The urge to snatch the cash and run was overpowering. Carmichael knew he would never give anyone back-to-back cycles of untested hormones. That was insane. He couldn’t just walk away from the cash either. Lord help me, he prayed. There had to be a way.
There was. He could fake the results of the second cycle based on the notes from the first. Akron would never know the difference. As long as everything was all neat and accounted for on paper, the drug maker would be happy.
Carmichael nodded. “You have a deal.”
Akron handed him the cash. Carmichael glanced at it just long enough to make sure it looked right, then slipped the wad into an interior jacket pocket. These trials were not registered with the FDA, and JB Pharma wasn’t reckless enough to leave a paper trail.
He couldn’t bring himself to look Akron in the eye. It wasn’t right to cheat the man. Akron was a heartless asshole, and Carmichael didn’t feel too guilty. “I’ll send the results in a few months.” He stood, feeling his muscles relax for the first time in days.
“Bring them in person.” Akron chuckled softly. “It’ll be nice to see you again.”
Carmichael’s throat was too dry to respond. He nodded, then walked out.
“Asshole.” He said it out loud for the first time on the elevator. The word had been playing in his head like a mantra since leaving Akron’s office. Carmichael promised himself he wouldn’t come back here—ever. Elizabeth would come through with the money she had promised, and he would contact the United Christian Foundation personally to find out why his church had been cut out of the yearly distribution. Everything would work out. He would cut the hormone dosages in half and to hell with Akron. Other fertility specialists might push for big numbers like eight and ten eggs per retrieval, but not him. His success rate was in the high seventies. All he needed were a few extra oocytes each time, so he could be sure to produce at least one female embryo with good metabolic activity for transfer. And, of course, have a few rejects leftover to study.
Out on the street, the rain had stopped and the sun streaked through the clouds in patches. A dim rainbow intersected the Freemont Bridge. Carmichael took it as a good sign. He caught a cab to the airport and headed home.
Three hours later he moved briskly through Eugene’s small airport, thinking it would take him longer to drive to the compound than it had to fly from Seattle. His one piece of luggage, a travel bag, was slung over his shoulder as he hurried to the overnight parking lot and unlocked the church van. Daylight was fading and the sky was heavy with rain. Carmichael made a quick stop at the bank to deposit the cash in the ATM, then headed east on Hwy. 126. He wanted to stop and see Elizabeth about the money she had promised, but his need to be at the compound, to make sure everything was all right with Jenna, was overwhelming.
The feeling that all was not well at the church had nagged him during the flight. His anxiety continued to grow, reaching a state of near panic as Carmichael navigated the winding mountain road in the dark. Wind and rain pounded the van in relentless fury. He pushed the speedometer, taking the corners at reckless speeds. He prayed continuously.
Watch over my congregation, dear Lord. Keep them safe from harm, safe from themselves. Especially Jenna. I know I’ll have to answer for what I’ve done to her, but she’s innocent, Lord. Help her through the hormone treatment, please. Liz needs this baby, and I need to give it to her. After that, I’ll rededicate my life and my clinic to your service only. Please Lord, let Jenna be all right. Please.
Carmichael drove to the back of the compound, parking under the long carport next to Zeke’s truck. From there he scooted in through his secret panel to avoid backtracking through the downpour.
The muted sounds of women chatting, children laughing, and forks clinking on plates were as soothing as any gospel music. He ignored his growling stomach, changed into a clean shirt, and hurried down to the clinic. The exam room and Rachel’s office were both empty.
Carmichael strode back to the small labor room and found it unlocked. A tremor of panic rippled through him. He yanked open the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Jenna was sleeping, her breathing deep and even. She looked even better than he remembered. Thank you, God. Color had returned to her cheeks, and she seemed peaceful. He wanted to check her vital signs but hesitated to wake her. He gently placed two fingers on the inside of her wrist, checked his watch, and counted.
