Chapter 18

Deirdre and I waited while her father considered the information about Hazel. His face darkened as he chewed on the possibility that his sons’ ex was a violent, psychotic, child molester. His struggle was transparent and I felt for him, because the memories ripped me apart inside and I never knew Ross or his family. To think of your own son as the impetus for what Hazel did to me had to be tearing him to shreds inside.

Deirdre took my hand and led me to their car, letting her dad deal with his emotions in private. She beckoned me inside with her. The interior was quiet and cool. The shade felt good, as did the soft leather seats. She gaze at me like one would examine a precious stone accidentally discovered in a pile of trash. Her face was alive as she gazed at me on the seat across from her.

“I know you’re Terry. We have looked for you for so long. Daddy needs time to deal with what you just told him. He never had the slightest bit of respect for Clarice. She was a nasty, self-centered, bitch and if she is the one that hurt you, then I’m glad she got killed in jail.” She was seething inside. Her face showed a strength and anger I was surprised to see.

Deirdre looked at me for a long moment and her anger dissolved into something that resembled despair. Tears ran down her face as she spoke to me. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you. Nolan got some girl in trouble and ran off to, ‘do the right thing.’ He was young and stupid, but the woman he knocked up was just another gold digger, and when Daddy’s lawyer discovered she had a habit of claiming to be pregnant and extorting men, she killed Nolan and disappeared with the baby ... That was you.” She reached across the distance between us and held my hand while I tried to absorb what all that meant.

Holy cow ... Ross’ back story was tragic.

Deirdre was still talking. “When Nolan was found with his throat slit, Daddy nearly lost it. He hired people to track her down and rescue you, but she had a talent for hiding, and we never got close until your story appeared on the local news and Daddy’s head of security called to say that the private detective had a hunch that the boy in the story might be you.” She talked on while I could see her father on his cell phone giving someone instructions of some kind.

“It took some time for him to find a good excuse to start asking questions about you, who you were, and where you came from. When it came out that the bitch kept you like a hostage and no one really knew that you existed, Daddy was determined to find out if you were our Terry.

“Daddy has two DNA kits with him. He wants to take one test and have you take the other. The lab can tell us if you are closely related and clear up any question anyone might ever have.” She stopped and looked at me like I was a space alien. “Terry? You have to be our Terry. It isn’t possible for a boy to look so much like him and not be his son.” She was crying and I moved to her side and held her while she wept.

Long after Deirdre regained control and dried her eyes, Mr. Wellington put his phone away and joined us in the car. He looked older than when we talked outside. Some of the news he’d received must have been disheartening. “I’ve been talking to my lawyers and they are in agreement that we should both be tested for a partial DNA match. The tests are quite simple. All we need to do is rub this small foam block on the inside of our cheeks and Joseph will take them straight to the lab, where they will be tested to establish our relationship.” He smiled so sadly, that I realized he was hurting. Meeting me had dredged up all the old, ugly memories of his son’s murder.

“Not wanting to make things any harder, I smiled back. “Mr. Wellington, I am happy to cooperate any way that helps give you some peace about this.” His answer was a fuller, healthier smile and a pat on the back.

Deirdre watched as we swabbed our cheeks and sealed the evidence inside the plastic bags provided. With our business done, it made sense that I should head back to Sienna’s and wait for her to get home from work. I gave them Sienna’s address and invited them to come and meet her and Jeanette, later in the day. I knew I’d have to make sure Jeanette was available, but I suspected that they would be far too curious to let anything get in the way of meeting the Wellingtons.

Mr. Wellington looked long and hard at the two sealed DNA samples, handed them to his driver, and said, “Please get these to the lab with all possible haste. Tell them I want these tested as quickly and accurately as possible.”

The man simply nodded and prepared to put the limo in gear. I took that as I my cue to make my exit. “Sir, I gave you the address of one of my foster parents. It is not far from here. I know that all three will want to meet and hear your story. If it does turn out that we are related, that likely changes so many things. One of my foster parents is a prosecuting attorney and has filed, or is filing, a series of lawsuits against the estates of the people who we know were involved in abusing me. One of them was the state’s Attorney General. Jeanette Wilmont is one of my fosters and she will surely want to be involved in all of this, because the Attorney General had her shot, while he was trying to have me killed.”

It was a long speech, but they had Sienna’s address and Jeanette’s name. Instead of dragging out our meeting, I said, “Thank you so much for finding me. Even if we’re not family, it was wonderful to meet you both...”

Mr. Wellington was about to speak, when Deirdre beat him to it. “I am certain you are Terry. It’s spooky the way you resemble Nolan when he was little. We’ll be in touch very soon – as soon as these tests prove what we already know.” And she hugged me like I was someone important, then backed off to let her father speak.

“Ross, My name is Chasen Wellington. Your name – I’m certain that your name is Terrance Chasen Wellington. Your father named you after my father, and made me the proudest man in America. Here is my personal card. It has my private numbers on it. Call me anytime day or night, I don’t care. If you need, or want to speak with me, please call. I’ll consider it a personal favor to me, if you call sometime just so we can chat.” He hugged me with a great deal of emotion.

Just before I left the car, the chauffer spoke. “Mr. Wellington, I don’t wish to act out of line, or seem presumptuous, but would it not be prudent to call Howard and have young Ross covered until you are satisfied – one way or the other – about his identity?

“Sir, he’s told you about the attempts on his life. Who is to say that there aren’t more of those people, who haven’t been unearthed, waiting for a chance to do him harm, sir?” He seemed quite reluctant to stick his neck out, but too devoted to his boss to let it go.

Chasen Wellington mulled that over for just a few seconds. “Ross, would you allow us to drive you home and make contact with your foster parents for the purpose of making sure you are protected from any unknown threats, while we await the tests?” He was asking with his mouth, but begging with eyes. There was no way I could decently refuse such a request, and I made sure the driver had heard Sienna’s address. He entered it in the navigation system and drove us to her house.

Sienna’s car was in the driveway when we pulled up. I asked the Wellingtons to give me a moment to prepare her for the news, and hurried inside. Sienna must have just arrived, because she was still putting down her things when I let myself in.