“I never gossip about work,” his mother assured him. “We’ve decided you’re a financial consultant. What do you think?”
“It will certainly seem natural when I ask about confidentiality,” Kevin said.
Heloise printed out the profiles they’d devised. “What are you going to do if they ask for social security numbers?”
“At our first consultation? Refuse, of course,” Kevin answered. “As a financial consultant, I believe in reserving that information until absolutely necessary.”
“Speaking of consultations,” his mother said, “let me see if I can make you an appointment today. It’s possible they won’t have an opening.”
Kevin’s expression darkened. “They have to have an opening. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“I’ll call,” Alli offered. “I can be charming when I want to.”
A cleft flashed in his cheek, emphasizing the fact that he’d shaved this morning. “And you’re modest, too.”
“I’m not bragging,” she assured him. “It’s vital to my profession.”
“Really?” Kevin said. “I’ve known a lot of reporters I wouldn’t call charming.”
“They’re probably not very effective,” Alli retorted.
Heloise handed her the phone. “Go for it.” Catching her son’s quelling look, she added, “If the boss agrees.”
“It can’t hurt to let her try,” he conceded.
Alli looked up the number and dialed. The receptionist answered with a cheery, “Dr. Graybar’s office.”
After listening to her explanation, the woman said regretfully that they had no appointments available for at least a month. “There’s incredible demand, as you can imagine, and we spend a great deal of time with each of our clients.”
“I’m sure you do. The Reverend Weatherby told me Dr. Graybar has a heart of gold!” With a catch in her voice, Alli poured out a heartfelt story of weeping at night because of her desperate longing for a child, and how the pastor had lit the flame of hope the day before.
“Today’s my husband’s birthday.” What was one more lie among so many? she wondered. “He never complains, but I can tell he’s down in the dumps. It would be such a wonderful birthday present if I could give him the hope that we’re finally on our way to adopting. I wish I’d learned about you sooner, but I felt yesterday that the timing wasn’t a coincidence. Some things were simply meant to be.”
Listening, Heloise gave her an admiring thumbs-up. Kevin shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ll see what I can do. Could you excuse me a minute? I have to catch the other line.” The receptionist put her on hold.
“Well?” Kevin asked. “Are you going to bake me a cake for my imaginary birthday?”
“Darling! I’ll go it one better. I’m going to give you a child!” Alli joked.
The receptionist came back on the line. “I don’t believe this! That call was to cancel an appointment at four o’clock this afternoon. Could you and your husband make it in then?”
“You bet. See you at four.” After completing the arrangements, Alli hung up and filled in her audience.
“You’re scary,” Kevin said. “You fib like a pro, and you think on your feet.”
“Reporters have to do that,” his mother advised. “They’re always going undercover, right?”
“Actually not,” Alli said. “Normally, I’m up front with people.”
“You don’t badger them about ‘the public’s right to know?’” Kevin teased.
She sniffed. “I never use that cliché.”
“You manage to be pushy enough without it,” he said. After explaining to Heloise that they’d met when he worked at the PD, he added, “I respected the way you did your job, but I used to think you were a royal pain.”
“What a coincidence,” Alli replied sweetly. “That’s what I always said about you.”
Kevin glanced at his watch. “I’ve got work to do. Why don’t we meet after lunch to rehearse our aliases.”
“Okay.”
He vanished into his inner sanctum. While Heloise tackled paperwork, Alli picked up a copy of the morning paper folded on the secretary’s desk. She hadn’t had time to scan it at Kevin’s.
A photograph of Payne Jacobson leaped out from page one. Drive-by Shooting Wounds Reporter, read the headline.
Despite her dislike of Payne, Alli felt a twist of concern. On closer inspection, however, the damage didn’t look bad.
A bandage wrapped around one arm, Payne posed beside the smashed rear windshield of his car. One eye had taken on a discolored pouchiness, presumably where she’d punched him two days ago. This seemed to be his week to take it in the chops, Alli thought.
According to the article, Payne had been backing out of the driveway at his uncle’s house—she hadn’t realized until now that he lived with Ned—when he’d heard a crack. A moment later, he’d experienced a stinging sensation along his arm and noticed a trickle of blood.
Not until he got out to inspect the damage had he found the bullet hole in the glass. The article went on to explain that the police were investigating reports of a gray or blue van sighted in the area at the time of the shooting.
“My fearless pursuit of the truth must have offended some slime bag,” Payne was quoted as saying. “From now on, I’ll be staying with friends and taking other routes to work. So whoever did this can go crawl back into a hole.”
Alli was sorry he’d been hurt. Still, what an irony that the exposé had most likely triggered the attack. Had he not stolen it she might have been the target.
When Kevin emerged from his office, she handed him the section. While he read the article, she reflected that that hadn’t merely been a warning shot. Payne could have been killed. Or she could have, and the danger hadn’t necessarily disappeared just because they’d turned their sights elsewhere.
She needed to stay hidden for at least a few more days. She couldn’t mention it in front of his mother, though, since Heloise didn’t know about their rooming arrangement.