Pulse, fifty-eight. He frowned, puzzled. It seemed quite slow for a woman on fertility hormones. He remembered Rachel saying Jenna looked like an athlete. An image of Rachel bathing Jenna flashed in his memory. He reached out and pushed Jenna’s blanket aside. The sight of her thick, peach-colored thighs gave him an erection.
Ashamed, he stepped back. Where the hell was Rachel? Why was Jenna’s door unlocked? Carmichael retrieved his radio communicator from the office and buzzed Zeke. “Find Rachel and both of you get down to the clinic immediately.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Carmichael felt sick when he heard the account of Sarah’s trauma. “Don’t tell me you lost her.”
“Oh, no.” Rachel shook her head. “I took her to North McKenzie Hospital. She’s fine now.” Rachel twisted her hands as she rushed to explain. “I wanted to stay in town with her, but I figured I should be here since you were gone and no one else has any medical training.” Rachel’s expression begged him to understand that she’d done her best.
Carmichael fought to stay calm. It’s not as bad as it could be, he reminded himself. “So Sarah is a patient at North McKenzie right now?”
“Yes.”
Zeke, who had remained expressionless during the exchange, said casually, “I told her not to go, but you know how pigheaded she is.”
Carmichael gave him a chilly stare. It didn’t matter who said what. They had to get Sarah out of the hospital before some doctor discovered the hormone in her system and started asking questions. The truth was, it was probably too late to prevent the questions, but maybe not too late to keep Sarah from answering. “Get her back. Leave now. Do not answer any questions from the hospital staff. Is that clear?”
Rachel’s lips were pressed so tightly they disappeared. “Is it the hormone shot?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Just go get her.”
Rachel jumped up and started for the door. Suddenly she turned back. “Jenna went into convulsions too. A few hours before Sarah.”
“She was faking it!” Zeke slapped the desk in anger.
“No, she wasn’t.” Rachel turned back to Carmichael. “Are you giving Jenna hormones?”
“No!”
Stunned, Carmichael turned away to collect himself. Jenna had gone into convulsions? Thank God Rachel hadn’t taken her to the hospital. What if she had died? The thought frightened him in a very personal way. What was God trying to tell him? He’d been gone twenty-four hours, and all hell had broken loose. He straightened his posture and turned back.
Rachel looked as if she were going to cry again. Carmichael felt bad for shouting at her. None of it was her fault. Still, he didn’t want her thinking too seriously about Jenna’s medical treatment. He softened his voice. “You did great, Rachel. Now please go get Sarah. Take someone with you if you like.”
“Should I go?” Zeke asked.
“No, I need you here.”
Neither he, nor Zeke, would leave the compound until the embryo transfer had been completed, Carmichael decided. The last experimental hormone he’d received from JB Pharma was obviously deteriorating and becoming a serious risk. He wondered if he should start Jenna on the new hormone. Or lower her dose of clomophergonal. Jenna had seemed fine when he looked in on her. She only had to take it for a few more days. He would have to trust the Lord to get them all through.
Chapter 23
Saturday, Nov. 4, 8:46 a.m.
Elizabeth pulled into Dutch Brothers and ordered a double Americana. It was more coffee than she usually drank, but she hadn’t slept well in days and her body ached with exhaustion. Last night had been the worst. Her hand
s trembled as she reached through the window for the hot container. The young man in the little booth said something perky, but Elizabeth was already rolling up the window. She had no tolerance for irrelevant people today. Her head hurt too badly.
Her first night of sleeplessness had been from excitement, generated by the discovery that Jenna was not just a sister, but a fraternal twin. On a technical level, they were no more genetically similar that any other two siblings, but the idea excited her just the same. Elizabeth had started to think of Jenna as family. She had started to think that in a few years it would be safe to contact her and establish a relationship.
