“No.”
“So this is kind of a dead end for you. I mean, in terms of your search for relatives. And in truth, I’m here because my colleague doesn’t need PB anymore. It’s too late.”
Wilde thought about it. “For some reason, RJ didn’t want anyone to know his name—but he wanted possible matches to see his age.”
“You have a theory on that, Wilde?”
“You’re law enforcement.”
“Retired.”
“But your colleague isn’t. I’m thinking your colleague is posing as someone else and using a DNA site to find relatives. Like in the Golden State Killer case. The killer left his DNA at a murder scene. The cops put it into DNA databases, like he was just any other guy searching for family. When the cops got matches—genetic relatives—they used that info to track down Joseph DeAngelo.”
Danielle nodded. “That’s pretty close. Have you heard of a man named Paul Sinclair?”
“No.”
“How about Pastor Paul of the Church of True Christian Foundation?”
Wilde shook his head.
“He ran a religious community in the Memphis area for almost forty years before dying peacefully in his sleep last month. He lived ninety-two healthy years. Karma might be an actual thing, but it’s not a thing down here on earth.”
“Meaning?”
“He raped and impregnated a lot of his parishioners. Young parishioners. He denied it, of course, but a bunch of people online realized that they had the same father. So my colleague RJ from the Tennessee State Police got Pastor Paul’s DNA and put it in online databases. He wanted to see how many people he’d fathered. In this database alone, he found seventeen. Of those, twelve had been put up for adoption. The other five had been told someone else was their father. Like your friend PB. None knew the truth.”
“So PB’s biological father is—”
“Pastor Paul. Does that help you in your search?”
Wilde thought about it. “I think it does.”
*
Wilde walked back uptown toward Hester’s place. When he arrived, Hester said, “Jenn Cassidy has been looking for you. She said it was important.”
“Do you have her number?”
Hester did. Wilde called her back.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone,” Jenn said when she answered.
“What’s the matter?”
“Marnie is missing. Everyone thinks she just took off because of all the bad press, but we share locations with a phone app, you know, just in case. Her phone is off. It’s never off.”
“Maybe she really did—”
“No, Wilde, she didn’t. There’s no credit card activity, nothing. Marnie wouldn’t run away. She’s also not savvy enough.”
Wilde closed his eyes. “When was the last time anyone saw her?”
“When she sneaked out of her apartment, I guess. No one’s sure.”
“Can you check her messages? Her texts? Her emails?”
“Don’t you think I tried that? There’s nothing.”
“Where are you?”
“My apartment at Sky.”
“Hold on a second.”
Wilde beckoned for Hester to hand him her phone. When she did, he dialed Rola. “I need you to send your best person over to Jenn Cassidy’s apartment at Sky. Her sister is missing.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Aren’t you still in Vegas?”
“I got a ride on a private flight to Teterboro. We touched down half an hour ago. I’ll head there now.”
Wilde put her on hold and clicked back to Jenn. “Stay in place,” he told her. “My friend Rola Naser is on her way. Tell the front desk to let her up as soon as she arrives.”
He hung up and called Vicky Chiba.
“Hello?”
“Is Silas there?”
“He just took off. He’s picking up a load in Elizabeth and then he heads to Georgia. Why, what’s up?”
“I wanted you both to know.”
“Know what?”
“Jenn.”
“What about her?”
“She set it all up.”
Silence. Then: “What are you talking about?”
“Jenn set Peter up. She hired McAndrews.”
“No…”
“She took the compromising photographs. She tricked Marnie into lying about him.”
“No,” Vicky said again, but her voice was weaker this time. So Wilde kept talking. He told Vicky the whole story. He told her in his calmest, most detached voice.