The Switch

by Sandra Brown

  "Okay now?" he asked.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be," he said, smiling crookedly. "If it's any comfort to you, I feel like pitching a billy fit, too."

  But he hadn't, and she had, and that's probably why he flew rockets and she had no desire to command a crew of astronauts. Candace Anderson's story had brought her emotions to the surface. Learning of Linda Croft's murder had inflamed them. Never had she experienced such a roiling combination of rage and despair, heightened by her own sense of uselessness. She only wished she knew to what or to whom to direct this all-consuming anger.

  She scrubbed her face with her hands in an attempt to eliminate any vestiges of her uncharacteristic outburst. She smoothed back her hair. Fully composed, she said, "Chief, I want to know why this happened to Gillian. I want to know why the Andersons' baby was taken. I want to know who is behind it."

  "The clinic."

  "To what end? Their service is based on helping women and making babies. Besides, Tobias told me that not all the clinics connected to the crimes are part of the Waters chain. The commonality seems to be the patients, not the institutions."

  "The commonality is artificial insemination."

  "Like Gillian."

  "Like Gillian."

  The name fell like a curtain between them. She wondered if the mention of Gillian's name had anything to do with his removing his hand from her knee. Not that she could dwell on that now. She had much more important things to think about.

  Using her cell phone, she placed a call. It was answered midway into the second ring. "Tobias."

  "Melina Lloyd."

  CHAPTER 26

  The search warrant had been served at the Waters Clinic shortly before closing time. The staff on duty had been requested to stay. Individually they were being questioned by police, Tobias, and Patterson. All seemed to be concerned professionals and law-abiding citizens, including the four doctors on staff and the andrologist who'd been hired the day before to take Dale Gordon's place.

  The nationwide chain of clinics was headquartered in Atlanta. The corporate top brass were flying to Dallas that evening. A search of your premises by a law enforcement agency was a PR problem for any business. When your business was creating human life, the stakes rose dramatically.

  Tobias was overseeing the search when Melina's call came through. He demanded to know where she was.

  "Is Detective Lawson with you?" she asked.

  "Why?"

  "Is he?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell him he should look into the homicide on McCommas Street."

  "What homicide?"

  "He'll know Or somebody in his division will. It's already been on the news. The victim's name was Linda Croft. She was an employee of the Waters Clinic. I spoke with her today." "Jesus," Tobias muttered. "Hold on. Don't hang up." He cupped the mouthpiece and called out to Lawson, who joined

  him from another room of the clinic. "Know anything about a homicide on McCommas Street?"

  "Heard about it."

  "The victim worked here. Melina Lloyd talked to her today."

  He didn't have to spell it out for the detective. "I'll get on it," he said, then did an about-face and left the room.

  Tobias returned to his phone call. "Lawson's on it. Where are you, Ms. Lloyd? Is Colonel Hart still with you?"

  "Take down this address." She reeled off a house number. "Hold on. What is it?"

  "The home address for Tony and Candace Anderson. Remember them? They remember you."

  "The couple whose baby was kidnapped. I questioned them."

  "But you failed to ask if they'd had any unusual visitors at the hospital."

  "Unusual?"

  "Other than the expected family members and close friends, guess who came to the birthing room to see them, bearing gifts and taking pictures of mother and child? Dale Gordon."

  Tobias ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. He couldn't remember if he'd specifically asked the distraught couple about their visitors. Strangers, yes. Have you seen anyone lurking in the hallway? Or outside your room? Has anyone threatened you recently?

  At the time, he hadn't been looking at Gordon or anyone affiliated with the clinic. He'd been trying to establish a pattern in the outbreak of newborn kidnappings, believing the culprits to be part of a baby-selling ring.

  "The Andersons won't be at home," Melina Lloyd told him.

  "They've run for cover, just as I've done, as I should have advised Linda Croft to do, since the authorities seem incapable of protecting the good guys from the bad."

  He let her have that shot for free.

