A Different Blue(150)

He pressed a kiss to my forhead. “Yes. I know hundreds of things. I think we've discussed this

. . . quite recently, actually.”

“What if they tell us something that changes the way you feel about me?”

“What could they possibly say that would change the way I feel about you? You were two years

old when your mother left you. Do you think they are going to tell us you were a tiny drug

dealer? The world's youngest ever? An assassin maybe? Or . . . oh no! A boy. Maybe you are

actually a boy. That would be difficult to adjust to, I confess.”

Laughter bubbled out of me like a yellow balloon, and I clung to that glimmer of brightness

Wilson always seemed to inspire in me. I buried my face in the crook between his neck and

shoulder, breathing in the smell that was Wilson. Comfort, challenge, and hope all rolled into

one clean scent.

“Blue. Whatever we learn will only make me love you more. You're right. I know too much. And

because I do, there isn't anything anyone can say that will make me doubt you or the way I feel

about you.”

“Okay,” I whispered, and I kissed his neck just above the collar of his coat. He shivered and

wrapped his arms around me.

“Okay,” he repeated, a smile in his voice. “Let's go.”





I met Sergeant Martinez, who had been the lead Detective on the case eighteen years ago along

with several others who faded into background almost as quickly as they were introduced. Heidi

Morgan from the state crime lab was also present, and she, Sergeant Martinez, and Detective

Moody proceeded to take us into a room where a large file sat waiting in the center of the

table. We took a seat around the file, and Heidi Morgan added a file of her own. Without

fanfare, the meeting began.

Heidi went through an explanation of DNA and DNA markers. She showed me a chart comparing my DNA

to the DNA of the woman who was my mother. Some of the brief overview was the same information

that had been shared with me when they had pulled my DNA months before, only this time they had

the results to talk me through.

[page]Heidi looked at me and smiled. “We are certain that you are indeed the biological

daughter of a woman named Winona Hidalgo.”

“That was her name?” I repeated it, just to test its impact. “Winona Hidalgo.” I thought

maybe it would strike a chord of remembrance, that I would feel something when I heard it. But

it was foreign to me, as unremarkable as the name Heidi Morgan or Andy Martinez. It was as if I

had never heard it before.

It was Sergeant Martinez's turn to take center stage. He flipped the big file open, and Wilson

reached for my hand under the table. I clung to it, breathless.

“Winona Hidalgo was found murdered at the Stowaway Motel on August 5, 1993. At the time of her

death she was nineteen years old. In fact, she had just turned nineteen on August the second,

three days before.

“She was murdered?” I gasped. I don't know what I'd expected, but it hadn't been murder.

“We found paraphernalia at the scene, and blood work came back that supported drugs in her

system, but her purse and her car were missing, and there were contusions to the back of her

head. Apparently, Miss Hidalgo had won about five grand from the slots at a local truckstop a

couple of days before, and at the time of her death, she had a nice little wad of cash on her.