Her euphoria hadn’t lasted long. The next evening, that reporter had walked right up to her in the hospital and asked about the disappearance of Jenna McClure. Elizabeth had been so frightened she’d gone completely blank, experiencing her first mental void since childhood. Then she’d overreacted in a verbal barrage that made her look psychotic. Later, after learning he was a reporter, she’d rushed to a bathroom and thrown up. Worried sick and disgusted with the way she’d handled things, Elizabeth hadn’t slept much that night either.
She knew it was foolish to be upset. There was nothing to worry about. Jenna was just one of hundreds of women she’d counseled at ARC, and there was no other connection between them. Why the reporter had decided to question her was baffling. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Had Jenna suspected something about the blood test results and talked to a reporter? Or was Eric Troutman somehow connected to McClure, a boyfriend or brother grasping at straws, desperate to find the woman?
Elizabeth lit a cigarette before pulling into the street. It was her fourth already that day but she didn’t care. She was too upset to stay home and too distracted to take on the adoption agency. She eased onto the freeway and headed toward the compound. David would sooth her nerves, convince her everything would turn out fine.
Elizabeth swallowed three Excedrin with a gulp of hot coffee. She’d been taking Luprexia for the last five days to prime her uterus for the transfer, and the blinding headaches and nervous irritability were probably side effects. She would feel better when David examined her and reassured her that the problems were only physical and temporary. She also desperately needed to hear David say that Jenna’s short-term memory was seriously impaired and their activities would never be found out. As long as the police were not involved, she consoled herself, they had nothing to worry about. Eric Troutman was just a lovesick reporter who would not be allowed back in the hospital.
Elizabeth lit another cigarette from the one she was smoking and moved into the passing lane.
At first sight of the breathtakingly beautiful canyon, Elizabeth understood the pull that brought people here. The compound itself was too austere, too cold for her to be comfortable in for any length of time. She had grown up with a canopy bed, a walk-in closet full of clothes, and a cleaning lady to pick up after her. Elizabeth would have traded all of it for two loving parents, but she’d never had a choice and couldn’t change who she was.
She was greeted in the yard by two young girls who seemed excited to have a visitor. “Welcome to the Church of the Reborn. Reverend Carmichael says you’re to come wait in his office.” The blonde girl of twelve tried not to giggle.
“Thank you, I know the way.” Elizabeth started toward the chapel and the girls followed. Their happy, giggling noises made her angry with David for filling their minds with religious nonsense that would make them weak and complacent. She was also painfully jealous—of their youth, their innocence, and the security they had here at the compound, where they would never be molested or degraded by men. Most of all, they had David. Seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year.
Elizabeth scoffed at her own ridiculousness. She knew she couldn’t handle a full-time relationship. Her short-lived marriage had proved it. She froze mid-stride. What if she felt that way about her baby? What if she couldn’t handle being a mother twenty-four hours a day?
“Are you all right?” The girls had stopped in front of David’s office.
“Of course. I just remembered something important. You know how it is.”
They giggled and opened the door. Elizabeth hurried through.
Minutes later, David burst into the room at his usual breakneck pace. “Liz, what’s wrong? It’s so unlike you to show up like this.”
She stood and stepped toward him, hoping he would embrace her. David sensed her need and put his arms around her. Elizabeth held on to him, gaining strength from his vitality. After a few minutes, he stepped back to look at her but continued to hold both her hands.
“Tell me what’s going on, Liz.” David led her to a small, ratty-looking couch. Elizabeth was glad she’d worn a pair of inexpensive pants.
“I’ll start with the good news. McClure and I are fraternal twins.”
David’s eyes narrowed with disbelief.
“It’s true. First, I talked with her mother who told me she was adopted. Then I called–”
“Wait a minute.” David pulled away. “You called her mother? Why in the name of God did you do that?”
“Don’t swear at me.” Elizabeth raised her voice as well. “You know I’ve always wanted to find my real mother. I didn’t give her my name, of course. I just told her I was researching cystic fibrosis and needed a family history.”