  "However," she continued, "if you dispatch someone to the Andersons' address, you might catch the men who came to my house this morning and the ones who, more than likely, killed Linda Croft. Just a suggestion, of course. I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job, Agent Tobias. But your office called me last night, and this morning I'm running for my life. I talked to Linda Croft, and within hours she gets bludgeoned to death. If this course continues, Tony and Candace Anderson will be next on your list of casualties."

  Tobias didn't let pride stand in his way. He jotted down the address, confirmed it with her, then passed it to a police officer with instructions to send a patrol car over there ASAP.

  "Where are you, Tobias?" Melina Lloyd asked.

  He told her. "We're searching the place, although we can't get into the medical records without a court order, and that's going to take a while. Hopefully tomorrow."

  "What are you looking for specifically?"

  "We're searching the lab."

  "Gordon's area."

  "That's right."

  "What did he do there? Besides some sneak photography through a hole in the wall."

  He hesitated before reluctantly answering, "He prepared the frozen sperm specimens."

  "For insemination."

  "And in vitro. I've asked the doctors to suspend all inseminations using frozen sperm until we can conduct a more thorough investigation."

  "What kind of more thorough investigation?"

  "This particular Waters is a full-service facility. Besides receiving specimens from other sperm banks, they have their own. I want to interrogate every donor."

  "Won't they perceive that as an invasion of privacy?"

  "Probably. But I want to match each specimen catalogued and stored here against a specimen that's obtained in a controlled environment and DNA-tested immediately."

  During the ensuing pause, he knew she was reasoning it through. Finally she said, "In order to determine if every specimen in the bank actually came from the donor specified on the label."

  Evasively he replied, "I can't move this investigation forward until I know what we're dealing with here."

  "In other words, you need to test each specimen to see if sperm labeled Donor XYZ actually came from Donor XYZ and not Donor ABC."

  She was too smart for her own good. Certainly she was too smart for his good, because she'd nailed it on the first try. He had a bad feeling about Dale Gordon, especially after seeing the photographs found hidden in the man's apartment. Since when did a lab technician take such a personal interest in patients? Was he just a pervert who sneaked pictures of naked women? Or did it go beyond that?

  Tobias feared the latter. At least that was the supposition he was acting on until it was proved false. If donor sperm was being switched or substituted at the time of artificial insemination, the unthinkable implications were far-reaching. The possibility of such an atrocity being visited on an unsuspecting woman or couple was horrendous.

  As though reading his thoughts, Melina Lloyd said, "You think the sperm was being switched, don't you?"

  Not wishing to start a public panic, he said, "I don't know" "But it's possible."

  "It's happened before," he admitted reluctantly. "A few years ago a gynecologist—"

  "Populated a whole county with his offspring. He used his sperm in place of partner or donor sperm. I remember. And you think Dal
e Gordon was doing the same thing?"

  "His is the first we'll test.""From the residue on the pajamas."

  "Yes. We'll test that against the specimens stored here."

  "He was in a position to make the substitutions," she observed quietly. "Without anyone knowing or suspecting."

  "Please don't jump to conclusions, Ms. Lloyd. Let me point out that Gordon doesn't fit the profile of an egomaniac who would do such a thing. Just the opposite, in fact. His colleagues here claim that he was a meticulous scientist. Kept excellent records. Resented any intrusion that distracted him from his work.

  "The andrologist who was hired to take over for him says she's never seen a lab so well maintained. According to everyone here, he appeared to be a dedicated scientist who took pride in his work and felt he was edifying humankind by performing such a life-giving service."

  "So did Dr. Frankenstein."

  "This is only one theory I'm playing with," Tobias stressed. "I could be way off base. I admit to being wrong before."

  "But I don't think you are. This exemplary, society-edifying scientist killed my sister, and I am going to know why."

  The statement made him extremely uncomfortable. "Ms. Lloyd, where are you? You're a material witness to several crimes. If you don't come forward with information that could help solve these crimes, you could be charged with obstruction of justice."

