Unintended Consequences (18 page)

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, the smile now completely gone.

“I’m looking for Alice. Maybe Roger mentioned to you that I’d be back today?”

Pam’s smile returned. “Oh, you’re that investigator. Alice is all the way back in that corner,” she said, pointing down the row of desks. “You can go on back. She’s expecting you.”

Tommy made his way past the various public workers, some busy at their desks, others chatting with each other. He passed one guy playing Freecell on his computer. As he approached Alice’s desk, he saw a petite, gray-haired woman with thick-lensed glasses, dressed in a flowered blouse and a pleated skirt.

“Morning, Alice. I’m Tommy Noorland. Did Roger happen to speak to you about me?”

“You’re the investigator, right? Asking about an abandoned child?”

“That’s right.”

“We’ve had a number of abandoned children who’ve come through these doors, but none that had leukemia.”

“Are you certain? Have you gone back through the records?”

Alice’s body stiffened. “I make it my business to know about the children that come through here. I can’t remember the name of every one over the years, but I can assure you that I’d have remembered one who had leukemia. And such a pretty child, too. I certainly would have remembered that face.”

Tommy couldn’t say he was surprised. Step by step, his suspicions were being confirmed. George hadn’t abandoned his sick daughter in Minnesota—he’d murdered her.

Last stop—the Mayo Clinic. His phone work back at the HIPP office had been helpful in working his way through the complex of campuses that made up the medical center. He knew just where he needed to go: If Angelina had been treated there, she would have ended up at either the Mayo Clinic Cancer Center or, more likely, Saint Mary’s Hospital, where pediatric medicine was practiced. Tommy easily maneuvered through the streets of Rochester and arrived at Saint Mary’s ten minutes later.

He’d called ahead and made an appointment with Dr. Jeffreys, head of the pediatric department. When he arrived, Jeffreys’s secretary brought him into the doctor’s office to wait for him. And wait. A half hour later, he started to get fidgety. He’d never had the patience to sit and do nothing. Just as he stood to leave, the door opened and a short, balding man with patches of red hair on the back and sides of his head walked in. Instead of hospital garb, he wore gray slacks and a navy blazer, with a blue striped shirt and a dark-red tie. He looked to be in his early forties, not old enough to have headed up pediatrics when Angelina was a toddler.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to wait so long,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Jeffreys. Did anyone offer you some coffee?”

“No, but I’m fine. I already had my java for the morning. I appreciate you making the time to see me. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“Well, yes, I am, of course, but I’m here now and so are you, so tell me, how can I help you.”

Tommy handed the doctor Calhoun’s signed release and took out a picture of Angelina. “Have you ever seen this child? It would have been about nineteen years ago.”

“No,” Dr. Jeffreys answered quickly. “But at that time I was still doing my residency at Yale Medical School. What’s her name? I can check and see if there’s a record of her as a patient here.”

“Her real name was Angelina Calhoun, but she probably would have been registered under a different name.”

“I don’t understand.”

Tommy filled him in about Calhoun’s story.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to help you. None of the doctors in the peeds unit now were on staff back in 1990.”

“Do you know if any are still in the area, maybe in a private practice?”

“Daniels moved to our center in Miami; Goldstein retired and I’ve heard he’s moved, but I can’t say where; and Blonstein, well, he passed away suddenly last summer.”

It was like a broken record everywhere he went. Nobody knew anything. Was that the case because Angelina had never been here or because it was just too damn hard to search back nineteen years when he didn’t even know what name she’d been given? Either way, he had nothing.

“I suppose I could post her picture in the doctors’ lounge,” Dr. Jeffreys offered. “If you have another copy of her photo, I could post it in the nurses’ lounge as well. You never know.”

“Thanks, Doc. Anything would help. But you know, we’re running out of time here, so if someone recognizes her, they need to reach me ASAP.” Tommy thanked the doctor and left.

As he walked to his carm his cell phone rang. “Tommy Noorland here.”

“Tommy, this is Helen, from Vital Records. I just finished the search. I’m sorry. Nothing came up.”

