by Debra Webb
Claire blinked from her trance, then stared down at the fine toiletries arranged neatly on her dressing table, avoiding her daughter’s gaze. As children Kate and Jill had loved playing with their mother’s perfume bottles and decorative boxes of sweet scented powders.
“It’s all falling apart,” Claire said quietly, calmly as if she’d just announced it wouldn’t rain today after all. “I can’t stop it.”
Jill eased her weight onto her knees and clasped her mother’s hand between hers. “Please, Mom, tell me what that means. Let’s face this awful thing together. What can’t you stop?”
Claire shifted her gaze to Jill’s. Fear, stark and vivid, glittered there. “I lost your father. Now Cody...” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “And possibly Kate.” Her gaze collided with Jill’s once more. “I can’t lose you too. I just can’t.”
She clutched Jill’s hand against her chest. “Promise me, Jillian, that you’ll be careful. Swear to me that you’ll give up this useless investigation! Go back to Jackson today, please.”
The intensity in her mother’s eyes, the urgency in her voice told Jill in no uncertain terms that Claire was afraid—no, she was terrified.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I am not afraid. I will find the truth.”
Claire shook her head so adamantly that a pin flew from her neatly coifed French twist. “You don’t understand. You have to stop. You have to send that man away and you have to go.” A new flood of tears swelled then rolled down her pale cheeks. “Please, Jillian. Do this for me. For your sister. Please. I can’t lose anyone else.”
~*~
Paul stared at the notepad where he had arranged his research into chronological statistics.
His investigator reflexes had kicked into overdrive and his heart sped up to triple-time as more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He resisted the urge to rush to Ellington House and physically drag Jill back to Jackson. His instincts were screaming at him, something too awful to imagine much less accept as fact. But it was real... too real.
For two years before and after Benford Chemical was shut down, there was not a single birth in Paradise. Not one. Then, suddenly, one year after The LifeCycle Center set up shop, there were dozens, including Jill and Kate Ellington.
For the entire thirty years since its closing, not one word had been mentioned in print about Benford Chemical, other than the brief blurb a few years after Charles Benford’s murder saying the case was still unsolved. Ironically, the newspaper reporter who had written the brief piece died only one month after its publication. Then nothing. From what he could see, Charles Benford and Benford Chemical never existed as far as Paradise was concerned.
Like it never happened.
Even stranger, when he did a search on Benford, a long list of articles related to the illegal chemical dumping popped up. But not when he searched Paradise. The only connection between Paradise and Benford was in the articles about Benford Chemical. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the town out of the limelight during that ugly business.
Since the Paradise Gazette was only one issue per week, it didn’t take Paul long to scan the last year’s editions. The ones Jill had perused last night. But she hadn’t known what he was looking for... not really. Hell, he hadn’t even known. But he did now.
He hesitated on the front page of a three-month-old edition. Ribbon Cutting Ceremony for New MedTech Wing. Karl Manning and Mayor Hammersly had officiated at the landmark event. The ceremony celebrated the opening of an entire new wing for highly advanced medical research, such as cloning. A chill blew through Paul. MedTech, according to the article, was the first research corporation in the United States to be granted limited license to perform animal and human cloning studies.
Voices whispered through Paul’s head, echoing a warning that was already mushrooming in his chest.
His gaze snagged on something in the background of the article’s accompanying photo. The new wing... large, sleek walls of glass and granite. But that wasn’t what drew his eye. It was the emblem mounted high on the six-story building. Gemini... the astrological sign... twins.
Paul lunged to his feet, sending his chair thudding against an adjacent table. He could hardly think over the fear rushing through his blood... pounding in his chest.
The image of the boy in Lynchburg who looked so much like Cody soared into his consciousness... then Kate and Jill. Cody’s body suddenly being found... the crime scene staging in the Manning home photos... the whole town seemingly on the defensive about Jill’s questions.
Paul shoved his notes together in a transportable pile and rushed out of the library. He needed help on this one. Information he no longer had the power or, at the moment, the time to access.
After driving outside the city limits to the convenience store he’d stopped at on his way here, he parked and went inside. Every muscle in his body was jumping as he waited for the guy behind the counter to finish waiting on his last customer.
Paul flashed his credentials that looked official but weren’t. “I have an emergency and I need to use your phone.”
The guy looked him up and down, his expression openly suspect. Paul knew he looked a little rough around the edges this morning. He wore the same clothes he’d worn yesterday and there’d been no time to shave.
“It’s official business,” he added when the clerk looked ready to say no.
“Okay.” The clerk passed him the phone.
Paul stepped away from the counter and punched in the number he still knew by heart. He waited, his pulse tripping, as it rang, once, twice, three times.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the pleasant voice greeted.
“Extension two-three-oh.” Paul struggled for a deep breath.
“One moment, sir.”
Three rings later the voice he needed to hear echoed across the line. “Cuddahy.”
“Tom, this is Paul Phillips.”
Silence.
“How’s it going, buddy?”
