“You’re a smart guy. You can figure out a way to get what we need. A buccal swab on the inside of the cheek is ideal, but a hair sample could work, too.”

Troy wasn’t convinced he could get even that much without getting uncomfortably close to Grace, but he saw no point in bringing that up, because the investigator’s reasoning made sense. Why was he assuming his wife and Grace were mother and daughter? What if they were actually aunt and niece, or sisters, or cousins? Or not related at all? Merely because they looked alike didn’t mean anything. It was plausible for complete strangers to look like twins—hence, the world of celebrity impersonators. His family could be the target of an elaborate con. In his gut, he was convinced that Grace and Monica were genetically linked, but he needed to rule out all other angles.

“I’ll make it happen,” Troy said. “Anything else?”

“It would be helpful if you could get into her purse, or luggage. I think checking out her personal belongings could give us some leads for further investigation.”

“That’s a tall order.” Troy drew in a tight breath. “What am I looking for?”

“Photographs. Documentation like a driver’s license, passport, credit cards. Unusual pieces of jewelry or unusual possessions. And oh, drugs, of course, of the prescription or recreational kind.”

“Essentially, I need to search through all of her stuff.” He pushed aside his sandwich, his appetite gone.

His wrists were still bruised from the punishing grip Grace had delivered, and he had yet to come up with a reasonable explanation for the woman’s extraordinary physical strength. The idea of rummaging through her belongings, and her possibly finding out what he had done, made his stomach quiver.

I could snap you like a twig, boy.

“Go through her belongings with a fine-tooth comb, Doc,” Sullivan said. “Snap pictures of what you find, and email them to me. I’ll get right on it.”

“If I’m doing all of the snooping here, what am I paying you for?” Troy asked, only half-kidding.

“You’re paying me for my nicely formatted reports that pull together all of the details into a coherent story.” Sullivan laughed. “Look, about the DNA sample. I don’t want to insult your medical expertise, but it needs to be preserved, no contamination. I can get you a kit.”

“I know what to do there. I assume we’ll meet somewhere so I can hand it over?”

“Yeah, and the lab can turn it around within twenty-four hours, for an extra charge,” Sullivan said.

“You’ll have it in a couple days. I want everything expedited, I don’t care about the additional fees. I need answers.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”