Love Gone Mad (27 page)

“I hope I’ve explained this clearly and concisely to you and wish you Godspeed in your deliberations.”

T
he jury returns after three hours.

The courtroom settles down as coughing and throat clearing come to an end. Adrian watches as the jury files into the two rows of the jury box. He realizes he can’t read them; each juror maintains a sphinxlike face, inscrutable, not a hint of their determination. His insides hum and nearly vibrate, and his legs tense. He glances at Grayson, who sits next to DuPont. They both stare straight ahead at the judge.

“Ladies and gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?” Burke asks.

The jury foreman, a balding man of about fifty, stands and says, “Yes, we have, Your Honor.”

“Is the verdict unanimous?”

“Yes, it is, Your Honor.”

“Will the defendant please rise,” Burke says.

Conrad and Kovac stand behind the defense table.

Burke says, “What say you in the matter of the State of Connecticut versus Conrad Wilson?”

The hissing in Adrian’s ears sounds like steam rushing from an open valve.

“We the jury find the defendant, Conrad Wilson, not guilty by reason of insanity.”

Gasps come from the gallery and then murmurs and whispers followed by a choral drone. Grayson, DuPont, and Morgan stand. Grayson glances back and looks around the courtroom. His eyes rest on Adrian and he nods in what seems to Adrian a sympathetic way. A cadre of court officers converges on Conrad. He’s handcuffed and stares straight ahead; he neither looks at nor speaks to Kovac.

A poisonous tide swirls through Adrian as a chill invades his flesh. The jury’s decided that Conrad Wilson is a madman. Adrian is again thankful Megan isn’t in the courtroom.

“So it has been decided,” Burke says. “I remand the acquitted to the Whitehall Forensic Institute in Ansonia for involuntary treatment on an indefinite basis, subject to further review and hearings.”

The gavel slams down.

A
drian and Megan sit on the living room sofa. Marlee is asleep in her bedroom. Megan’s head feels heavy on Adrian’s shoulder. He realizes she’s drifted off to sleep.

It’s been nearly three weeks since the trial. Last night was the fourth in a row Megan slept without the elevator dream waking her in a cold sweat. And she hasn’t taken an Ambien in more than a week. She’s been back at work for nearly a month, and it’s going well. The old building’s completely sealed off, and plans for its demolition are on an ultrafast track.

It’s clear to Adrian that once Conrad was sent to Whitehall, the horror of what happened receded to some distant backwater of his own mind. And with today’s explosive new development—an absolute life changer—a new and exciting world has suddenly blossomed.

The TV is playing softly. Jay Leno is warming the audience up with a monologue. Adrian presses the remote’s “Mute” button. His thoughts return to the evening in Megan’s apartment many weeks ago when she described the night Conrad nearly killed Marlee. Looking pleadingly at him, Megan had said, “Adrian, there’s something else I need to tell you about Conrad and me.”

She described the visits to Dr. Green, her gynecologist, and then the referral to a fertility expert. “So … my husband wanted a baby. And frankly, Adrian,
I
wanted one, too. But there was no pregnancy, and I knew Conrad would never go for a semen analysis. The fertility doctor said there was only one option available.”

“Which was?”

Megan’s lips quivered and her eyes grew moist.

“It would have to be artificial insemination.”

“Using
another
man’s sperm?”

“Yes. But I could never tell Conrad.”

“It would be a
secret
?”

“Oh, Adrian. I know … it’s a
terrible
secret,” she said, with quivering lips. “But I was desperate. I thought having a baby was the only way to save the marriage.”

“But—”

“I was just
so
desperate to save the marriage. The fertility doctor convinced me it was a good idea. Conrad would have a child, and things would get better between us.”

“Okay, I can understand that.”

Adrian realized Megan’s mind-bending bind—it was an insoluble problem.

“Also,” she said, “I could pick the donor’s eye color, height, and ethnic type, so the baby would resemble Conrad. And all donors are college graduates. I wanted that because Conrad’s so smart.”

“So to this day, Conrad doesn’t know Marlee’s not his?”

“Adrian, only
you
know,” Megan said with a brittle laugh. “Not even Erin knows the truth.”

“It was an impossible situation.”

