“Look.” Jennie released a long breath, willing herself to relax. “Let’s go back to my house. We’ll talk to Dad and—”
“No. You’re coming with me. I’m too close to let you run to your daddy and have him mess this up for me. Besides, I need a witness. We’re almost there. Take the next exit.”
Debra directed her to a posh retirement neighborhood and asked her to pull up to the curb of a single-story home that looked very much like the others. A well-manicured lawn and gardens greeted them. The house bordered a golf course.
“Where are we?”
“At Dr. Ellison’s.” She waved the gun. “Get out.”
“How did you know where he lived?”
“Annie told me.”
“Annie …” Jennie tipped her head back. “Oh man, you have Annie, don’t you?”
“I had to get her away and into a safe place. It’s only a matter of time before the murderer tries to kill her too.” Debra stepped out of the car and waited for Jennie.
“Where is she?” Jennie undid her seat belt and reached for the car door.
“You’ll find out as soon as the danger has passed. Now let’s go.”
“I think you should leave your gun in the car.”
“Why, so you can run off? No way. I’ve come this far, and I’m not turning back.”
“At least put it in your purse. Dr. Ellison looks like he’s in pretty good shape. He’s likely to attack you first and ask questions later. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“All right, but don’t try to escape. Remember, I have Annie.”
At Debra’s request, Jennie led the way up the walk and rang the bell. She could have gotten the upper hand—shoved Debra aside and run away. At the moment, however, she felt no real sense of danger. Once inside, she would find a way to let Dr. Ellison know about Debra’s gun. Or maybe it would be better to wait until she led her back to Annie.
Dr. Ellison opened the door and stepped aside. “Jennie. Ms. Noble. What a surprise. Do you have news of Annie?”
Debra has her. Jennie pleaded with him to read her mind.
“No,” Debra said. “Jennie and I wanted to ask you some questions about the day Annie was found.”
He gave Jennie a questioning look. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“May we come in?” Debra nudged Jennie forward.
“Of course. Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the curved sectional. The house had been decorated in a southwest flavor with soft tones of peach, turquoise, and beige, with occasional brighter color spots. It matched Dr. Ellison’s dark tan, turquoise polo shirt, and khaki shorts.
“Can I get you anything?” He walked over to a bar at the far side of the room.
“No, thanks,” Debra said. “Dr. Ellison, let’s get right to the point. Jennie and I have been investigating Annie’s birth, and we think it was Noreen Smith, not Annie’s birth mother, who put her in the trash bin that night.”
“Noreen Smith?” He frowned and walked to a cabinet, where he scooped ice out of a bucket and poured himself something from a black bottle.
“The nurse who was murdered a couple of weeks ago.” This time it was Jennie who spoke. “We think Annie may be Debra’s child.”
He set his drink aside. “I still don’t follow you.”
“Noreen Smith was murdered because of what she knew.” Jennie glanced at Debra, who seemed to have spaced out. Since she wasn’t making any move toward the gun, Jennie decided to make the most of the interview with Dr. Ellison. She told him about the doctor Debra had seen and how she’d gone in for an abortion on the same night Annie was found in the trash bin. “We’re looking for the doctor who performed the abortion on Debra because we think he might be the killer.”
“I see. And why have you come to me? I told you before, I don’t do abortions.”
“I know, but the other day you told my mother that if she were to have an abortion, you would recommend someone. We were hoping you could tell us which doctors might have been working at the Marsh Street Clinic the night Annie was found.”
Still standing behind the bar, he rubbed a hand through his silver hair. “That’s a tall order. These days I’m lucky to remember my name. I could give you the names of some colleagues who were practicing then, but I doubt it will do you any good. Any baby who lived through an abortion would have been taken to the hospital. I can’t imagine any nurse putting one in a dumpster. Now, I have heard of incidents where a baby is sold on the black market, but—”
“No …” Debra whimpered. She stared blankly at a large painting of a younger Dr. and Mrs. Ellison on the opposite wall, then turned a disbelieving look at the doctor. The look of recognition in her eyes turned Jennie’s stomach into knots. Dr. Ellison had been Debra’s doctor.
The pieces began coming together, but not soon enough. Debra reached into her purse for the gun.
Before she could take it out, Jennie stood, pulling Debra to her feet. She didn’t want a confrontation. She and Debra were no match for the doctor. “Um … we really should be going.” Jennie cleared her throat. “We’ve taken up enough of your time. If you think of someone who might have been working that night, maybe you could call us.”
Debra jerked out of Jennie’s grasp and reached into her handbag again.
“No, Debra, don’t!” Jennie watched in horror as the gun emerged from the small black bag.
Dr. Ellison proved even more agile than she’d expected. Before Debra could raise the gun, he ripped it out of her hand and turned it on them. Backing away, he ordered them to sit on the couch. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled.
“I told you not to bring the gun.” Jennie sagged against the plush cushions. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ellison,” Jennie said, still pretending she didn’t know about him.
“Save it, Jennie.” Dr. Ellison looked extremely sad. “I’d hoped it would stop with Noreen and the clinic. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
Debra began sobbing.
Dr. Ellison started to reach for her in an empathetic gesture, then stepped back. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just wanted to do what was best for you and your baby. You were young and unmarried.”
“What was best? You let me believe I killed my child. All these years of torment. Do you have any idea what it’s like? No, of course you don’t. How could you?”
Jennie swallowed back her own tears. “What happened that night, Dr. Ellison? Why was Noreen blackmailing you?”
