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Darby
We checked with the building manager. He’d never heard the name of Winifred Labbee in his life. “That apartment is a demo. It’s been a demo as long as I’ve been here, and that’s five years.”
I glanced at Mark. “Put out a BOLO?”
He nodded.
I put in the be on the lookout order as we headed for the cruiser, then requested a meet with the captain.
“Do you see anything in the records on an electric bill or something?” Mark asked as he took the controls.
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing other than the records for the DSHA. Surely they had to know where she lived?”
He shrugged.
“It’s like she erased all data about herself from the system,” I went on. “Why would she do that?”
“We’re missing something, something big,” Mark said. “Do you think we should go back to the DSHA, ask around?”
I winced. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay as far away from that place as I possibly could.
“Maybe I could go in and talk to some of the workers, and you could work from the parking lot on your glass?”
This was a more acceptable idea, and I agreed.
Ten minutes later, we pulled up, and I told Mark if I came up with anything, I’d send him a message.
I watched him head inside, relieved again to have the space to myself.
Then I dove into the research.
Turned out, Winifred wasn’t near as clean as the initial pass had indicated.
She’d done some service in the military, for which she’d received a dishonorable discharge five years into her contract. No information on why. However it surprised me because I didn’t think you could get a government job with a dishonorable on your record. I asked Nettie to check on it.
I kept reading on Winifred’s record. She’d had a gap in employment for a year after her military service, and then she’d joined the DSHA. She’d been there nine years. She’d had a few issues in the year when she wasn’t working, including a drunk and disorderly charge, and a drunk driving report a few weeks after that initial. She’d done some counseling, a very brief stint in jail, but had had the charges dropped.
Still, having a drinking problem didn’t equivocate to one day killing your coworker.
I sipped at a cup of coffee while I read.
Winifred was unmarried but had a child, now eleven, who lived in St. Louis with the child’s father. No record of marriage. She had been maybe 23 or 24 when the boy was born. Why wasn’t she living with her son?
I got down to the end, and my jaw nearly dropped. I fumbled for my comm and called Mark.
He answered, but audio only. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got something here, something big.”
“What’s that?”
“Listen to this report: Winifred Labbee, aged twelve, is confirmed to carry superhuman genetic markers. The report goes on, but there’s no word on what her powers are.”