Free Running on Empty by Sandra Balzo

Ma was going to hit the ceiling
     when she caught me with a knife and two lenses I'd taken out of her reading glasses
     to make a slide.'
    'Now you scrape.' Katou disappeared from the window and returned with something that
     looked like a oversized cotton swab.
    AnnaLise's eyes widened and Bobby laughed. 'Ichiro and I are taking part in a worldwide
     genome project. It uses DNA, which is the reason for the giant Q-tip.'
    He gestured toward the door of Katou's building. 'Want to see?'
    AnnaLise glanced over at Daisy, who was hovering none too patiently. 'I think not.
     We both have plans for tonight, and I need to iron something to wear.'
    'To Sal's?' Bobby asked. 'You might want to add a couple wrinkles and maybe a mustard
     stain. Help you fit in.'
    A buzzer sounded and with a wave, Bobby entered the building. AnnaLise stepped back
     to say goodbye to Katou, but he was gone, too, presumably having been the one to buzz
     Bobby into the building.
    That left just AnnaLise and Daisy on the quiet sidewalk. 'This place really is a ghost
     town.'
    But Daisy didn't seem to be interested in Hart's Landing. 'Should they be messing
     around with DNA?'
    'They're not exactly creating a monster, Dr. Frankenstein,' AnnaLise said as she led
     the way back to the car. 'I did some research for an article about National Geographic 's genographic project. They're trying to collect hundreds of thousands of DNA samples
     from people around the world in order to trace human migration. I think it would be
     fascinating to find out where the ancestors in your lineage were a thousand years
     ago and how they got... well, here.'
    'And paternity?' Daisy asked.
    AnnaLise shrugged. 'I don't know which program Ichiro is involved with, but from what
     I've read, lineage tests are much more general than paternity tests. They might show
     that your parents came from European descent, for example, but not provide specifics.
     Once you had the DNA, though, I'm guessing you could test for whatever you wanted.'
    'Wouldn't you need samples from both father and child?' Daisy stood waiting while
     AnnaLise climbed into the car and leaned over to unlock the door.
    'As I understand it.' AnnaLise put the key in the ignition as Daisy slipped into the
     passenger seat. 'But remember I was doing an article on the genographic project, not
     paternity testing.' She looked sideways at her mother and grinned. 'A little information,
     in the wrong hands, can be a dangerous thing.'
    'Amen to that.'

Chapter Eight
    Seven thirty and Frat Pack Night was already in full swing.
    'I'm so sorry,' AnnaLise said, sliding into a seat opposite Bobby. 'My watch—'
    'Was still on central time,' Bobby said, signaling Sal's bartender to draw AnnaLise
     the local brew — a Pisgah Porter. 'Don't worry, I figured you'd be late.'
    Fine reputation to have, re-cultivated after less than twelve hours back in your own
     hometown.
    A sliver of sunlight slanted across Bobby's face and continued its travels around
     the room. AnnaLise glanced over her shoulder to see Sheree Pepper, Sutherton's favorite
     innkeeper, slip through the door. Since sunset wouldn't be for another twenty minutes,
     it was still bright on the beach outside. Inside, more like another world.
    The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the red-plastic mesh-covered
     candle holder centered on each table and a klieg spot directed at the stage. There,
     Sal Goldstein, brown hair slicked back and showing a lot more scalp than AnnaLise's
     last visit, crooned Mack the Knife into the microphone.
    AnnaLise had once made the mistake of suggesting the tune was made famous by Bobby
     Darin and gotten an earful.
    'You telling me Frank Sinatra never sang that song? Huh? You telling me that?'
    Nope. Not me. Forget I ever said anything.
    On a stool next to the bar-owner sat an opened laptop computer so he could control
     his own playlist. A digital version of the old one-man band,
sans cymbals strapped between knees or tambourines