Fertile Ground (29 page)

“So no patients donate eggs?”

“Some do. Our clinic, like many others, reduces fees for IVF and other infertility treatments to women who donate eggs.” “But a lot of donors are young, college-age women, right?”

Was she referring to Chelsea? “Right. Recipients prefer eggs from young college students because they think that the eggs are healthier. Actually, there’s no definitive proof of that.”

“And that their babies will be bright, since the donor’s intelligent enough to be in college?”

Lisa nodded. “Exactly. Other patients, though, prefer eggs from women who have borne children—there’s more assurance the eggs are viable. And seeing photos of the donor’s offspring gives them some idea of what future children may look like.”

“Makes sense. Does your clinic encourage open or closed donation?”

“Some birth parents don’t tell their child that he or she was born through IVF.” Lisa wondered now, as she sometimes did, whether her parents would have kept her adoption a secret if they’d had it all to do over again. “On the other hand, some parents present the child with

the petri dish in which they were ‘conceived.” “

“No kidding!” Gina grinned. “I’m surprised Baccarat and Waterford haven’t produced designer petri dishes.”

“I’m sure that sooner or later someone will do just that. Maybe Lalique.” Lisa flashed another quick smile. “Basically, the donor and the patient decide whether they want to communicate or remain anonymous. First of all, if the donor doesn’t want her identity known, that’s her prerogative.”

She’d told Sam the truth when she’d said she had no intention of searching for her birth mother—she didn’t want to intrude on the woman’s life, didn’t want to complicate her own—but she’d been thinking about her more. She supposed it was because of the Wrights’ insistence on finding out who had their daughter’s eggs. Last night, just before she’d fallen asleep, she’d thought about the fact that if her assailant had been successful, her birth mother wouldn’t even have known that she’d died.

Last night, too, for the first time in years, the dream had returned: In it, she was walking around, looking for the house that corresponded to the address on the slip of paper in her hand, the house that belonged to her birth mother. Finally she found it. She knocked on the door, but no one answered. She knocked again and again, then jiggled the knob. The door opened. She stepped inside and was facing another door. She opened it and saw another door, then another, and another…. “Why wouldn’t she want her identity known?” Gina asked.

Lisa was startled—the reporter was referring to egg donors, but it was as if she’d read her mind. Lisa focused on the question. “What if the family of one or more of the children resulting from her eggs suffers financial hardships? She may not want to be held responsible for any expenses down the line.”

“Okay.” Gina nodded. “But what if the child has a congenital illness or a genetic predisposition to an illness? Shouldn’t the birth parents know about that?”

“Absolutely. That’s why the donor fills out an extensive history and medical profile and undergoes genetic screenings.”

“What if she wants contact but the birth mother doesn’t?”

“Then there’s no contact.” Lisa rose abruptly, feeling restless, on edge. “Gina—”

“I know. Time’s up.” She smiled and stood up. “One last question? I heard that the parents of the murder victim who donated eggs to this clinic want to know the recipient’s identity. Even though this was a closed donation, since they’ll never have other grandchildren, don’t you think they have a right to know who has their daughter’s embryos?”

Was this the real purpose of the reporter’s return visit? “I can’t comment on that, Gina.”

“Off the record. Dr. Brockman?”

“Off the record and on the record.”

Grace seemed reluctant to leave Lisa alone in Matthew’s office. She hovered several feet away as Lisa checked the file cabinet and the desk.

“Maybe if you told me what you’re looking for, I could help,” she said when Lisa shut the last drawer.

“I’m not sure what I am looking for.” Lisa felt a surge of pity for the nurse, whose red-rimmed eyes showed she’d been crying. Had she stayed in Matt’s office because she wanted to talk? “Grace, you must be devastated about Dr. Gordon. If you want to talk about it…”

The nurse’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “Everybody’s upset about Dr. Gordon, but he wasn’t just my boss. Tony and I owe him everything. Without him, we wouldn’t have Suzie.” She wiped her eyes. “Dr. Brockman, do the police have any idea who killed him?”

“No, they don’t,” Lisa said gently.

“What about Chelsea Wright? That was a mugging, right? Her murder isn’t connected to Dr. Gordon’s.” She was staring intently at Lisa, her lips slightly parted.