  "Yes, someone mentioned that to me."

  "Then you'll— Shit!" he swore. He was talking into a dead phone.

  Melina repeated to Chief the half of the conversation that he hadn't overheard. Her voice quavered when she told him about Gordon. "Jesus. He was switching out sperm?"

  "Tobias hypothesizes several variations of that theme, but basically that's the crux of it."

  "Does that mean that Gillian... Could she have got..."

  Burying her face in her hands, Melina groaned, "Oh, God!" "Are you all right?"

  She shook her head violently and signaled for him to pull over. The car wasn't even at a complete stop before she shoved open the door and stumbled out. By the time he got out on the driver's side and came around, she was vomiting.

  He placed one hand on the back of her neck and supported her forehead with his other palm. She tried to wave him off, but he stood firm. Several more spasms seized her. When the retching stopped, he assisted her to stand upright and backed her into the car fender for additional support.

  "Better?" Gently he brushed a strand of hair off her clammy cheek.

  Keeping her eyes averted, she replied, "Embarrassed."

  "As many times as I've hurled in the simulator? As many times as I've been hurled upon in the simulator? Don't be silly." He removed a handkerchief from his rear pocket and dabbed her lips.

  "Thanks. I think this is a first, vomiting in front of a man." "You had good reason to be sick."

  When she looked up at him, he could see tears sparkling in her eyes. They reflected the headlights of oncoming cars as they whizzed past on the boulevard. "Gillian was so excited, so hopeful for success," she said. "She wanted a baby. Was that so wrong? Was she being punished for something?"

  "Melina." He put his arms around her and hugged her close. "You know that's not the way it works."

  "Then how could something that wonderful and beautiful be contaminated and turned into something that revolting?" "You can't be certain that Gillian—"

  "No, I can't be certain." She shuddered. "I really can't even bear to think that Gordon used his own semen. The thought of it is nauseating."

  He continued holding her, stroking her hair, then finally set her away and helped her into the car. "Where to now?" he asked as he pulled back into traffic.

  "Home." He looked at her with surprise, and she smiled wryly. "That's where I want to go. My bathtub. My bed. My pillow"

  "But you're afraid."

  "I wish I had warned Linda Croft to be. If I had, she might have taken precautions."

  He started driving with no particular destination in mind.

  "I'm sure Lawson or Tobias would provide you with protection."

  "Not an option," she said without hesitation. "If they had me under lock and key, I couldn't maneuver. They would tell me only what they wanted me to know. I'd be powerless. I wouldn't get first crack at—"

  When she broke off, he asked, "At what?"

  "Nothing."

  "At whoever ordered Gillian killed?" When she looked at him directly, words were superfluous. He could read the answer there in her eyes.

  "You don't have to go along, Chief," she said quietly. "I haven't mentioned your name to Tobias. He's guessing you're with me, but I haven't confirmed it."

  "Thanks for that."

  "You're not involved."

  "What are you talking about?" he asked angrily. "I'm involved up to my eyebrows. I wouldn't mind having first crack at the responsible party myself."

  "It could blow up in our faces."

  "I'm willing to take that chance."

  "It could become a big news story that would impact your future and nullify your entire career with NASA."

  "That's what that lawyer told me, too. But he couldn't talk me out of this, and neither can you. If it becomes an issue, I'll just have to deal with it, won't I?"

  "Deal with it," she murmured. "Jem said that to me last night. 'Gillian's dead, Melina. We're just going to have to deal with it.'"

  "You know, the more I hear about that prick, the more I hate him."

  She fished a slip of paper from her purse and palmed her cell phone. "Let's see who Jem calls routinely."

  "While you're doing that, I've got to have something to eat."

  He pulled into a Burger King and got in line for the drive-through.

  "Just a Coke for me, please."

  "With sugar and caffeine?" "Absolutely."

