St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

sequence is being reproduced and you’ll have two identical sequences where before you just had one. And if my genetics professor could hear me now, he’d be tearing out his hair with all the stuff I’m not mentioning.”
    “Keep skimming the surface,” Dan said, smiling.
    Carly blew out a frustrated breath. “The change in the sequence is passed along to the next generation. To way oversimplify, you have a haplotype 5 where you had a haplotype 4, that is, five repeats of a specific sequence instead of four, but nothing material changes in the organism that is born. It’s a mutation that doesn’t matter to anyone but geneticists. Still with me?”
    “Just don’t give me a pop quiz.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Hey, you’re the one who asked me to explain. I’m doing my best.”
    “I’m listening, Carolina May.”
    She looked at his intent, intensely green eyes and believed him. “The numbers going down the right-hand column on each page of the sheets are various mtDNA haplotype sequences. Winifred’s and Sylvia’s and Liza’s are exactly the same through all haplotype sequences. The Senator’s is very different, of course. He got his mtDNA from his own mother. Josh got his from Sylvia. See this number? Then this one?”
    Dan leaned down to look at a highlighted number. “It’s not the same.”
    “Right. All the other haplotype sequences are a dead match except for that one, which means there was a mutation in Sylvia’s germ cell that was passed on to her son, Josh.”
    “What about Liza?”
    “Nope. But your mother has the same mutation.”
    Dan looked at the sheets, absorbing the implications of the highlighted numbers. “Is that possible?”
    “Anything’s possible. But this one is about as probable as two people having identical fingerprints.”
    “Not worth betting on.”
    “Not with my money.”
    “What do you need to sort this out?”
    “I’d like to see if you have the same mutation.”
    “No problem.” He punched up a familiar number on the cell phone. “Cheryl? Yeah, it all came through perfectly. Now we need mine for comparison.” He winced at whatever she said. “Two pounds of really fine dark chocolate? A bottle of two-hundred-dollar champagne? Both. Right.” He punched out.
    “Bribery?” Carly asked, smiling.
    “Grease makes the wheels go round.”
    “I’ll get one of the test kits for you.”
    “No need.” He went to his computer. “My genetic profile is already on record with the lab.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “To make double-damn sure any remains that are found in some backwater are really mine.”
    “I don’t like the sound of that.”
    “So far, so good. Gotta watch those climbing accidents, though.” Dan’s e-mail pinged. He opened the file and printed it. “Here you go. Without your highlighting it all looks like the same old same old to me.”
    Carly grabbed the paper and looked at it. And looked again. She checked the date on the file. It had been created three years ago.
    “That’s because it is,” she said, frowning.
    “What?”
    “The same old same old.” Carly put Dan’s genetic profile down next to Josh’s.
    They were identical.

TAOS
MARCH
EPILOGUE
    CARLY SMILED AS SHE WORKED TO TRANSLATE A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SPANISH document describing boundary markers on Castillo family common woodlands. Through a series of twists and turns that would have made Winifred grin, Diana Duran was now the legal owner of the Quintrell/Castillo lands, livestock, and buildings. At first Dan’s mother had refused anything to do with the Senator’s ranch. Then Dan had pointed out how much good would come if she turned the ranch into a safe place for children whose own homes were violent.
    “Here it comes,” Dan said.
    Gus wandered in from Dan’s kitchen, gnawing on a chicken wing. Garlic chicken, of course, and the house smelled like it.
    Jansen Worthy’s solemn face filled the TV screen at Dan’s house. Slowly the camera pulled back. Behind him Governor Josh Quintrell, hands duly cuffed behind him, was being led by Taos County sheriff Mike Montoya to a waiting squad car. Whatever Jansen Worthy was saying was muted. Dan didn’t need a media spinmeister to tell him what was happening.
    Carly set aside the papers and sat next to Dan on the bed. Together they stared at the governor as he stopped to face the herd of reporters shoving microphones in his face. He stood tall, straight, and faced the camera directly. Wind ruffled his silver hair and