Hush_ A Novel Part 20

The late summer sun nudged her awake just after six. For a moment she luxuriated in the soft feel of it on her face until, with a jolt, she remembered everything. She sat up against the headboard and ran her hands through her hair. She didn't want to wake Alexis-she sensed she'd have the phone slammed down in her ear if she did-but she didn't want to miss her if she went to work someplace. She decided to call just before eight. Until then she would rehea.r.s.e her presentation.

After dressing and making coffee, she opened her laptop. Client presentations were the part of her work she'd always liked the least, and in the early years she had positively dreaded them. She'd felt so exposed, at times even wondering if the shadow of her birthmark was actually darkening and pulsing as she spoke. But she had worked with a speech coach and learned to feel more at ease.

As she went through her presentation out loud, she seemed to stumble over every other word. It would be even worse at the clinic, she knew. Levin had been so cool to her the other day, and Brie may have since gone running to him about finding Lake poking through the files-hardly the makings of a receptive audience. To say nothing of the fact that the killer might very well be one of the people sitting at the conference table during the presentation. She couldn't imagine how she'd ever manage to appear confident and professional.

At twenty of eight, unable to wait any longer, she phoned Alexis. The same blunt, unhappy voice said h.e.l.lo. A male voice-from the TV or radio-yammered in the background.

"Alexis, this is Lake Warren. I came by to see you-"

"I remember."

"Of course. I-"

"What do you want?"

"You said the other night that you were reluctant to share more with me because you weren't sure of my agenda. It's true that I wasn't very clear. You see, I'm actually working at the clinic-as a consultant. I was afraid to tell you that because I was going behind their back."

"And your point is? I'm not sure why you're confessing this now."

"Because I want the chance to speak to you again," Lake said. "I'm really concerned that something wrong might be going on there. If you tell me what to look for, I may be able to find evidence."

There was a very long pause. If Lake hadn't still heard the background voices, she might have thought Alexis had disconnected the call.

"You actually work there. At the Advanced Fertility Center?" Alexis said finally.

"Yes. I'm sorry I was reluctant to tell you before."

"All right. I'll speak to you again. When?"

"As soon as possible. I'm finis.h.i.+ng up my work there, so if I'm going to try to get any proof, I have to act immediately."

"All right-come now, then."

Lake was in a cab in ten minutes. The whole way to the East Side, she warned herself to handle Alexis delicately, to resist pouncing. She couldn't come away empty-handed this time.

Alexis was wearing another wrap dress, this one in pinks and browns. Her apartment looked exactly the way it had two days before, like unchanging scenery for a play.

"So you work at the clinic," Alexis said coldly as they took the same seats in the living room they had on Tuesday. "What an interesting detail to have left out of our previous conversation."

"I'm sorry. Like I said, I was afraid of making trouble...until I knew it might be justified."

"Is business booming these days?" Alexis asked sarcastically. "I read the other day that the average age of marriage is increasing for women. That kind of news must make Levin and Sherman positively gleeful gleeful."

"I know they want to build their business-that's why they hired me. I'm a marketing consultant."

"Marketing? So you're not in the lab or anything like that? Do you have any medical expertise at all?" So you're not in the lab or anything like that? Do you have any medical expertise at all?"

"No. I've had other clients in the health-care field, but-"

"d.a.m.n." Alexis shook her head hard to the left, as if she were flicking water from her hair. "I need someone in the lab."

"Why?" Lake asked, surprised. "Is that where you think the problem is?"

"Look, I really don't see how you can help me," Alexis snapped.

Lake could feel her own anxiety starting to balloon. She couldn't walk out of there without the truth.

"Please let me try," she urged. "You can tell me exactly what to look for. If there's something less than kosher going on, I want to help you expose it."

"Less than kosher?" Alexis said. The testy tone was back, like a tiger that had suddenly slunk out of the bush. "Excuse my eyes from bulging out of my head, but considering what they did to me, that has to be the understatement of the year."

"What do you mean?" Lake asked. "What did they do?"

"They stole my baby."

Lake played the words back in her mind, trying to decipher them.

"Your baby?" she said. "But I thought you weren't able to conceive?"

"I did did conceive-in a petri dish. And when I was denied future access to my embryos, they gave them to someone else." conceive-in a petri dish. And when I was denied future access to my embryos, they gave them to someone else."

Involuntarily Lake's hand flew to her mouth.

"My G.o.d," she said. "How-how did you find out?"

