The door to the conference room crashed open. “What’s the big emergency, Moonface?” Ripley demanded, agitation written all over his face.
Sutherland knit his bushy eyebrows, scowled, and pointed to the empty chair across the table. His face was white, like he’d seen a ghost. “You’re gonna need to sit down for this.” He smoothed out the wrinkled paper, looking irritated. “We got the DNA analysis from the blood on the notes. It’s been checked three times by the lab. Not only is it a rare blood type—AB negative—but there’s a familial match.”
“A familial match?” Ripley sat staring, puzzled by the wrinkled paper on the tab...
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