. I will not believe it. I will do whatever it takes to bring you back to me."
Then he looked at Bo and smiled an evil smile. If he knew anything at all about Alice... there was one thing that was sure to bring her out of the woodwork. She'd shown her powers to be strongest when protecting someone else. But, he considered, his idea would take time. And very careful planning. After all, it wouldn't be long until Milton Winter went the way of Robert Pierreson and his wife. In the meantime, he would learn every useful thing he could about Bo Adams, and simply wait. It wouldn't do to harm the girl Alice considered her best friend.
With another rather forelorn sigh, Skouras rose to his feet, announcing to the image, "I am not a patient man."
For the millionth time since misplacing Alice, Roman Skouras closed his eyes tightly and focused his entire being on a mental image of himself and Alice, and repeated the same phrase he always used.
"Alice, where are you? It's Uncle Roman, can you hear me? Can you still hear my thoughts? Where are you? Come home, Alice. I miss you. I love you. Come home. Find me."
What he told his workers was another matter entirely. Both Symphonique and Orchestra were looking for girls Alice's age who were orphans, and perhaps exhibited either mental problems or strange beliefs of power. With each passing year, Skouras changed the age range and limits accordingly. However, only the staff at Symphonique knew that they were specifically looking for Alice Adams. It had been two years, Alice was now five years old. If she was still alive.
With another sigh, Roman switched off the monitor of Bo Adams and walked slowly out of the room.