“I was trying to do the right thing. Can you
understand
?”

“Yes, my love. I do.”

“And it’s all so strange,” Megan said. “Conrad claims Marlee’s not his, and even though he’s crazy, he’s
right
. He’s absolutely right.”

“And you’ve shared this with me,” he said, pulling her closer.

“Only you, Adrian. It’s my deepest secret.”

“It was a secret of good intentions,” he whispered.

“I wanted to preserve Conrad’s self-respect and hold the marriage together. So I’ve been living a lie.”

M
egan stirs and suddenly startles awake. She looks into Adrian’s eyes and plants a kiss on his neck.

Adrian nuzzles her, inhales the fragrance of her hair. “You and Marlee are so much a part of my life. I want us to be together, always.”

She looks up at him. “What’s wrong? You look so sad.”

“I’m so happy, I could cry,” he says, nearly trembling. He feels a strange lightness in his chest, the one he sometimes feels when Megan and Marlee laugh at some inane joke he’s made or when they’re in the car singing the lyrics to a song on the radio. He picks up the remote and turns off the television.

Is there an easy way to tell her about today’s development?

“How much do you know about DNA paternity testing?” he asks.

“I know it’s used in child support cases, but why?”

“Because—”

“Do you think Conrad’ll have Marlee
tested
?” She jumps up as though she’s been scalded. “Oh, my
God
,” she blurts. “And now he has this lawyer, Kovac…”

He clutches her hands. They’re cold and clammy.

“I can see it in the
Connecticut Post
,” she says. “A man claims his wife had another man’s baby and she tried to pawn it off as his, so now he’s in an insane asylum, but he’s demanding DNA testing.” A knuckle goes to her lips. “This could be
terrible
—”

“Megan,
listen
. Have you ever heard of DNA testing with PCR?”

“No.”

“PCR stands for polymerase chain reaction. Any sample can be used. Blood, saliva, a piece of skin; anything with cells can give a profile.”

“So if Kovac demands a DNA profile, he’ll prove Marlee’s
not Conrad’s
. And if he supervises the test, there won’t be any doubt—”

“Megan, half of Marlee’s DNA matches
yours
, and the other half—”

“Of course, but, Adrian, what’s this about?”

“Megan, do you remember when you told me about the AI?”

“Yes,” she says as her chin trembles.

“And I told you the lab concentrated my sperm so Peggy could get pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Well, they cryofroze my semen.”

“Yes?”

“What I didn’t mention was that a few months later, the lab called. They wanted to know if we’d be using the sperm.”

“So?”

“They wanted it for their sperm bank inventory.”

“And?”

“I said it was fine. And they sent me a nondisclosure contract.”

“So, where does this lead?”

“It leads to
Gen-Health Labs
.”

“The lab in
New Haven
?”

“Yes. Where you told me
you
went.
I
was a donor there.”

“Oh, darling,” Megan says. “The odds of
you
being my donor are ridiculous.”

“Listen my love, after you mentioned Gen-Health, I went online and ordered a paternity testing kit. I wanted to—”

“Adrian, it’s
absurd
.”

“It came in the mail. It has swab sticks, vials, and a prepaid mailing box. You take a tissue sample from the child and from the presumed father—”

“You’re suggesting we test
Marlee
? And we test
you
?” Megan folds her arms across her chest and says, “Adrian, the odds are so remote.”

“Listen, Megan. After you mentioned Gen-Health, I made an appointment with their geneticist.”

“A geneticist, why?”

“Her name’s Dr. Lefer.” He pauses, recalling the conversation. “I told her I’d been a donor there. She had my file and the nondisclosure contract. She said if my sperm
was
used, she couldn’t tell me a
thing
about the recipient. It would violate privacy laws.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Their records confirmed that my sperm
was
used. Lefer said the lab matches donors based on characteristics the woman specifies.”

“Like I did. So?”

“She said their donor population comes from New Haven and Fairfield Counties, an area of about one point seven million people.”

“Oh, Adrian, the odds are insane.” She swallows deeply.

“Listen, Megan,” Adrian says, barely able to contain himself. “Half the population is women, so it’s about eight hundred thousand men. But really, it’s far fewer, since they only take men between nineteen and thirty-five and only college graduates.”

