What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (most read books txt) 📗

if she was a compatible transplant donor…”

“Yes.”

“You also told me that you were anxious because—what did you say—because of some of the things that she’s done lately? Could you tell us about that?”

The tears returned as Emma took yet another sip of water.

“Mom hasn’t had an easy life,” she said.

“No, she hasn’t,” Bobby said, resting his hand on hers, proving that he was on Emma’s side.

“She got involved—involved with drugs some years ago after she had her social media business humming. I think she became bored, met some people, I don’t know. She kicked the habit, though. My uncles saw to that. They got her help. They gave her support. So did I. Now I think, I think she might be using again. There’s this man she’s been seeing. He’s black and he’s way younger than she is, only a year or so older than me, in fact. I don’t care about that. God. What I care about—she seems kind of dependent on him and that’s, that’s just not like her.”

“What’s his name?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know. We’ve never been introduced. I’ve only seen him at a distance, which is something else that’s crazy.”

“Where is your mother?”

“I haven’t spoken to her today. She’s either at the lake or at home. My uncle Charles has this palace on Lake Minnetonka and my mom and Uncle Porter spend most of their time there; they even have their own bedroom suites, like a hotel. But they also have their own homes. Porter has a place in Linden Hills in Minneapolis and Mom has a house on Summit Hill here in St. Paul. It’s only a couple miles from where we are right now, actually. It’s where I grew up. Mom thought it would be better for me growing up there than in Charles’s palace on the lake. So we lived in St. Paul, just the two of us, all the time I was in school. A small house. Charles calls it ‘the little cottage’ although its way bigger than that. I told Mom that she’s not allowed to sell it; that if she doesn’t want it anymore she has to give it to me. It’s not like she needs the money. She became rich when she sold her business. All of the Kings are rich. Well, not all. I don’t even get an allowance. Mom pays my tuition and room and board, so poor, poor pitiful me, but I have to work a part-time job in Northfield for spending money. My family thinks it builds character.”

“Is it possible that your mother is at home now?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know. I could call her.”

“No, but if you would be kind enough to give me the address…”

“So you can ambush her like Detective Shipman did with me and Elliot?”

“You said yourself that your uncle doesn’t have much time.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please.”

“There are questions I need to ask your mother that she might not answer if you’re in the same room with us.”

Emma stared as if she was trying to imagine what those questions might be.

“You mean about family secrets?” she asked. “About—about that can of worms?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“You’re her child; that’s how she’ll look at it.”

“Do you have kids?” Emma asked.

“Two girls; both just a couple of years younger than you.”

“Do you keep secrets from them?”

“Yes.”

“Let me guess—for their own good.”

“No, for mine.”

Emma found a spot on the wall to stare at for a few moments. While she did, Bobby heard her mutter a single word—“Mom.” Afterward, Emma glanced at Nina as if she was seeking her advice.

“Don’t look at me,” Nina said. “I need to go back to the hospital and check on McKenzie.”

“Will you call me?” Emma asked. “Will you tell me how he’s doing?”

“Yes,” Nina answered. “Where will you be?”

Emma spun back to face Bobby.

“Carleton College,” she said. “I have a midterm in the morning.”

They discovered Chopper’s geek-in-chief sitting behind Chopper’s desk like he owned the place when they rolled into the office in Minneapolis. He pointed at Chopper’s computer screen.

“You should see this,” he said.

Chopper stared wide-eyed at him as if he already couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Herzog chuckled.

“You expect he was gonna do the research you wanted on his phone?” he asked.

Chopper waved at the dozen computer terminals that were scattered throughout his office.

“He can’t use the boss’s computer?” Herzog said. “When did you start voting Republican?”

“Hey,” the geek said. “You want to look at this, what?”

Chopper wheeled himself around the desk. The geek pulled away the chair he was using to give him plenty of room. He leaned down until his head was level with his employer’s and pointed at the computer screen some more.

“Jenna King is one of the Kings. Charles King, her brother, he owns KTech Industries, creates artificial intelligence designs. AI, man. AI. AI is like…”

“I know what artificial intelligence is,” Chopper said.

“These people are going to rule the world.”

Chopper was looking at Herzog when he asked “How much are the Kings worth?”

“Hundreds of millions of dollars,” the geek said. “Maybe more. Maybe billions.”

“You don’t just shoot a billionaire.”

“Why would you do that?” the geek wanted to know. “AI, man. AI.”

“Why would someone want us to do that, better question?” Herzog said.

“We could ask Jenna,” Chopper said.

“Think she’d talk to us? Think we could get within a mile of her up at Lake Minnetonka? Puh-leez. We can’t even walk through a shopping mall without being followed.”

“She doesn’t live on Lake Minnetonka,” the geek said. “Her brother does, but Jenna, Jenna King, right? She has a place on Summit Hill in St. Paul.”

Chopper gestured at Herzog.

“Whaddya think?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Herzog asked in return.

“If she thought she was in danger, if she thought Jamal and the doc-tor were fucking with her; that might be enough to convince her to tell us ’bout McKenzie. She might tell us a lot.”

“How we gonna convince her of that; convince her that we’re her friends?”

“Do you have