David’s face softened. “I know finding your mother is important to you, but everything is different now. You have to be careful. You have to wait until this is all over before you start digging around in Jenna’s past.”
Elizabeth was silent. His reaction was disappointing. She’d expected David to be happy for her.
“What is the news about twins? Tell me everything, Liz.”
She wasn’t sure she should tell him about her phone call to Daniel Potter, then she plunged ahead anyway. “Mrs. McClure told me the name of the adoption lawyer, so I called him. He told me there were two babies and that one had been adopted by a couple from Chicago. That’s all I know.”
David’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s confidential information. Why did he tell you?”
A smile flickered on her face before she could stop it. “I told him I was Jenna McClure.”
David jumped like he’d been bitten on the butt.
“What are you trying to do? Get us all put in jail?” He looked around nervously, apparently startled by the loudness of his voice. David plopped back on the couch and growled in Elizabeth’s ear. “If I had known you were going to selfishly pursue this obsession with finding your mother while I have your sister held captive in my church, I would have never agreed to help you. I can’t believe the risk you took.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.” Elizabeth sounded more confident than she felt. David’s criticism hurt, but she would never let him know. “Potter, the adoption lawyer, lives in Astoria and is probably a hundred years old. He’ll never even know McClure was missing. And so what if he does?”
“It’s risky, and I don’t like it. Promise me you’ll let it go.” David leaned toward her, his face inches away. “I mean it, Liz. Promise me right now that you will not contact anyone else associated with Jenna.”
For a second she hated him. For knowing her so well, for needing to be in control all the time. Still, he was right. “Okay, I’ll let it go.”
David moved back, apparently still angry with her. She knew she should tell him about the reporter in the hospital, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Finally, Elizabeth said, “I want to see her.”
“For the love of God, no.” David gawked, openmouthed.
“Why not?”
“It’s risky. The Versed might not be totally effective. After we let Jenna go, she’ll never see me again. If she goes back to the ARC and sees you, it might trigger her memory.” David shook his head. “It’ll be risky enough during the transfer.”
Elizabeth was disappointed but not surprised. “How is she holding up?”
“Good.” He shrugged. “She’s very healthy
.”
Great news. Elizabeth couldn’t bear the thought of Jenna becoming ill or hurt because of her. “When will she be ready?”
“Sometime in the next forty-eight hours.”
“That soon?” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “It’s all happening so fast. I get scared sometimes about what kind of mother I’ll be. Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”
“Of course. Where are you in your cycle? Are you producing heavy mucus?”
“I’m not sure. You know how screwed up my system is. The Luprexia should be working. In fact, I think–”
David cut in. “We can’t rely on guesswork. You, of all people, should know that.” He began to pace. “Embryo donation from one woman to another is a very delicate process. At the moment of transfer, your endometrium has to be in the exact same developmental stage as if you’d produced the egg yourself.” He whirled to face her. “The timing is critical!”
Elizabeth chewed the inside of her cheek. She hated to be lectured, and David knew it. He’d never been so careless with her feelings before. It wasn’t like him. She assumed it was the stress of the situation. She didn’t feel much like herself either.
David kept pacing and talking. “We need to check your estrogen level today while you’re here, compare it to Jenna’s, and adjust your Luprexia dosage accordingly. You need to check it again in the morning, then again tomorrow night. This is very important, Liz.”
“I know it is, David. This is my life we’re talking about, my baby. Which reminds me. I’ve been having horrible headaches and not sleeping well. Do you think it could be the Luprexia?”
“Of course it’s the Luprexia! All fertility drugs have side effects—hot flashes, mood swings, cardiac acceleration. It’s menopause and PMS all rolled into one. Haven’t you ever talked to any of the women who come into the clinic? Or do you just slide the tissue under a microscope and never think about the people it came from?”
“Why are you being so cruel?”
“I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress.”
The Baby Thief Page 18
