Deborah pulled over to the side of the road. They were in sight of the public library at the corner of Pierce and Main. She put the car in park and turned to look at Joanna. "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think visiting these people is a good idea at all. A call, okay, but not a visit."
"We'll call first,' Joanna said. "But if the children exist, I want to see them."
"That was never part of our plan," Deborah said. "We were just going to find out if children had resulted. We never talked about a visit. It's not healthy, nor do I think the parents would appreciate it."
"I'm not going to tell them I was the donor,' Joanna said. "If that's what you are worried about."
"I'm worried about you," Deborah said. "Knowing a child exists is one thing, seeing him in reality is another. I don't think you should put yourself through such a situation. It's asking for emotional heartache."
"It's not going to cause any emotional heartache," Joanna said. "It will be reassuring. It will make me feel good."
"That's what the addict said with the first dose of heroin," Deborah said. "If these children exist, and you see them, you'll want to see them again, and that's not fair to anyone."
"You're not going to talk me out of this," Joanna said. She took out her cellular phone and began punching in the number for Mr. and Mrs. Harold Sard. She looked at Deborah as the call went through. The fact that it was ringing meant it was a real number and not a made-up one.
"Hello, Mrs. Sard?" Joanna questioned when the phone was answered.
"Yes, who's this?"
"This is Prudence Heatherly from the Wingate Clinic," Joanna said. "How's the little one doing?"
"Jason is doing just fine," Mrs. Sard said. "We're quite excited. He's just starting to crawl."
Joanna raised her eye brows for Deborah's benefit. "He's starting to crawl already! That's terrific! Listen, Mrs. Sard, the reason I'm calling is that we'd like to do some follow-up on Jason. Would it be alright if myself and another Wingate Clinic employee came by for a brief visit with the boy?"
"Of course!" Mrs. Sard said. "If it weren't for the hard work you people do, we wouldn't have this bundle of joy. He's such a blessing. We've wanted a child for so long. When would you like to come by."
"Is the next half hour or so convenient?"
"That would be perfect. He's just awakened from his afternoon nap, so he should be in good spirits. Do you have the address?"
"I do, but I could use some directions," Joanna said.
The directions turned out to be simple. They involved merely turning left on Main Street, heading into town, and then taking the first left after the RiteSmart pharmacy. The house was a sixties-style split-level with its faux brick disengaging from its front facade and its trim sorely in need of a paint job. In contrast a brand-new child's swing set stood gleaming in the afternoon sun at the side of the modest house.
Deborah pulled into the driveway behind a vintage Ford pickup. She spotted the swings. "A new swing set for a six-month-old! I'd wager that means an eager dad!”
"The woman did say they've been wanting a child for some time."
"It doesn't look like a house belonging to people able to pay the money the Wingate requires."
Joanna nodded. "It makes you wonder where they found the money. Infertility makes couples desperate. They often remortgage the house or just borrow the money, but looking at this house doesn't suggest either of those avenues as possibilities."
Deborah turned to Joanna. "Which means they've probably ended up with little money for the financial burden of raising a child. Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, it might be rather bleak in there, and upsetting. My advice is we just turn around and leave, no harm done."
"I want to see the child," Joanna said. "Trust me! I can handle it." She opened the door and got out. Deborah did the same on her side, and the two women headed up the front walk. With her high heels Deborah had to walk with particular care to avoid the many cracks in the concrete. Even so she lost her shoe, requiring her to bend over to extricate it.
"Do me a favor and bend your knees when you do that,' Joanna said. "I can see why you caught Randy's attention back at the water fountain."
"Your jealousy has no bounds," Deborah teased back.
The two women climbed the front steps.
"Are you ready for this?" Deborah asked with her finger poised over the doorbell.
"Ring the darn bell!" Joanna said. "You're making this into such a big deal!"
Deborah rang the bell. It could be heard chiming within. The chiming went on for several seconds as if playing a tune.
"That's a nice touch," Deborah said sarcastically.
"Don't be so judgmental!" Joanna complained.
The door opened and through the dirty glass of the storm door the women could make out a moderately obese woman in a house dress carrying a baby with a shock of black hair. When the storm door opened to provide an unencumbered view, both women's mouths dropped in astonished dismay. Deborah even staggered back in her high heels, and only by grabbing onto the railing was she able to maintain her balance.
PAUL SAUNDERS HAD MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO than meet with Kurt Hermann. He'd even had to postpone the autopsy he was going to do with Greg Lynch on the sow's newborns down. in. the farm autopsy room. But Kurt had said it was crucial they speak right away, and Paul had reluctantly agreed, especially when Kurt had insisted they meet in the gatehouse away from other ears. Paul knew that meant trouble, but he wasn't concerned. He was confident in Kurt's abilities and discretion for which he was paid a lot of money… a very lot of money1.
As Paul neared the squat structure he recalled the last time he'd been there. It had been well over a year before when there'd been the anesthetic disaster. He couldn't help but remember how efficiently and with what aplomb Kurt had handled that crisis, and the memory contributed to Paul's composure.
At the door Paul kicked off the mud his shoes had picked up on his walk down the moist lawn that was still recovering from the previous snowy winter. Once inside, he found his security chief at his desk in his ascetic office. Paul grabbed a chair and sat.
"We have a major security problem," Kurt said with his characteristic equanimity. He had his elbows on the desktop with his clasped hands in the air. He pointed his steepled index fingers at Paul to emphasize his point but otherwise there was no sign of emotion or panic.
"I'm listening," Paul said.
"Two new employees started today," Kurt said. "A Georgina Marks and Prudence Heatherly. I assume you interviewed them as you normally do."
"Absolutely," Paul said. In his mind's eye he immediately pictured Georgina and her curvaceous body.
"I've been doing some investigating. They are not who they said they are."
"Explain!."
"They've used assumed names," Kurt said. "Georgina Marks and Prudence Heatherly were from the Boston area, but they are both recently deceased."
Paul swallowed in an attempt to relieve a suddenly dry mouth. "Who are they?" he asked. He cleared his throat. "Do we have any idea?"
"We know the name of one of them,' Kurt said. "It's Deborah Cochrane. The car they were driving is registered to her. The other name is as of yet unknown, but that will soon change. The address they gave is incorrect, but we have a real address, at least for Deborah Cochrane, and at this point I'm assuming it's the correct address for both."
"Congratulations on finding this out so soon," Paul said.
"I don't think congratulations are in order just yet,' Kurt said. "There's more."
"I'm still listening," Paul said. He fidgeted. He was momentarily concerned that as good as Kurt was, perhaps he'd discovered that Paul had asked the woman using the Georgina alias out to dinner and had been turned down.