"Proceeding. Search results for Anna King and Raylea Burns completed."
"Split screen and show results."
"Proceeding."
He leaned back in his chair and sipped the steaming coffee. They'd begun using decent beans in the A.D.'s machines of late, and the coffee actually tasted like coffee, rather than a bitter metallic substitute. It was a nice change.
The com-screen came to life, displaying the bloody images of the first two women killed. Underneath the photos were their histories.
He scanned through them both quickly and frowned. They'd been born on the same day, in the same military hospital.
"Display the birth certificates for both women."
"Displaying."
The two documents came onscreen. He raised his eyebrows. A birthday wasn't the only thing they'd shared. They also had the same mother. So why hadn't Emma Pierce raised her daughters? And how could both girls be listed as being born at 10.15 p.m. if they had the same mother?
"Who was attending gynecologist on the births?"
"Doctor Frank Lloyd."
"Where can I find him?"
"Doctor Lloyd is the resident physician at the Hopeworth Military Base."
Hopeworth was something of a black hole when it came to military bases. Little was known about its activities, and it was one of the few areas the SIU computers could not hack into. Officially, Hopeworth was a weapons development area. Unofficially, who knew?
But why would they want a full time gynecologist? Were the staff so bored the base was experiencing a population explosion?
"Dig up Harry Maxwell's birth certificate. And see what you can find on Emma Pierce." If Emma worked at Hopeworth, there wouldn't be much to find. The base guarded the identity of its personal almost as fiercely as its activities. It was surprising they'd let the birth certificates slip into the general information pool, although, perhaps, because both children had ended up being adopted, they'd been forced to.
"Agent Samantha Ryan has just requested a priority one access all search."
"Indeed?" He smiled. So she'd finally done it. He had begun to wonder if she'd ever take the risk. "The search is approved. Post a copy of results to me but otherwise continue."
The key to who — or perhaps that should be, what — she was lie not in the present, but in a past she couldn't remember. He was certain of that much. But it wouldn't do him any good to do the research, because he had no idea what might or might not pull a memory from her mind. She had to be the one to look, which was why he'd allowed her full computer access in the first place — something that went against all SIU rules.
The computer blinked to life again. "No current information available on Emma Pierce."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"No purchases made with credit cards in the last month. No transactions within bank accounts. Utilities to home have been cut due to nonpayment."
"No death certificate issued?"
"Death records scanned. No match."
If she wasn't dead, then what the hell was she up to? "Last known address?"
"14 Errol Street, Melton."
His frown deepened. Why would someone like Emma Pierce, who'd obviously been military employed and should have retired with a nice fat pension, be doing in a place like Melton? The Government had bought out a good sixty percent of the suburb some ten years back, with the aim of providing both the homeless and low income earners dependant on government housing with somewhere cheap to live. Or, as the critics of the move had observed, basically dumped them. Out of sight, out of mind.
"Was she in government or private housing?"
"Government funded."
"Is there a husband or living relative listed on file?"