Besides, she’d already decided that pressuring Kevin generally backfired. Tonight, if he didn’t change his mind, she’d have to find somewhere else to camp out.
He finished the article. “That series is a hot potato.”
“Well, it’s Payne’s hot potato now,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go work on my new article.” Sensitive to Heloise’s presence, she avoided specifying that she was returning to his place. She even wrote down her cell-phone number for the secretary.
“When will you be back?” Kevin asked.
“Around two. That should give us a chance to practice.”
He frowned. “There’s no guarantee those guys won’t take a shot at you, too.”
“I’m on foot at the moment,” she noted. “This is southern California. They’ll never think to look for me on a sidewalk.”
Kevin’s gaze darkened. Before he could offer to do something needlessly protective, such as offer to drive her, she called out, “See you!” and hurried off.
A brisk walk carried her the half mile or so to his house, where she used the key she’d borrowed earlier, punched in the security code and fired up Kevin’s laptop. On the Web, the report of the injured reporter had received extensive coverage, along with the fact that he’d been writing about Mayor Le-Mott. Klaus would really hate that, she thought in satisfaction.
Her good mood faded as she considered that Payne was gaining recognition as a crusading hero journalist. The guy had incredible luck. She wondered whether he sacrificed small animals to pagan gods.
Grimly, she made another search for job openings and printed out the few possibilities. Feeling a bit down, she grabbed a bite to eat and walked back to meet Kevin for their practice session.
With Heloise’s help, they reviewed their fictional background and decided what information they should try to pry from Ms. Reed. Finally, the time came to leave.
“Well, Mrs. McKinley?” Kevin said. “Ready to go sea
rch out the child of our dreams?”
She slipped her arm through his. “Sweetheart, I’m going to make you the happiest man on earth.”
Heloise made a gagging noise at the computer. But she was smiling.
Chapter Nine
Two pregnant women were skimming magazines in the waiting room as Kevin held the door for Alli. He registered the trendy color scheme and a hand-painted mural of babies at play.
Although he knew the place hid dark secrets, he was glad to take Alli inside. The news about Payne being shot troubled him. He respected her courage in refusing to cower; still, on the short drive to Graybar’s office, he’d checked his mirrors frequently as a precaution.
They hadn’t been followed. Kevin knew enough to spot all but the most expert surveillance.
They signed in at the reception desk. He wished he could have brought some work with him. However, he hadn’t wanted to display anything that might give away his true occupation.
As it turned out, they didn’t have a long wait. About five minutes later, a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mr. and Mrs. McKinley? Ms. Reed will see you now.”
Inside, the hallway forked. To the right lay a gray-carpeted corridor flanked by what appeared to be examination rooms.
The left branch might have belonged in a different building. A patterned, light-colored carpet led past a couple of plush offices to a conference room supplied with a coffee-maker and comfortable seats around a table.
The walls featured newspaper clippings about the orphanage in Costa Buena. There were also several framed photographs of Dr. Graybar, whom Kevin recognized from an online picture. The man had an intelligent face topped by thick black hair silvering at the temples.
A well-dressed, fortyish woman joined them almost immediately. “Hi, I’m Binnie Reed,” she said, shaking hands. “Dr. Graybar’s seeing patients, but he’ll meet you later. In the meantime, let’s go over some facts to help me understand how we can help you.”
“Oh, thank you!” Alli gushed. “We’re thrilled to be here. Did the receptionist mention it’s my husband’s birthday?”
“Congratulations.” The counselor gave them a perfunctory smile. “Would you like some coffee? No? Well, let’s talk about Kevin and Allison McKinley and how to make your family complete.”
She requested their medical history, which Alli described to her apparent satisfaction. Binnie also asked if they’d considered counseling to deal with the trauma of being unable to have their own genetic offspring. Alli sidestepped that one with a mention of the pastor and his excellent counseling skills.
Ms. Reed described the home study required of all adoptive parents. “These kids deserve stable, loving homes,” she told them. “I’m happy to say that our children have done wonderfully.”
“How many have you placed?” Alli inquired.
Kevin, too, wanted very much to find out how many families might be vulnerable to a shakedown. The only answer they received, however, was, “We’ve been making matches for about six years. The demand keeps increasing, but I can’t give you an exact count.”
There had to be hundreds, he thought. “Can you give us an idea of the costs involved?”
“That depends on several factors.” She cited the need to visit Central America, the necessity of hiring an attorney and the payment to the orphanage. “Most of our clients find their expenses range between ten and twenty thousand dollars,” she concluded.
That was enough to have tapped out many people’s life savings, perhaps even put them into debt. How could the blackmailer believe these parents had another twenty thousand lying around? Probably he figured if he squeezed hard enough, they’d cough it up somehow. And he might be right.
Kevin wondered how much Binnie knew about what was going on. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility that she might be the blackmailer. Since the caller used a voice scrambler, the perpetrator could be a woman as easily as a man.
“Would you like to see pictures of our kids?” When they nodded, the counselor produced a photo album from a desk drawer.