“The police aren’t sure. Grace, I know Dr. Gordon had a lot on his mind just before he disappeared—the missing money, the problem with Chelsea’s egg donation. Did he

tell you anything else was troubling him? Maybe his research?” ‘

“His research?” She crinkled her eyes in puzzlement. “You don’t mean about the anesthetic, do you? He was considering switching from the one we’ve been using for egg retrievals, because some patients are agitated when they wake up.”

“I know.” Matthew had mentioned it the night before he’d disappeared; he’d raised the problem at a staff meeting a while ago. Lisa had forgotten about it.

“Sometimes they have bad dreams,” Grace said. “Several weeks ago Felicia Perry, one of Dr. Cantrell’s donor patients, was crying in Recovery because she dreamed she was going to be punished for giving up her eggs. The recovery room nurse managed to calm her, poor thing, but I felt so sorry for her.”

“You’re a wonderful nurse, Grace, because you care about people.” Lisa smiled warmly at her. “Did you talk to Chelsea when she came to the clinic a few weeks ago?”

The woman stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

It was as though a glass wall had come between them. “I just meant, did you chat with her? Did she say anything unusual? Sometimes patients talk more to the nurses than the doctors.”

“No. I took her to Dr. Gordon’s office and told her he’d be with her shortly.” She pushed at the cuticle of her thumb.

“Did you see her after her appointment?”

“I don’t know why everyone’s asking me all these questions about Chelsea Wright!” Grace’s lips were trembling, and she pressed her tightly clenched hands at her sides. “Mr. Fisk thinks that I’m the one who accepted her into the program, that I forged her signature. I know he does. I offered to resign.”

“No one wants you to resign. Grace,” Lisa said quietly. “Mr. Fisk has to find out what happened because the clinic is facing a lawsuit.” She could see from the anxious look in the nurse’s blue eyes that she’d made things worse. It occurred to her that Grace might be

guilty. “Anyone could have made a mistake. I saw Chel sea’s picture. She looks much older than eighteen.”

“You think I did it, don’t you? I’d never do anything to compromise Dr. Gordon or this clinic! Never!” She started crying and ran out of the office.

Lisa sighed, then went to Reception and told Selena what had happened. “So much for providing comfort.”

“I’ll talk to her. She’s upset because Detective Barone questioned her. He questioned just about everyone here.”

That would explain why Grace was so agitated, why she’d said “everybody” had been asking her questions. “When was this?”

“When you were at the courthouse. How did it go, mi hijaT’ Selena’s brown eyes were soft with worry.

“Not great. But thanks for asking.” Lisa rested her hand on Selena’s arm. “Who’s next?”

“Actually, you’re free for the next two hours.”

She grimaced. “More cancellations?” She’d seen only two patients early this morning, both of whom were in the middle of a regimen of fertility shots. There’d been no need to have Sam or Ted cover for her while she was at the courthouse.

Selena nodded, then leaned forward. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she whispered, even though no one else was within earshot. “Has Mr. Fisk said anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Everyone’s scared. Alice in Billing quit over the weekend. And Margaret Cho gave only two days’ notice—she’s taking a position at another hospital starting Wednesday.”

Lisa didn’t blame her. She nodded wearily. “I’ll be in the lab if you need me.”

She hadn’t been to the lab since last night. She felt a stab of anxiety as she opened the door to the stairwell, and her heart was beating faster as she hurried down the stairs and out the lower-level door.

“Hey,” Charlie said when Lisa entered the anteroom. He put down a yellow pad he was holding and came

closer. “I’m sorry about Matthew. I don’t know what else to say.”

Her eyes teared. “I know, Charlie. Thank you.”

Everyone had been expressing sympathy—the receptionist, the nurses, the secretaries in Billing, the techs. Selena had hugged her tightly when she’d arrived this morning. She’d seen tears in Victor’s eyes. Even Ted had told her how sorry he was, how shocked. Lisa had tried to detect a false note, but he’d sounded sincere. Which didn’t mean he was. She’d seen him charm patients and mimic them cruelly behind their backs.

“How are you doing, Charlie?”