Paul heard the concern in the other man’s voice. Typically that set him off on a rampage. He didn’t need his old friend or anyone else worrying about him. But there was no time. “I’m good,” he lied. They hadn’t spoken in more than a year. Tom called, but Paul never returned his messages.
“It’s been a while.”
Paul understood what he was about to ask was a big favor and he sure hadn’t earned the right to ask but he did anyway. “I need... a favor.”
A pause. “What can I do for you?”
Paul closed his eyes and rode out the wave of relief without embarrassing himself. “I need you to look into a medical research corporation. MedTech. Located in Paradise, Tennessee.” He could hear the scratch of Tom’s pen. “Also, there’s a fertility clinic called The LifeCycle Center. I need to know if these two are somehow connected.” The pen abruptly stopped scrawling.
“Should I even bother asking what this is about?” Tom knew Paul too well.
“I can’t tell you anything just yet, but you’ll be the first to know when I figure this out.”
Another pause. “This isn’t official business, is it?”
Paul considered whether to respond to that one, but he didn’t see the point in lying. Tom would know. “It’s personal.”
“How do I get in touch with you?”
Since Paul refused to carry a cell phone and he didn’t want the call going to the Ellington home, his options were limited. “I’ll call you back. How long before you can have some preliminary answers for me.”
“Give me a call tomorrow morning and I’ll give you an update on what, if anything, I’ve found.”
Tomorrow would be good. “The sooner the better,” he pressed. Tom would understand. “I owe you.”
“Paul, listen,” Tom said, worry vibrating in his voice. “Personal is not good. You know that. Whatever’s going on, you need to step back and keep your distance.”
“Too late,” Paul admitted. Tom was the o
nly real friend he’d ever had and even that relationship had been strained. Mostly because Paul had a problem with close human contact, physical or emotional. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Paul disconnected before his old friend could dig any deeper. He had one last call to make, but he didn’t know the number for this one. He called directory assistance and provided the last name and street address, since he didn’t have the husband’s first name.
“Hello.”
“Sarah Long?” Paul hoped he had the right Long.
“This is Sarah, who’s this?”
“Mrs. Long, this is Dr. Paul Phillips. We met yesterday.”
“Did Ms. Ellington find her nephew?”
Paul opted not to go into that. “He’s still missing,” he hedged. “I wanted to ask you another personal question. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I... guess not. Anything I can do to help but I—”
“Did you use a local obstetrician while you were pregnant?” he interrupted before she could talk herself out of answering.
“I used the clinic,” she said. “Most folks around here do. It’s based on your income and they got real good doctors.”
“What clinic is that?” Anticipation spiked again.
“It’s over near Tullahoma. It’s the Women’s Clinic. All the patients are women. You know, for your yearly check-ups and having babies. Stuff like that.”
Paul made a mental note of the name and location. “Thanks, Mrs. Long, you’ve been an immense help.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with my boy?” she asked cautiously.
“I just needed to know the facility you used. Thank you.” He ended the call before she could ask anything else.
He didn’t want to upset the woman, but Paul would bet his life the Women’s Clinic was connected to The LifeCycle Center. He would also stake his entire reputation, such as it was, on one conclusion: Cody and the Lynchburg boy were twins. They were too identical to simply be related by merely sharing the same biological father. He’d first thought that maybe Kate and Sarah had used the fertility clinic and there’d been a mix-up, but that wasn’t the case. This was no accident. The Gemini emblem flashed through his mind. MedTech and The LifeCycle Center were tampering, experimenting with conception, specifically twins, if his conclusions were correct. Nothing that hadn’t been done before. Except, he suspected this was far bigger.
All he had to do now was prove it.
“Thanks.” He handed the clerk back his phone and walked out.
The sun was already heating up.
And things were only going to get hotter.
~*~
Paul parked in the Ellington drive, near the house.
His old friend was right, he needed to step back. Getting too close on an emotional level was a dangerous risk. With this investigation he and Jill had enough trouble already.
He found her in her room.
“You’re back!” She looked relieved to see him.
“Everything okay?” he asked hesitantly.
She nodded, pulling a brave face. “Mother had a bit of a breakdown this morning. She’s worried about losing someone else she loves. She finally cried.” Jill chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen my mother cry?”
Paul wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, but he resisted. He had to keep his distance. He had to think clearly. That he’d gotten through the morning without a shot of bourbon was a miracle. He planned to keep it that way.
“I should bring you up to speed on what I’ve found so far.”
Jill took his hand and tugged him toward the bed. Reluctantly, he sat down next to her. “Tell me,” she urged.
He went through the statistics he’d collected. She listened, spellbound. No births for two years before or after the closing of Benford Chemicals. He didn’t mention the Gemini thing. There was no point just yet since his thoughts on that were mostly speculation at this point. Nor did he mention calling Sarah Long and Tom Cuddahy.