"I saw the baby with my own eyes."

"At the clinic?" Lake asked.

"No. At a store on Madison Avenue. I'd been running errands and had gone into this little gourmet food store to grab a sandwich. They have a few tables in the back there where you can eat lunch. And then this woman-Melanie's her name-came in with a toddler in a stroller. And the baby was the spitting image of Charlotte." her name-came in with a toddler in a stroller. And the baby was the spitting image of Charlotte."

Okay, Lake thought, so this is the nut-job part that Archer had mentioned.

Alexis smiled wickedly with her tiny pink lips.

"You don't believe me, do you?" she said.

"No, it's not that," Lake said. "I'm just digesting what you said."

At that, Alexis shot up and for a brief second Lake wondered if she was going to walk over to the couch and slap her. But she hurried out of the room, leaving Lake alone. When she returned a moment later, she was carrying a small piece of paper in her incongruously slim fingers. On her way back across the room, she picked up the silver-framed photograph of Charlotte.

"Here," she said, thrusting both things toward Lake. Lake saw that the piece of paper was actually a slightly blurry photo of a toddler in a stroller, perhaps taken with a cell phone. The two toddlers looked almost identical.

"Are they...twins?" Lake asked, her voice catching.

"Interesting thought, isn't it?" Alexis said, smirking. "But, no, you can't produce identical twins with an IVF procedure. Brian and I look alike, though, and a sibling of Charlotte's would look very much like her. Think of those Olson twins. They're fraternal twins and yet people can barely tell them apart."

"You took this photo of the child?"

"Yes. When I saw the baby, I changed tables to get closer and took some pictures when the woman was busy blabbing to someone on her cell phone."

"Did you say something to her about it?"

"Good G.o.d, no," Alexis said. "I may be crazed but I'm not stupid stupid. If this woman had known what I'd just put together, she would have left skid marks on her way out the door."

"How did you figure out her name, then?"

"She used a credit card to pay. After she left, I asked one of the clerks for her name-I said I thought I might have known her in college and wanted to double-check. I'm a regular there and the clerk didn't think anything of it. I'm not sure what this woman was doing on the Upper East Side that day. She lives in Brooklyn. In that area they call Dumbo."

She'd said the word disdainfully, as if it was synonymous with dung heap dung heap. But it was a hip, trendy part of Brooklyn-Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpa.s.s-that Lake had visited several times with friends.

"How...?"

"How do I know where she lives?" Alexis asked, her voice edgy again. "She and her husband are listed.... Oh wait, how do I know she'd been a patient at the Advanced Fertility Center? That was as easy to find out as her address. I called the girl at the front desk, pretending to be Melanie, saying I needed to review some of my dates for insurance reasons. She'd had two rounds of IVF, starting two months after I'd been told Brian wouldn't release my embryos to me. I didn't want the embryos destroyed, in case Brian changed his mind. But they knew I'd never be back. So they gave them to her."

Lake let out a long breath. The story was horrific-and almost too crazy to believe.

"But why would Sherman have to resort to this?" Lake asked. "If this woman couldn't conceive with her own eggs, why not use eggs from an actual donor? The clinic has even started its own donor program."

"She probably didn't want want a donor," Alexis said. "She looked like she was in her early forties and she was probably hoping she could still have her a donor," Alexis said. "She looked like she was in her early forties and she was probably hoping she could still have her own own child. And I'm sure Sherman encouraged her just like he did me. He and Levin like to tell women, 'You child. And I'm sure Sherman encouraged her just like he did me. He and Levin like to tell women, 'You will will get pregnant,' as if they're the Baby Makers. When Sherman found her eggs were useless, he was stuck. So he just used my embryos-without ever telling her." get pregnant,' as if they're the Baby Makers. When Sherman found her eggs were useless, he was stuck. So he just used my embryos-without ever telling her."

Over the past few weeks Lake had read enough about in vitro fertilization to understand the challenges faced by patients over forty. As part of IVF, a woman underwent hormone therapy to encourage the ovaries to release multiple eggs. Those eggs were then collected and placed in a petri dish with sperm from the woman's partner-or, for an additional fee, even injected with sperm to facilitate fertilization. But if the woman was close to forty, or older, like Melanie, the chances for successful fertilization were slim. By that point in a woman's life, her eggs had not only declined rapidly in number but also in quality-in fact, by the time a woman was forty-three, only about ten percent of her eggs were viable. The older the woman, the poorer the chances of harvesting enough viable eggs to fertilize and transfer back to her body. That's why some clinics didn't even take women over forty.

