them filled out at the next visit.”
“And you sent them to her home address?”
“I suppose. It would have been whatever address we had on file for her. Whether it was her home address or not, I really couldn’t say.”
I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair, thinking on what that meant. Knowing that Mary Jones’ “home” address was Riley’s shop clearly indicated at least one fact: Riley had certainly known something. Unfortunately, there was no getting any information from him now.
“Well, I’ve been trying to track her down,” I said. “From what I’ve been able to find out, it doesn’t look like she ever gave you guys her real address. The phone number was probably bogus as well. And the name – Mary Jones?”
“Let me guess,” my host said. “That’s fake, too.”
“Most likely.”
She sighed. “That’s going to make it hard to find her.”
“Well, do you recall anything about her that might help locate her? Did she ever mention any relatives or where she was from?”
Mrs. Gutierrez shook her head. “Not that I recall, but she wasn’t really one for small talk. Plus, it was almost twenty years ago.”
“How about distinguishing features or characteristics”
“No…”
“A birthmark? A scar?”
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just been too lo–”
Mrs. Gutierrez stopped mid-sentence and frowned; her eyes shifted back and forth quickly, as if she was trying to work out a difficult math problem in her head. I kept silent, not wanting to break her concentration. However, after maybe thirty seconds had gone by and she still hadn’t said anything, my curiosity got the better of me.
“What is it?” I asked.
My question seemed to startle Mrs. Gutierrez slightly; she had clearly been in her own world for a few moments there.
“A tattoo,” she finally said. “Mary had a tattoo.”
“What did it look like?”
She made a vague gesture with her hands. “I don’t remember exactly. It was a small thing, on her wrist – something like a funny-looking snake wrapped around a ball or something, with the snake’s head sticking up on top.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no. This is extremely helpful.”
We spent a few more minutes talking, but it was clear that I had gotten as much useful information as possible from Mrs. Gutierrez, and it had been far more than I ever anticipated. I thanked her for her time and left.
Chapter 19
I filled my companions in on my conversation with Mrs. Gutierrez as we drove to Locke Infinite (or rather, the lot where we’d parked the last time). Smokey gave me a sympathetic glance when I mentioned Mary Jones’ attitude towards her baby, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to dwell on it anyway; we were about to head back into Locke Infinite, and I needed to get my game face on, not spend time fretting about how a woman who may or may not have been my mother had treated her unborn child.
Getting inside the storage facility was essentially a repeat of our antics from a few nights before. From hiding our clothes by the tree to shutting off the power to slipping into the vault wearing our stealth suits and night vision goggles, it was as if some celestial being had hit the “Replay” button on a cosmic remote. In short, within just a few minutes of entering the place, we had returned the data tape to the box we’d found it in and were on our way out. We were just about to exit the building when something akin to an air raid siren sounded from outside for about ten seconds.
Hand on the door, Smokey turned to me and Li in alarm. “What the hell was that?”
“Judging from the decibel range and the sound wave produced, I would surmise it was an air horn,” Li said.
Even with the goggles on, Smokey appeared confused. “Why would anybody be sounding an air horn at this place?”
“Because the security system is down!” I whispered fiercely. When Smokey still didn’t seem to
“And you sent them to her home address?”
“I suppose. It would have been whatever address we had on file for her. Whether it was her home address or not, I really couldn’t say.”
I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair, thinking on what that meant. Knowing that Mary Jones’ “home” address was Riley’s shop clearly indicated at least one fact: Riley had certainly known something. Unfortunately, there was no getting any information from him now.
“Well, I’ve been trying to track her down,” I said. “From what I’ve been able to find out, it doesn’t look like she ever gave you guys her real address. The phone number was probably bogus as well. And the name – Mary Jones?”
“Let me guess,” my host said. “That’s fake, too.”
“Most likely.”
She sighed. “That’s going to make it hard to find her.”
“Well, do you recall anything about her that might help locate her? Did she ever mention any relatives or where she was from?”
Mrs. Gutierrez shook her head. “Not that I recall, but she wasn’t really one for small talk. Plus, it was almost twenty years ago.”
“How about distinguishing features or characteristics”
“No…”
“A birthmark? A scar?”
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just been too lo–”
Mrs. Gutierrez stopped mid-sentence and frowned; her eyes shifted back and forth quickly, as if she was trying to work out a difficult math problem in her head. I kept silent, not wanting to break her concentration. However, after maybe thirty seconds had gone by and she still hadn’t said anything, my curiosity got the better of me.
“What is it?” I asked.
My question seemed to startle Mrs. Gutierrez slightly; she had clearly been in her own world for a few moments there.
“A tattoo,” she finally said. “Mary had a tattoo.”
“What did it look like?”
She made a vague gesture with her hands. “I don’t remember exactly. It was a small thing, on her wrist – something like a funny-looking snake wrapped around a ball or something, with the snake’s head sticking up on top.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no. This is extremely helpful.”
We spent a few more minutes talking, but it was clear that I had gotten as much useful information as possible from Mrs. Gutierrez, and it had been far more than I ever anticipated. I thanked her for her time and left.
Chapter 19
I filled my companions in on my conversation with Mrs. Gutierrez as we drove to Locke Infinite (or rather, the lot where we’d parked the last time). Smokey gave me a sympathetic glance when I mentioned Mary Jones’ attitude towards her baby, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to dwell on it anyway; we were about to head back into Locke Infinite, and I needed to get my game face on, not spend time fretting about how a woman who may or may not have been my mother had treated her unborn child.
Getting inside the storage facility was essentially a repeat of our antics from a few nights before. From hiding our clothes by the tree to shutting off the power to slipping into the vault wearing our stealth suits and night vision goggles, it was as if some celestial being had hit the “Replay” button on a cosmic remote. In short, within just a few minutes of entering the place, we had returned the data tape to the box we’d found it in and were on our way out. We were just about to exit the building when something akin to an air raid siren sounded from outside for about ten seconds.
Hand on the door, Smokey turned to me and Li in alarm. “What the hell was that?”
“Judging from the decibel range and the sound wave produced, I would surmise it was an air horn,” Li said.
Even with the goggles on, Smokey appeared confused. “Why would anybody be sounding an air horn at this place?”
“Because the security system is down!” I whispered fiercely. When Smokey still didn’t seem to
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