Shot after shot showed adorable infants, toddlers and young children laughing at the camera and playing with their new parents. Joy radiated from them. Even Alli seemed to soften.
As he examined the images, Kevin realized that he’d always taken for granted the ability to have children if and when he was ready. Like Tara and Ralph, these parents had probably made the same assumption, then endured stages of disbelief and desperation when they discovered they couldn’t reproduce the old-fashioned way. Or the new-fashioned way, either, since for them fertility treatments apparently hadn’t worked.
What if he and Alli weren’t pretending? What if the only way he could ever become a parent was through this agency?
For the first time, he truly identified with Mary Conners. That made him even angrier at whoever had threatened her.
“That woman looks familiar.” Alli indicated one of the mothers. “Isn’t she Vice-Mayor Rodale’s daughter?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to identify individuals,” Binnie replied.
That seemed like a good opening to raise their questions about privacy. “I presume you have permission to show these people’s photos, don’t you?” Kevin said. “As a financial consultant, I’m very concerned about confidentiality.”
“Yes, certainly. We guard our records closely,” she told him.
“Who would have access to them?” Alli put in.
“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” Binnie didn’t seem disturbed, Kevin noted. “In Costa Buena, I presume the orphanage discloses its records to local authorities.”
“And on this end?” he prompted.
“We don’t release our records to anyone unless we’re required to by law,” she said. “For adoption purposes, we may give information to immigration authorities and the courts. But we only display photos like these if the parents agree in advance.”
Kevin decided to take a flier. “What about Dr. Graybar’s business partner? Wouldn’t he have access?”
“He doesn’t have a partner since Dr. Abernathy retired,” she explained. “However, as you seem concerned, maybe you should speak directly with the doctor.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Let me go see if he’s available.” Leaving the album on the desk, Binnie exited.
Kevin waited a beat to make sure she wouldn’t overhear. “Is there some special significance to the vice-mayor’s daughter having adopted?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” Rising to her feet, Alli approached one of the framed pictures on the wall. “Did you notice this?”
“That’s Dr. Graybar receiving an award.” At this angle, he couldn’t see the people’s faces very well, although he thought he recognized two city council members.
“The man standing next to him is Mayor LeMott,” she informed him.
He took a closer look at the thin, mustachioed man. “So it is.”
“That’s Cathy Rodale on his other side,” she said. “She was in line to become mayor before LeMott got elected to the council.” She didn’t need to explain that the members rotated that honor among themselves for two-year terms, because Kevin had learned that fact when he’d worked at the police department. “I can’t understand why she stepped aside unless she’d been threatened or talked into some kind of deal. She never shrank from the spotlight before.”
“You’re mixing apples and oranges. I don’t see what LeMott has to do with—” He stopped in midsentence as the connection hit him. “He was involved in loan-sharking.”
“Exactly. If anyone could provide a large sum of money, it’s him.”
The door opened. In came Binnie with a dark-haired man instantly recognizable from his pictures.
Kevin rose to shake hands while the counselor made introductions. The doctor, who stood about an inch taller than him, had a firm grip and regular features arranged in a sympathetic expression. Lines on his forehead revealed an underlying tension.
“I understan
d you have some questions about patient confidentiality,” he said.
“We wondered who would have access to our records and financial data,” Kevin confirmed.
“He was asking whether you have a business partner.” Binnie sounded puzzled. “I didn’t think Dr. Abernathy was involved anymore, but I couldn’t give them a definitive answer.”
“He’s not. If another doctor were to join my practice, he or she would have access to the files, but naturally, I’d screen him or her carefully in advance,” Graybar said. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
Alli indicated the picture. “Congratulations on your award. Are you a good friend of the mayor’s?”
Binnie looked even more confused.
“What is it you two really want to know?” the physician asked.
“We’re interested in adopting,” Alli said brightly. “It seems we’ll be in good company. I recognized the vice-mayor’s daughter among your satisfied customers.”
“You have friends in high places,” Kevin added. “That’s a tribute to your integrity.”
Apparently, their comments failed to reassure him. “I need to see some ID,” Dr. Graybar said.
“I’m sorry? What am I missing here?” asked Ms. Reed.
Kevin saw no purpose in continuing their pretense. Also, he didn’t want to lose the chance to startle their quarry into revealing more than he intended. “We understand the El Centro Orphanage is under investigation for allegations of baby selling,” he said. “Is that true?”
“What?” The counselor stared as if he’d grown two heads.
“There’s been a mix-up regarding record keeping,” Dr. Graybar responded. “I talked to the director of the orphanage last week and he assured me it would all be straightened out soon.”
“I didn’t know that,” Binnie remarked to no one in particular.
“Some of the families have received blackmail demands,” Alli added. “Twenty thousand dollars or they’ll be reported to the authorities and could lose their children. Did you know that?”
Dr. Graybar blanched. Kevin couldn’t tell whether he was registering surprise at the news or shock at being confronted.
The Baby Scheme Page 11