Jill shook her head. “How could I have grown up here and not known about this?” She massaged her temple and he wondered if her head hurt. “No one ever mentioned there having been any type of chemical disaster in Paradise. Even when we studied local history, there was no mention. It seems impossible that no one would talk about such a life-altering event.”
Paul wasn’t sure how she would take this next part. “One year after the plant closed The LifeCycle Center set up shop in Paradise.”
She frowned, trying to see the connection. “Does that tie in somehow?”
He shrugged. “It looks that way. After four years of no births, LifeCycle comes in and suddenly there are dozens.”
“That would have been...”
“Including you and Kate.”
Confusion and a hint of fear cluttered her face. “Mother is so upset right now, how can I ask her about this?” She laughed but the sound held no humor. “Hey, Mom, did you and Dad have to resort to test tubes to conceive?”
The realization of what that meant seemed to hit her then. Her expression turned bleak. “If they were sterile, that would mean...” She shook her head. “But we look so much like mother. How could that be?”
Paul couldn’t answer that question, but he offered a feasible option. “Maybe only your father was affected. Or maybe neither. The adverse side effects of drugs or chemicals don’t affect everyone precisely the same. You and I could take the same type and dose of a certain drug and have very different reactions.”
“Oh God.” She closed her eyes. “This is too... incredible to contemplate.”
This time he had to touch her. He reached for her and the door swung open, jerking their gazes to the intrusion.
Claire Ellington, her eyes red rimmed, looked startled. “Excuse me. I was... Jill, are you ready.”
It was obvious, Paul noted immediately, from Claire’s manner of dress, all black, that she planned to attend the service.
My mother is agoraphobic.
“I have work to do.” Paul rose slowly, studying the nervous woman lingering at the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Jill. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Wordlessly, Claire stepped aside for him to pass, she didn’t look at him.
She knew he knew.
The feeling was overwhelming, undeniable. It penetrated straight into the center of his being. Hummed just beneath the surface, a sound inside a sound, more like a vibration. But it was, at the same time, crystal clear.
Claire Ellington was part of this mystery.
She was aware, at least to an extent, what was going on in the perfect little southern town of Paradise.
She had known from the start.
Ten minutes passed and Paul was pacing the entry and then the study waiting for Jill to come downstairs. The urge to accompany her to the service was powerful, but he needed to be here. He had every intention of executing an illegal search, and seizure if he came across anything pertinent to the case. Damn, he wanted a drink. Needed a cigarette. But he would not be distracted.
The framed photographs on the Judge’s credenza drew his attention. He had looked at them before, but he had a niggling urge to look again. He moved behind the desk and picked up the picture of Jill at age nine and wearing a tee-ball uniform. In the photograph she smiled widely while poised for swinging the bat. He smiled, touched the innocent face there and finally set it aside. He reached for the matching frame, Kate in the same pose, her smile every bit as mischievous as Jill’s. That’s when it struck him. He looked at each photograph again and the answer was there.
Footsteps on the staircase drew him into the entry hall. Closing the doors behind him, he turned to meet Jill and her mother. Claire managed a tight smile for him when she descended the final step.
“I’ll wait in the car, dear,” she said to her daughter.
Jill looked beautiful, even in black. The unembellished sheath fit to every sweet curve. “We’re going to see Kate after the service. The do
ctor didn’t want her to attend.”
If the doctor had allowed it, Paul would have had serious doubts about his credentials.
“If you need me to go...” The offer was out of his mouth before he could stop it. God, she looked good.
She smiled and something inside him shifted. “Thanks. But I think Mother and I need to do this alone. It’s the first time in a long time that we’ve bonded on any level.”
Paul didn’t mention the supposed agoraphobia. Let Jill have at least this time with her mother without analyzing it to death. As far as he could see, it was about all she’d gotten in the way of closeness with her mother since she’d arrived.
Unable to stop himself, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. He lingered for a moment, wanting more and unwilling to let go of the breath-stealing pull of desire, then he drew back.
“I’ll be back soon,” she murmured, her eyes not quite meeting his. “Thank you for being here.”
She started for the door but Paul stopped her with the question he’d almost forgotten to ask. “Is Kate left-handed or right?”
Jill faced him. “Right-handed, why?”
He nodded once, ignoring her question. “And so are you?” He already knew the answer to that one.
She laughed uncertainly. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
He shook his head. “No real reason. Go on. Your mother’s waiting.”
A frown still troubling her smooth brow, she did as he instructed. He watched her go, uneasiness ratcheting up inside him in slow, steady increments.
It would come to Jill later, as she sat on that hard, polished pew on the front row of the Paradise Methodist Church that true identical twins were most often mirror images. If she was right-handed, Kate should be left-handed.
~*~
Jill stood on the steps of the church between her mother and the somber minister. The service had been relatively short, but agonizing. Now, as they shook the hands of all who had graciously attended, Jill wished it was over. It was impossible to miss the difference between the way she was addressed as each friend and neighbor passed and the way her mother was. Each outstretched hand barely grazed her palm and the owner allowed only the tightest of smiles.