He seemed surprised. “How could you have known that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He sank into the chair behind him but kept Debra’s gun trained on them. “I’m a doctor, Jennie, not a killer. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I did make a huge mistake. I performed an abortion and walked away from a viable infant.”
“You knew the baby was alive, and you … you left her?”
There were tears in his eyes—eyes Jennie now recognized as those belonging to the old man she’d seen near the Channel 22 building. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No … I didn’t know, not until Noreen called me later that night. Then it was too late to do anything about it. Noreen told me she was cleaning up and heard the baby cry. She asked me what to do. I didn’t want the publicity. Even though late-term abortions were legal, most people, including my colleagues, frowned on it, except when the mother’s health was in danger. When Noreen came up with the idea of putting the baby in the trash bin and calling the police to report it, I felt nothing but relief. I suggested Paul and Jeanette try to adopt Annie, and they did. I quit doing abortions then. Found I couldn’t stomach it anymore. Every time I did one, I’d think of Annie and how close I came to destroying her.”
“When did Noreen start blackmailing you?” Jennie asked.
“About a month later. She threatened to go to the authorities and tell them I’d wal
ked out on a viable fetus and that it had been my idea to throw the baby away. She would admit to calling 9-1-1 and come out the hero. It would have ruined my reputation. Had I not paid her off, I stood to lose everything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me my baby was alive?” Debra seemed more composed now. “She belonged to me, not to your daughter and son-in-law.”
“I thought about it, but you were so young and I didn’t know how to contact you. Besides, I felt it was better that Annie go to a good home with responsible parents. Annie’s had a wonderful life.”
“No—you couldn’t tell me because the truth would have come out. You had to keep your little secret and your career. Did Paul and Jeanette know?”
He shook his head. “No one did except for Noreen and me.”
“What about Lucy?”
“Ah yes, Lucy. She somehow connected Noreen’s death with the bombing of the clinic and called me. She remembered that I used to work with Noreen. She’d lost her job and needed money. I wasn’t about to get into that kind of trap again. She had a prescription for tranquilizers, and I …” He didn’t finish—didn’t have to. The man was a cold-blooded killer.
“As painful as this is for me, I’m going to have to do away with the two of you as well.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jennie struggled to keep the panic out of her voice. “Debra has Annie hidden somewhere without food or water. If you kill her, you may be killing Annie too.”
The agony etched in Dr. Ellison’s features spurred Jennie on. He clearly loved Annie, and she doubted he’d do anything to hurt her. “I …”
“If you really love her,” Jennie went on, “you’ll let the truth come out. She needs to know what happened.”
“I already know, Jennie.”
Jennie’s head snapped around at the sound of Annie’s voice as she entered the room.
“Annie.” Dr. Ellison’s shoulders slumped. He dropped into the chair. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
“I thought you’d been kidnapped.”
“No. I’ve been staying with Debra. I asked her not to tell anyone where I was. But I decided it was time to go home. Mom and Dad were gone, so I came here.” She walked toward her grandfather. “If you have to shoot someone, then let it be me. I won’t let you hurt Debra and Jennie.”
He lowered the gun, dropping it to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I never meant to hurt you or Debra.” He lowered his head to his knees and sobbed.
Jennie shoved herself out of the chair and carefully picked up the gun by the barrel to avoid smudging the fingerprints, then dialed 9-1-1.
25
Unable to sleep, Jennie tossed aside her covers and dragged her favorite blanket with her to the window seat. A pale quarter moon hung in the dark sky, lighting her way as she stepped over the clothes she’d taken off and dumped there earlier.
Fluffing up the pillows, Jennie lowered herself onto the wide seat and leaned against the wall. She gazed into the heavens, still wondering how someone as nice as Dr. Ellison seemed to be could have made so many wrong choices. He’d started out doing his best to help people but in the process had made a terrible mistake. He’d put his job and his reputation ahead of saving a life. He’d walked away from a live fetus, a baby. Annie.
Four days had passed since the night he was arrested.
Jennie felt a sense of relief that this chapter was over and life would go on. Annie realized now that the Phillipses were her parents and always would be—they had raised her and loved her as their own. But Annie also planned to get to know Debra, her birth mother.
What still troubled Jennie, and would for a long time, was that Dr. Ellison had gotten off far too easily. In his wake he’d left a devastated widow and daughter. He’d had a fatal heart attack on the way to the police station. His case would never go to trial. Fortunately, Jennie’s father had been able to piece things together with her testimony and the evidence he’d found in Dr. Ellison’s office.
On the other hand, as her dad had reminded her the night before, he would be facing the toughest Judge of all, God.
You have to let it go, McGrady, she scolded herself.
“Leave it in God’s hands.” That’s what Gram had told her when Jennie had spoken to her the night before.
Eventually she’d be able to do that. Jennie took a deep breath and turned her mind to more pleasant things.
Rocky was at home and doing better than anyone expected. Jennie planned to visit him and his sister on her way to school. With his sister in a wheelchair, they’d need help until Rocky was on his feet again.
She had completed her science project and would be entering it in the Science Fair next week. On Saturday she’d go to the Fall Festival. She wouldn’t be going with Lisa and Gavin after all. Instead, she’d have her own escort. Ryan was coming!
Jennie smiled as she picked up the gift she’d purchased for him. A model car. A white 1964 Corvette convertible, to be exact. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the real thing.
She chuckled. “It’s the thought that counts.”
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