“Depressed as hell. Worried about my job, like everyone else. You heard Margaret’s quitting?” When Lisa nodded, he said, “You know what we’ve been doing all day? Paperwork. Arranging to have patients’ embryos transferred to other clinics. Matthew would hate to see what’s happening to his clinic.”

“You’re right,” she said softly. “By the way, I was looking through last year’s accession log the other day, and I noticed that most of the pages for September of last year are torn out.”

He frowned. “Why the hell would someone tear them out?”

“I don’t know.” She hated lying to him, hated lying to anyone, but she no longer knew whom she could trust. She hated that, too. “When did you last look at those pages, Charlie?”

He scratched his head, thinking. “A couple of weeks ago,” he finally said. “That’s the best I can narrow it down.”

“What about the other techs? Can you ask them?”

“Sure.” His voice and eyes conveyed curiosity. He went into the lab and returned a few minutes later. “Margaret and John said they haven’t checked last year’s log in over a month. Norman isn’t here. I’ll ask him when I see him. Is it important?”

“I’m not sure.”

“A detective was here. He wanted to know when’s the last time I saw Matthew, whether he seemed nervous,

upset—that kind of stuff. Then he asked me about the other techs and the medical staff. It made me uncomfortable.” The lab director looked at Lisa questioningly.

“I know. He talked to me, too, Charlie.”

“He talked to John and Margaret and Norman. I suppose he asked them about me.” He shook his head. “He asked about you, too. I told them you weren’t to be trusted.” He laughed at his own joke.

“Funny, I told Detective Barone the same thing about you, Charlie.” She punched his arm lightly, then went back upstairs.

Sam was in her office, standing near her desk.

“I left a file on your desk.” He pointed to a manila folder and smiled. “I knocked this time, but you weren’t in.”

“You’re learning.” She hadn’t seen him alone since last night. It had felt odd going to sleep, knowing he was in the next room. Odd, and wonderfully comforting. When she woke up this morning and found his note-he’d gone home to shower and change his clothes—she’d been disappointed not to see him. “Thanks again for staying with me last night.”

“Any time,” he said softly. “So how’d it go with the judge?” He sat on one of the chairs and crossed his ankles.

“Terrible.” She told him what had happened. “It’s possible someone substituted Chelsea’s eggs for Naomi She paused. “I heard that Detective Barone was here, questioning the staff. Did he talk to you?”

“You could say that.” He grimaced. “I think I’m high on his list of suspects.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She felt a prickling of alarm. “He knows you were attacked last night by the same person who attacked me. I phoned him this morning at the station and left a message.”

“He made me go over the details five times and couldn’t understand why I had a hard time describing the attacker. To say he was skeptical is an understatement. I can’t blame him—he knows I have a thing for you. He asked me whether I arranged for you to get the job here

so I could pursue a romantic relationship with you. He asked me if I’d slept with you. I said only in my dreams. Just joking,” he added quickly. “I think we need a little comic relief.”

Her cheeks were burning. “I’m sorry, Sam. I had to show him the printout of Matthew’s file.”

He nodded. “Of course you did. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know if Barone questioned Ted?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Right after he spoke to me. Ted came storming into my office after he left—what the hell did I think I was doing, telling a detective he was often late for appointments or missed them altogether? Who the hell did I think I was?” Sam expelled a breath. “I let him rant.”

“But you didn’t tell Barone. / did.”

“No difference. Ted’s mad. He’ll get over it—unless he has reason to be scared.” Sam checked his watch and stood up. “Gotta go. I actually have a patient to see-can you believe it?”

She walked him to the door. “Charlie says most of our patients are having their embryos transferred.”

“Who can blame them?” He sighed. “By the way, are you planning to look at those files tonight?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Why?”

“I still think it’s a waste of time, but if you want, I can help. It’ll have to be after nine-thirty, though. I coach a junior basketball league, and I can’t let my kids down. I’ll call when I’m done. Do you want me to stay over again tonight?” He put his hand to his chest. “My God, can you imagine how that sounds? It’s a good thing Barone isn’t eavesdropping.” He laughed.

She laughed, too. “Actually, you’ll be proud of me. I accepted Elana’s offer to stay there for a few days.” She wondered what would happen if Barone didn’t find the killer. Would she be a hostage to fear forever?