Alien Taste by Wen Spencer Page B

paranoid.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThis man, this very bad man, is curious about you, and he knows your name. I’m doing a search on your name to see what he can learn about you.”
    Ukiah glanced up the driveway to his mothers’ house. “He’s not coming here?”
    His driver’s license photo came up on the Pennsylvania Motor Vehicle database. Name: Ukiah Oregon. Address: 145 Maryland Avenue, Pittsburgh. He blinked at it and pulled out his wallet to check the hard copy. “The office address?” He flipped through his wallet. His private detective license. His weapons permit. His motorcycle registration. “They’re all to the office.”
    â€œTechnically, my house. Gifts of my paranoia. We were heading into Annie Krueler’s kidnapping trial when we started to establish your identity. I wanted to make sure you were safe from any stray idiots, so we put my house down as your residence. If anyone official questioned it, we were going to say you lived with me.”
    Three years ago he had been too ignorant to even notice the oddity of his paper trail. Now he knew where the holes could develop. “What about next of kin? Who to contact in case of emergency? Life insurance beneficiary?”
    â€œWe figured all the angles. I’m listed for next of kin, emergency contact, and beneficiary.”
    â€œMom Jo agreed to this?”
    â€œShe hated it. You would have thought I was trying to steal you with legal mumbo-jumbo, but Lara pointed out that it was for your safety and Cally’s.”
    â€œSo the farm is safe?” Ukiah shifted the Hummer down into first.
    Max nodded, but the worried look remained.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Tuesday, June 16, 2004
Evans City, Pennsylvania
    His five-year-old sister, Cally, was in the front yard when they pulled up, playing with a mix of Tonka trucks and Barbie dolls in the sandbox. She sprang to her feet and ran to the Hummer shouting, “Ukiah’s home! Max is here!”
    She slammed into Ukiah’s legs and hugged them hard, giggling as if all the joy of the world was flowing in her. “You’re home! You’re home! Mommy said you were sick and might not be home for a while.”
    Ukiah tousled her curly black hair, soft as puppy fur. “I got better and Max brought me home.”
    â€œI’m so glad. I prayed special for you last night. Do you think God heard me and made you better?”
    â€œI’m sure of it, pumpkin.” Ukiah shook his head, amazed at how much Cally seemed to love him for how little time he had spent with her over the last three years. He left in the morning before she was awake and often worked days in a row, doing stakeouts or traveling cross-country for out-of-state jobs. Yet every time she saw him, she showered him with a child’s pure, strong love.
    It amazed him more because when she was born,he had been miserably jealous of her. Envious of the time his moms took caring for her. Covetous of the love they showered on her. Resentful that they never seemed angry with her. His moms and the farm had been his whole world, and Cally had suddenly appeared to take it all away. He’d sit in his tree house and sulk whenever she was awake.
    His change of heart had come when he started to work with Max. It gave him a new, all-consuming world to explore. Slowly he left his childhood behind, and at some time arrived at being an adult. The farm was still a comforting retreat, but it wasn’t his life. With no need to compete, he’d been able to stand Cally’s presence, then welcome it.
    Mom Lara came out of the house and hugged Ukiah warmly. She smelt of yeast, sweat, and honey. Her gold hair was swept up into a bun, and flour streaked her face. White hand prints—her own and Cally’s little ones—decorated her blue jeans and crisp linen shirt. “Oh Ukiah.” She gave him a radiant smile. “I’m so glad you’re home in one