“Thanks, Helen. I appreciate you trying.”

Well, that’s it. I’m batting zero. If George was telling the truth, I don’t think we’ll ever find out.

C
HAPTER

19

H
e’d stared at the computer screen for twenty minutes, transfixed by the half-column story in the
Indiana Star.
He’d almost missed it. Now he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Indiana State Superior Court denies bid to exhume dead child’s body.” That was the headline. He had just scanned the page when the name “George Calhoun” screamed out.

Okay. He had to calm down. It had been denied. They weren’t going to dig her up. But he knew that rulings got appealed. Maybe this wasn’t over. Damn! His hands were clammy. His chest felt tight. He struggled to take a breath. Was he having a heart attack? He almost wished he were. Then this would be over. The terror of being discovered would be gone.

Slowly, the tightness subsided and his breathing relaxed. He was okay. He would come through this. God hadn’t spared him only to trip him up now, like some sort of cosmic joke. He thought about it. Was there another appeal? Maybe it was too late now. But if there were enough time, if they could appeal and the court let them exhume the body, then what? Even if they learned it wasn’t the Calhouns’ daughter, they still wouldn’t know who was buried in that anonymous grave. Only he knew the name of the child. Only he knew he’d caused her death, burned her body beyond recognition, and discarded her like worthless trash.

He’d done what he had to to protect himself. And he’d do whatever needed to be done to continue protecting himself.

C
HAPTER

20

“I
realize it’s only been a week, but have you thought about what you’re going to do with your mother’s house?”

Nancy’s question startled Sunny. She felt a rush of tears and struggled to hold them back. She couldn’t bear parting with the house on Aspen Road. Not yet, at least. Later, when the pain of her mother’s death wasn’t so intense. She knew, though, that her reluctance stemmed from a secret wish that they would return to that house when Eric finished his residency. That was just a little more than a year away.

Byron was a wonderful place to raise a family, with its tree-lined streets, good schools, and neighbors who looked out for each other. Her mother had met Nancy when she lived in the house next door. They’d quickly become friends and remained so after Nancy and her husband moved.

“I don’t want to sell it, Nancy. Maybe after Eric finishes here, when we know where we’ll end up. But not yet.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know a handyman who can close it up. You know, drain the pipes and those sorts of things. I hope I’m not being too practical for you now, but there are some matters you should deal with right away.”

“No, you’re right. Is there something else I should be doing?”

“Well, you need to cancel the phone and cable service, things like that. And do you know if your mom left a will?”

“No. We never talked about that. I never thought that Mom might die. I mean, of course I knew it would happen someday, just not so soon.”

“Well, whether she did or didn’t, you’ll need a lawyer to transfer the house into your name. Make sure everything is done proper and all. I can recommend an estate attorney if you’d like.”

“You’ve been a godsend during this whole ordeal, Nancy. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

After they finished their conversation and said their goodbyes, Sunny went back to cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She felt an ache in her chest when she thought of her mother, of their strong bond and their fierce love for each other. Her mother had been her best friend and now she was gone. Sunny’s ties to Byron were severed.

Manhattan life seemed so different from life in Byron. No one smiled. No one made small talk when they passed in the hallway or rode together in the elevator. Thank goodness for play dates, when children got together while their mothers watched and gabbed. At least then she had some women to talk to. Not that they talked about anything serious. Sunny called it “empty talk.” What movies they’d seen, what had happened on the latest installment of their favorite television shows, what gossip they’d heard. Sunny would never discuss with them the isolation she felt in this imposing city, how inadequate she sometimes felt raising a child, how she yearned to be living in a small town.

She’d had a wonderful childhood in Byron and wanted the same for Rachel. Instead of organized play dates, the children on her street would go door to door gathering friends. They’d ride their bikes up and down the block, make up games to play in their backyards, explore the nooks and crannies in each other’s homes. When they were at Sunny’s house, her mother would often be planted at the kitchen table, lost in discussion with Nancy. Sometimes Sunny would catch snippets of their conversation, so she knew they’d shared their deepest concerns and desires.