"And you never signed any kind of permission allowing them to share your eggs?"

"Never."

"Have you confronted Sherman about this?" Lake asked.

"Of course. I called him after I'd figured out Melanie was a patient. He was totally patronizing. He told me I should talk to a psychologist who specializes in-quote-'women like you.'"

"Did he suggest you talk to Harry Kline?"

"The psychologist they have on staff? No. I guess they only use him for the women they feel haven't gone completely off the deep end yet and they can still milk for procedures."

"Is there any way of getting a DNA test?"

"Not that I've found so far. Believe it or not, in these cases, the law protects the custodial parent-which is despicable. That's my my baby and she's supposed to be with baby and she's supposed to be with me me."

Lake glanced down at the photos again. It was was uncanny how alike the two little girls looked. If Alexis was right and the clinic had done this to improve Melanie's chances of conceiving, it likely wasn't the first time-or the last. uncanny how alike the two little girls looked. If Alexis was right and the clinic had done this to improve Melanie's chances of conceiving, it likely wasn't the first time-or the last.

"Do you think this woman, Melanie, has any suspicions that the child may not be hers?"

"I doubt it," Alexis said. "If you've been desperate for a baby, you don't allow yourself to question these things. And whether it was intentional or not, Sherman did a brilliant job of matching the coloring. This Melanie woman has light coloring like mine. And her husband's probably fair as well. His name is Turnbull, a snooty English name."

Lake felt her skin turn cold. Melanie Turnbull Melanie Turnbull. She'd heard that name before-and recently.

And then she remembered. It was the name written on the sc.r.a.p of paper she'd seen in the black bowl in Keaton's loft.

20.

"DO YOU KNOW KNOW her?" Alexis asked. She was studying Lake intensely and had seen the flicker of discomposure. her?" Alexis asked. She was studying Lake intensely and had seen the flicker of discomposure.

"No-of course not. I'm just trying to absorb everything."

"So what are you going to do to help me?"

"What?" Lake asked distractedly. She could barely concentrate. In her mind she kept seeing the slip of paper in the bowl. Why did Keaton have Melanie Turnbull's name? Had he stumbled onto something suspicious about her pregnancy? Maybe this was the reason he'd decided not to join the clinic. And maybe this this was the reason he'd been murdered. was the reason he'd been murdered.

"You wanted the truth and I told you," Alexis said fiercely. "Are-?"

"Let me ask you one more question," Lake said, trying to find her footing again. "The day you spoke to Sherman-you didn't talk to another doctor there, did you? Mark Keaton?"

"No," Alexis said, annoyed, it seemed, at having been driven off topic. "I've never even heard of him. So are you going to be able to get into the lab or not?"

"I definitely want to help, but what would getting into the lab do? I'm not sure what I'd be able to discover."

"You could see what the people there are up to," Alexis said. "You might overhear something important."

"I seriously doubt they'd say anything incriminating in front of me, even if I did manage to spend any time in there. But look, I do have access to the charts-I actually looked at yours before. Now that I know about the Turnbulls, I can see if there's anything in their chart linking the two of you."

"Like what?"

"Well, they must have made some kind of notation in Melanie's file indicating who they got the embryos from. With both files in front of me, I may be able to spot it."

Alexis eyed her skeptically. "Maybe," she said. She glanced away, thinking.

"There's something you should be aware of," Lake said. "Your chart indicated that you had only two embryos left. You told me there was a good amount."

Alexis shook her head back and forth angrily.

"Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," she said. "So if Brian ever relents, they'll just say I had fewer than I thought-or that some deteriorated."

Unexpectedly, tears welled in Alexis's eyes. It was the first time Lake had seen her look truly vulnerable.

"I'm going to do my best to help," Lake said. "I'm headed to the clinic later today and will try to see the files. I'll let you know if I find anything."

As Alexis walked Lake to the door, she grasped her arm so hard it hurt.

"I have to get my baby back," Alexis said. "There has to be a judge who will give her to me, if you can prove what Sherman did."

When Lake hurried out of the building minutes later, she saw the doorman study her curiously and she realized how rattled she must look. Halfway down the block toward Fifth Avenue she sank onto a stoop. Could Alexis's story really be true? she wondered. It seemed so farfetched. And yet it couldn't be a coincidence that Keaton had Melanie's name.