  He ordered a cheeseburger and fries and two large drinks. By the time he'd picked up the food at the window, Melina had called two of the numbers on Hennings's autodial, which had turned out to be the retrieval numbers for his office and home voice mail boxes. After dialing the third sequence of numbers, she clicked off quickly and clutched the phone to her chest. He took a bite of burger. "What?"

  "Gillian's number. I got her recording."

  He was tempted to ask Melina to redial so that he could hear her voice but decided against it. It would have disconcerted him as much as it obviously had her. She stared vacantly into near space for a long moment, then doggedly dialed the next number on the list. Waiting for it to ring, she took a sip of her cold drink.

  When the phone was answered, Chief noticed that she swallowed hard, forcing down the Coke. "Pardon?" she said.

  Quickly she reached across the seat and pressed the phone against his ear so that he could hear the female voice on the other end of the line when she repeated, "You've reached the Temple. Peace and love."

  Decisively Melina depressed the end button.

  Chief said, "That's the name of that preacher's—" "Brother Gabriel."

  "His outfit in New Mexico."

  "The number is on Jem's autodial. He calls it frequently." Chief cranked the ignition key, and the car clattered to life.

  He threw the shift stick into reverse, and the car shot from the parking space. Tires squealed and smoked when he stopped at a trash receptacle only long enough to heave the remainder of his food into it before stamping the accelerator and wheeling the car into the fast flow of traffic.

  "Is Hennings overtly religious?" he asked as he took the entrance ramp onto the tollway.

  "Not at all. He even expressed surprise over the spiritual tone of Gillian's memorial service."

  "I suppose it could be a coincidence that both he and Dale Gordon had an interest in Brother Gabriel's ministry."

  "I don't believe that. If it were a coincidence, Jem would have mentioned it."

  "I don't believe it, either. I'm just thinking out loud."

  "Having the telephone number programmed into his auto-dial indicates more than a passing inter
est. It signifies devotion."

  "What do you know about Hennings?" he asked. "Family?" "His parents are deceased, no brothers or sisters. Some distant cousins living in London."

  "Which could be convenient lies for a man wanting to cover tracks. Where'd he come from originally?"

  "He says Oregon."

  "But you're not sure?"

  "I'm not sure of anything. It's frightening, isn't it? That you can be close to someone and not know them at all." "He would have been your brother-in-law."

  "Never. Sooner or later Gillian would have come to her senses."

  By the time they reached the exit and slowed down to pay the toll, they had concluded that, to some degree, Jem was involved in all of it. The murder. Dale Gordon. The attack on Chief. The men at Melina's house. Linda Croft.

  "He's more than just a sideline participant," Chief said tightly, his lips barely moving. "I think the son of a bitch is a key player."

  "But in what? How does it all fit together?" Melina asked in consternation. “Jem's sterile."

  "Or so he's claimed."

  "What man would claim to be who wasn't? And how does all of this tie in to Brother Gabriel?"

  They had many more questions than answers. They hoped to scare them out of Jem.

  "You're a white-knuckle passenger, Melina," Chief remarked when he was forced to stop for a red light.

  "And you're a maniac behind the wheel."

  "You said to hurry. I hurried. Just wish I'd had my own car."

  "God forbid. For once I'm grateful for the clunker."

  Actually she was glad that Chief was driving. She was a competent driver who had little patience with poky motorists, but she never would have taken the chances that he did. He drove well, but far too fast and with a derring-do that more than once had caused her heart to lurch. But if his driving shaved minutes off the trip, all the better. She was eager to confront Jem.

  "They're on their way here now" Jem was relieved to report this to Mr. Hancock. The last few previous reports hadn't been this positive.

  "You're sure?"

  "They've taken the most direct route from north Dallas. They could be going somewhere else, but it appears that they're on their way to see me."

  He purposefully omitted mentioning Melina and Hart's visit to the Andersons. By the time Joshua and his friend had reached the suburban home, the Andersons had split and a police car was parked out front. An unhappy setback, but not disastrous. The couple would eventually resurface.