Or maybe I should say supposedly abandoned.''
Mrs. Knight's face paled. ''Supposedly?''
I looked at Will. ''You may have already met your birth mother, Will. We'll need your DNA to find out for sure.''
''Are you saying that's why Mrs. Olsen left me her stuff?'' He checked his parents' faces for their reaction.
''And now she's been murdered?'' Mr. Knight said. ''This is unbelievable . . . horrible.''
''We have no proof yet,'' I said, ''but since she left everything to Will and kept close tabs on him for nineteen years, her being your biological mother might explain her behavior.''
''I-I'm stunned,'' Mrs. Knight said. ''We only wanted Will to know the truth about his past. To know who he was and where he came from. Know about his African-American heritage. But to have all this happen? I'm thinking we should leave well enough alone.''
''Wait a minute, Mom,'' Will said. ''You weren't there the day I met with Dr. Rose. She told me this wouldn't be easy. That I might learn things I wished I hadn't.''
'' Dr. Rose?'' Mr. Knight looked at me. ''I'm confused. Are you a doctor?''
''No, no,'' Mrs. Knight said. ''Remember Abby told us Will would be interviewed by a psychologist, to make sure he could handle a reunion?''
Her husband nodded. ''I remember.'' He looked at Will. ''You had the interview while I was out of town. You said it went well.''
''That psychologist is Abby's sister, Dr. Kate Rose. Very sweet lady.'' Mrs. Knight smiled at me.
''Dr. Rose knows what she's talking about,'' Will said. ''She said I needed to be committed a hundred percent, just like I am to the game. Said I needed to be strong if I planned to go after this. I'm not dropping the ball because Mrs. Olsen died. We keep going. Okay, Abby?''
I nodded, lips tight. This kid was a winner in my book, even if he'd never played basketball a day in his life.
5
I left the Knight home after telling Will I'd make arrangements for him to have his blood drawn and the sample sent to the genetics lab I'd dealt with on a paternity case a few months ago. After checking in on the first floor at HPD, I rode the elevator to the homicide offices and made my way down the busy aisle to Jeff's cubicle. You've never seen paper-shuffling like what goes on at HPD. Fax machines rattled, phones rang and there was enough cursing to provide a script for hell. The place made me as nervous as a cockroach on a griddle.
But if I thought I'd get some time alone to find out what was bugging Jeff, I was wrong. Angel Molina was sitting across from him in the cluttered cubicle. Angel is my supervising PI and Jeff's good friend.
''Hey, guys,'' I said, taking the empty molded chair alongside my boss.
Angel gripped my neck, pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. The strength of his Polo cologne nearly knocked me off my chair.
''How's my best detective?'' He tugged at the cuffs of his pristine starched shirt.
I smiled. ''Was that cheek swipe you gave me a metaphor for another kind of kiss?''
''Me? Kissing butt?'' Angel said with a laugh.
''I almost believe you're sincere, except I also know you could sell sand to an Arab. What's this meeting about?'' I looked at Jeff.
''It's about working this case,'' Jeff said.
''Oh, I get it. That's why you left the Knights' house. You're pissed off because—''
''Hold on, Abby,'' Angel said. ''From my conversation with Jeff, I did not get the impression he is upset with you.''
''Why do we need you as a mediator then?'' Jeff might not be mad, but I was getting fired up and I wasn't sure why.
Angel patted my knee. ''I'm here as a friend to you both. From what Jeff's told me, your adoption investigation and his murder case seem to be trains on parallel tracks.''
''Maybe.'' I looked at Jeff, trying to read him. No such luck. His expression only revealed what had been there before. Fatigue. ''Is that your take, Jeff?''
He took out his pack
Mrs. Knight's face paled. ''Supposedly?''
I looked at Will. ''You may have already met your birth mother, Will. We'll need your DNA to find out for sure.''
''Are you saying that's why Mrs. Olsen left me her stuff?'' He checked his parents' faces for their reaction.
''And now she's been murdered?'' Mr. Knight said. ''This is unbelievable . . . horrible.''
''We have no proof yet,'' I said, ''but since she left everything to Will and kept close tabs on him for nineteen years, her being your biological mother might explain her behavior.''
''I-I'm stunned,'' Mrs. Knight said. ''We only wanted Will to know the truth about his past. To know who he was and where he came from. Know about his African-American heritage. But to have all this happen? I'm thinking we should leave well enough alone.''
''Wait a minute, Mom,'' Will said. ''You weren't there the day I met with Dr. Rose. She told me this wouldn't be easy. That I might learn things I wished I hadn't.''
'' Dr. Rose?'' Mr. Knight looked at me. ''I'm confused. Are you a doctor?''
''No, no,'' Mrs. Knight said. ''Remember Abby told us Will would be interviewed by a psychologist, to make sure he could handle a reunion?''
Her husband nodded. ''I remember.'' He looked at Will. ''You had the interview while I was out of town. You said it went well.''
''That psychologist is Abby's sister, Dr. Kate Rose. Very sweet lady.'' Mrs. Knight smiled at me.
''Dr. Rose knows what she's talking about,'' Will said. ''She said I needed to be committed a hundred percent, just like I am to the game. Said I needed to be strong if I planned to go after this. I'm not dropping the ball because Mrs. Olsen died. We keep going. Okay, Abby?''
I nodded, lips tight. This kid was a winner in my book, even if he'd never played basketball a day in his life.
5
I left the Knight home after telling Will I'd make arrangements for him to have his blood drawn and the sample sent to the genetics lab I'd dealt with on a paternity case a few months ago. After checking in on the first floor at HPD, I rode the elevator to the homicide offices and made my way down the busy aisle to Jeff's cubicle. You've never seen paper-shuffling like what goes on at HPD. Fax machines rattled, phones rang and there was enough cursing to provide a script for hell. The place made me as nervous as a cockroach on a griddle.
But if I thought I'd get some time alone to find out what was bugging Jeff, I was wrong. Angel Molina was sitting across from him in the cluttered cubicle. Angel is my supervising PI and Jeff's good friend.
''Hey, guys,'' I said, taking the empty molded chair alongside my boss.
Angel gripped my neck, pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. The strength of his Polo cologne nearly knocked me off my chair.
''How's my best detective?'' He tugged at the cuffs of his pristine starched shirt.
I smiled. ''Was that cheek swipe you gave me a metaphor for another kind of kiss?''
''Me? Kissing butt?'' Angel said with a laugh.
''I almost believe you're sincere, except I also know you could sell sand to an Arab. What's this meeting about?'' I looked at Jeff.
''It's about working this case,'' Jeff said.
''Oh, I get it. That's why you left the Knights' house. You're pissed off because—''
''Hold on, Abby,'' Angel said. ''From my conversation with Jeff, I did not get the impression he is upset with you.''
''Why do we need you as a mediator then?'' Jeff might not be mad, but I was getting fired up and I wasn't sure why.
Angel patted my knee. ''I'm here as a friend to you both. From what Jeff's told me, your adoption investigation and his murder case seem to be trains on parallel tracks.''
''Maybe.'' I looked at Jeff, trying to read him. No such luck. His expression only revealed what had been there before. Fatigue. ''Is that your take, Jeff?''
He took out his pack
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