‘‘Was she sincere, or was that just part of the act?’’ said Diane.
‘‘I don’t know. At best, a little of both,’’ said Kingsley.
Diane looked at the page of notes on Glenn Redding of Seattle, Washington. There wasn’t much that she didn’t already know. Foul play wasn’t suspected at all in his death. At the bottom of the page Kingsley had a figure for how much money she had inherited from Redding—two hundred million.
‘‘She gave the daughter ten million and set aside another fifteen million to be given on completion of a university degree,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘Did the daughter get a degree?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘She did—the University of Washington, in communications. She got her money. You can see why the lawyer, Trenton Bernard, didn’t suspect Mrs. Redding. It looked as though she was doing what she was asked by her late husband.’’
‘‘Clymene’s good,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I tallied up how much money she received from her husbands—three hundred and eighty-five million dollars,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘That comes to about nineteen million dollars for each year from the time she was fifteen.’’
‘‘I didn’t realize it was that much. Clymene is a wealthy woman,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Her sisters must help her hide it. I know the Rosewood police couldn’t find any trace of her finances.’’
‘‘There is another clever move,’’ he said. ‘‘Our Clymene paid her taxes.’’
‘‘What?’’ said Diane, looking up from the pages to Kingsley. ‘‘She paid taxes on hidden money?’’
‘‘After each death she stayed around long enough to pay taxes before she disappeared. She learned from Al Capone’s mistake, I guess. As near as I can tell, we can’t get her or any of her aliases on income tax evasion,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘What about the hundred million in the offshore accounts?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Her next tax return says she earned a million in an at-home business. She paid the taxes,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘She’s full of surprises,’’ said Diane.
The plane landed and they disembarked at Craven County Regional Airport and rented a car. Diane drove. Kingsley was right; she much preferred being in a machine she could control. He read the map they had printed off the Internet while Diane found the route on the GPS that came with their rental car. emptied
hundred
Carley Volker did not live in the city of New Bern, but about ten miles out. Diane had never been to New Bern but she knew something of the area. It was a pretty town with a lot of history dating back to the 1700s. There were hundreds of sunken ships all up and down the coast, some of them visible from the shore. The Outer Banks of North Carolina were also Blackbeard’s stomping ground. There were many things she’d like to see, and here they were, looking for Clymene. All in all, she’d rather look for Blackbeard’s treasure.
‘‘What did you tell Carley?’’ asked Diane. Kingsley had called her while Diane was getting the rental, a Mitsubishi Outlander.
‘‘That we are from the FBI and the Rosewood, Georgia, police department and would like to see her. I thought it might confuse her if I told her we were from the FBI and the Museum of Natural History.’’
Diane laughed. ‘‘Did you tell her what it’s about?’’ ‘‘A little. I told her in general terms it’s about a woman who escaped from prison. I told her we located her through the DNA she posted. That’s all. I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she might have a homicidal maniac in the family tree.
‘‘Turn left here,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘It should be right
over this rise.’’
Diane looked down at the GPS map display. It agreed with the printed map Kingsley was using.
Diane had expected a quaint older home but realized when she made the turn that they were entering a new subdivision of boxy, vaguely Victorian-style houses. They were pretty, but close together. The houses were new enough that the landscaping still contained small, spindly trees, flowers that had not yet bloomed, and grass that was just coming up through straw covering. The house Carley Volker lived in was gray with white trim. They turned in the driveway. Diane put the SUV in park and turned off the ignition.
Carley came out the front door of the house and met them. She was much younger than Diane expected. She looked to be in her early twenties, goldblond hair, blue eyes, and slim. She wore blue jeans and an apricot-colored T-shirt. She grinned broadly.
‘‘Come in. It’s such a pretty day, Mom’s serving tea on the deck.’’
‘‘Thank you,’’ said Diane. She reached in her pocket for her ID and showed it to her. ‘‘I’m Diane Fallon, and this is Agent Ross Kingsley.’’
‘‘Hello, Miss Volker,’’ said Kingsley, holding out his identification.
She looked at each and grinned as if indulging them. Clearly Carley was too trusting.
She led them up the steps and through a gate to a deck at the back of the house, where her mother was setting out glasses of iced tea and cookies.
‘‘See that window up there?’’ Carley pointed to a bay window on the second floor. ‘‘That’s my room. It has a great view of the marsh and the intracoastal waterway. We just moved here,’’ she added.
Diane saw that Kingsley was thinking the same thing she was. Carley was giving away too much information about herself. How nice to live in the innocent world she did, but how dangerous. Maybe I’m too cynical, thought Diane.
Diane looked across at the green marsh grasses waving in the breeze and the waterfowl about to make a landing. It was a pretty view, a restful view.
‘‘Hi, I’m Carley’s mother, Ellen Volker. Carley is so excited that someone saw her posting.’’
Ellen Volker was an older image of her daughter, not quite as slim, and her hair was starting to get gray. She seemed just as glad as her daughter to see them.
‘‘Did your daughter explain why we’re here?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Something about a woman who escaped from prison. I’m not quite sure I understood. Please sit down and have some tea and cookies.’’
‘‘Mom makes the best cookies,’’ said Carley, pulling up a chair. ‘‘So. You found me through my DNA profile I posted. Does that mean that this is someone I’m related to? I’m trying to research my family tree. I’m also doing something called deep ancestry. Do you know what that is?’’
Kingsley shook his head. ‘‘I don’t have a clue, but I’m sure Diane does. She’s a forensic anthropologist.’’
‘‘Are you really? That’s so interesting. So you know about finding your earliest ancient ancestors,’’ said Carley.
‘‘I told Carley that just doesn’t seem possible. There would be so many of them,’’ said her mother.
‘‘The deep ancestry project shows you which haplogroup you belong to,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Where your branch of the earliest humans originated and where they migrated to.’’