She heard rustling coming from Rachel’s bedroom, a sign that she was stirring from her nap. Rachel usually awoke with a lusty cry, but if she saw Sunny sitting on her bed and stroking her arm, she awoke with a smile. Sunny headed to the bedroom.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” she said as Rachel opened her eyes. “Want some ju-ju?”

“Yeth, apple ju-ju.”

Sunny knew she meant apple juice. “Okay, scoot out of bed and let’s go get some.”

“And then play with Billy?”

“No, sweetie, not today.”

“I want Billy,” she whined.

How could she explain to her daughter that she was still too sad to sit with other women and engage in “empty talk.” “We’ll go to the zoo today. How about that?”

“And we’ll see the aminals?”

“Yes, and you can feed the goats and sheep if you’d like.”

Rachel’s face glowed with her smile. “Yippee.”

How easy to please a three-year-old
, Sunny thought.
If only life stayed that way
.

C
HAPTER

21

D
ani was exhausted. She and Melanie had worked around the clock. After filing the appeal of Judge Edwards’s order denying exhumation of the body, they’d gone painstakingly through everything that had taken place before HIPP became involved and put together a petition, filed in the federal district court of northern Indiana, to set aside Calhoun’s conviction on the basis of ineffective assistance of counsel. The papers had been submitted and now all they could do was wait for the hearing dates. Tonight was the first time Dani had been home in weeks without hours of work awaiting in her upstairs office.

With Jonah fast asleep, Dani lay entwined in Doug’s arms on the living-room couch. It was honeymoon hour, but she was too tired to talk. She snuggled in his arms silently while he stroked her hair. The tenderness of his touch soothed her and she felt herself begin to unwind. “I think our papers are good, but they would have been so much stronger if Tommy had been able to get some confirmation of Calhoun’s story,” she said when her energy started to return.

“You can only deal with the facts you have.”

“Well, obviously. I’ve been doing this for some time, you know. I’m not naïve.”

“Ouch.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m being irritable and I shouldn’t. I’m just too tired to restrain myself.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been married to you for some time, and I know how you get. I’m not naïve.”

“Ouch.”

They both laughed, and suddenly Dani felt the heaviness she’d carried around for days leave her body. “Seriously, I’m worried about Calhoun’s chances. It’s so much easier when the appeal is based on DNA evidence.”

“That’s true. You’ve got a tough road here. Especially this late in the game. He’s already been turned down on multiple appeals.”

“Sure, but his lawyer did a half-assed job on those. And George hadn’t offered an explanation for his daughter’s disappearance back then.”

“The court’s not going to look too kindly on him waiting seventeen years to offer that explanation.”

That’s what troubled Dani the most. Seventeen years of silence. She understood Calhoun’s reason. She appreciated the driving force to protect his child. Silence bought Angelina the possibility of treatment. It bought George hope that she would have a future. But once five or six years had passed, the time when it would be known whether the treatment had helped her or she had succumbed to the cancer, he’d still offered no explanation. Why? Dani had spoken to Calhoun on the phone many times since her first visit. When she asked that question, he said, “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” And perhaps he was right. When he finally did broach it with his first attorney, Wilson ignored him.

“I know. My fear is they’ll equate his silence with guilt. That’s what Tommy thinks. He’s sure George only gave us part of his story; that he mixed some truth with his lies to make him seem more believable. He knew we’d be able to confirm his daughter’s medical history and then made up a story that would be impossible to check out.”

“What does he think happened to Angelina?”

“He thinks George murdered her. Maybe because he felt overwhelmed by her illness, maybe because he thought it more merciful than letting her suffer.”

“And you? Do you have any doubts?”

She thought about Doug’s question. This was her first investigation. It had been her decision to take Calhoun’s case. It would make sense for her to feel some uncertainty, but she didn’t. “None. Absolutely none. And that’s what makes this so hard. I believe Calhoun is innocent, but I’m not sure I can save him.”