“Oh, Adrian, that’s still thousands of men.”

“Then she asked me an interesting question.”

“What?”

“She asked if I personally know
any
sperm donor. I realized that I don’t. Very few men are willing to go through the screening process, even if the lab pays them to donate. So the actual donor population’s very small. And they don’t take men with personal or family histories of mental illness, diabetes, or MS, lots of skin conditions, and other things. So it boils down to a small group of
actual
donors.”

“Yes?”

“They called me because they couldn’t fill a request. A client—whom she couldn’t name—asked for a donor between
six feet and six two
, with
blue eyes
and of either
English or Scottish
descent.”

Megan’s eyes dart from left to right.

“Lefer said ‘We had no donor who fit that profile.’”

Megan looks chalky white.

“Only
my
semen fit the bill, and they used it for that client.”

He feels her hands shaking.

“She couldn’t say more without violating the nondisclosure agreement.”

“Oh, Adrian, I don’t want Marlee to go through DNA testing.”

“Well, my love, after seeing Lefer, I ordered the testing kit … and …”

“Oh, Adrian, don’t be silly.”

“Megan, do you remember that day when we went to the Maritime Aquarium?”

“Yes.”

“In the parking lot, we saw that pickup. Marlee was chewing gum and you told her not to throw it on the ground. Remember?”

“Not really.”

“Marlee put the gum into an envelope. I realized that chewed bubble gum has gobs of saliva and cheek cells with plenty of DNA. When I got home, I dropped the gum into a vial from the collection kit. Then I swabbed my inner cheek and put it in another vial. And I sent the kit off to the lab.”

“You did genetic testing on Marlee and never
told
me?” Megan’s eyes narrow.

“I’m sorry, Megan, but I just
had
to know. I love you so much … and Marlee, too. I
had
to find out.” Heat crawls into his face. He feels his pores open.

“You did this without
telling
me?”

The question hits him with stunning impact. “Megan, I—”

“You did DNA testing on Marlee—on
my
child—and never told me?”

“Yes. But you have to—”

“Oh, Adrian, how
could
you?”

“Please forgive me, Megan. But you told me about the AI and you said you were
desperate
to save the marriage and not hurt Conrad …”

“Yes.” Her lips quiver and her eyelids flutter.

“That’s how
I
felt …
desperate
. I had to learn the truth. I
had
to find out, and I didn’t want to complicate your life even more, so I did it secretly.”

Tears pool in her eyes. Adrian wonders if she’ll slap him, walk out of the room, or sink to the sofa, but she stands there, mouth agape, wide-eyed.

“Yes, I did it,” he says with his voice quivering. “And I’m sorry I violated your privacy … and Marlee’s, too. This is
my
deepest secret. Megan, please forgive me.”

She stands there—staring at him in bewilderment. And Adrian gazes at those gorgeous green-ringed hazel eyes, now so wide, as her mouth hangs open with her lovely, fair face and her coppery-red hair pinned behind her like it was the day they met. With her hands shaking, she nods her head frantically, as though she understands how tortured he’d felt when she’d mentioned Gen-Health Labs. She seems to realize—he hopes, oh yes, how he fervently hopes—that she understands the urgency of his need to know more about the woman he loves and this delightful little girl Marlee. It’s all so intense, Adrian feels he could collapse from the anticipation of hoping Megan can appreciate his desperate wish—no, his absolute
need
—to know more about the two of them, Megan and Marlee, who are now so intertwined in his life. He can’t imagine living without them. His entire body feels damp. His heart pounds like a sledgehammer in his chest, and every nerve ending on his skin fires away in bursts of nervous energy. He looks into her eyes and hears Megan whisper, “Adrian, what—what were the results?”

“They came back today.”

Megan blinks again and again, and she looks frozen in anticipation.

“Megan, my love …”

She nods at him frantically as her lips and chin tremble. He wants to hold her in his arms, nuzzle and kiss her tenderly, and he can barely believe what he’s about to say, but it’s the deepest and most abiding truth in his world.

“She’s ours—yours and mine, Megan,” he says, nearly choking. “I’m Marlee’s father.”