Heather had her hair tied up on top of her head in a messy bun when she came into the kitchen with sleep in her eye. “It’s just this story. I’m so close to breaking it wide open,” I said, knowing my sister was referring to my late night and now my early morning.
Heather joined me at the table and stared like I was crazy.
“Thanks for watching Mason.”
“No problem. We had fun until I couldn’t pull him away from his video games.” Heather rolled her eyes. “Do you always work this hard or are you really that afraid of losing your job?”
“Both,” I admitted.
“I talked to Mom.”
I closed the lid to my computer, my interest piqued. “Did you tell her about your plans to become a surrogate?”
Heather gave me an annoyed little sister look. “She’s equally worried about you, Sam.”
Of course Heather talked to Mom about me because I was the only one with problems. I rolled my eyes without her noticing.
Heather settled her chin inside her hand and propped her head up. She batted her long lashes at me with that queen bee look of thinking she was always right. “Your job is getting dangerous—”
“It’s always been dangerous,” I said, trying not to sound as annoyed as I felt.
“Journalism isn’t what it used to be.” Heather stared. “And Mom agrees.”
“Which is why it’s more important than ever,” I argued. “You know, I looked up NDRM.”
“Christ, Samantha.” Heather fell back into her chair and groaned. She turned her head and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “You just won’t allow me to make a decision on my own, will you?”
“You should hear what I have to say.”
“Do you not trust I can make this decision by myself?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then tell me, Wise One, what is it?”
“I wasn’t following up because of you. I started looking more into it because of a call that came to Erin.” Heather snapped her lips shut and I proceeded to sum up our visit with the Pattersons.
“And have you confirmed whether or not their suspicions are true? Did a doctor at NDRM use his own seed for Tommy?”
“We’re working on it. But there is another link to the story that has also brought our attention to the same clinic.”
“Care to share what that is?”
“I’d rather not.” I felt the cords in my neck tense. “But who did you talk to there?”
Heather splayed her fingers and looked at her nails. “I don’t recall.”
“Was it Dr. Glenn Wu?”
Heather pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She paused. “Sam, I’ve made my decision.”
I felt my jaw clench, stifling the impulsive reaction I felt bubbling up inside of me.
“I’m not looking to have a child, only to carry one.” Heather stood and paced to the kitchen sink. “I’m not getting any younger, Samantha. I want to have these life experiences.”
“Don’t force it,” I said. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Heather pinched the bridge of her nose and even I rolled my eyes at the cliché. “Look, I’ve given it lots of thought, and I’m not going to do it.”
I blinked. I was stunned before a wide grin spread across my face as the excitement poured through me, leaving me breathless. “That’s great.” I perked up.
Heather shook her head and laughed with me. “I picked up an application for Denver College of Nursing.”
“Excellent,” my proud sister voice sang loud. “You know I’ll support you with whatever you decide.”
“Maybe I’ll even find myself working in the maternity ward one day.” Heather’s eyes beamed. “Anyway, I’ve looked at student loan rates and I have an appointment to meet with a liaison who is going to put me in contact with a recent graduate from the program so I can get a feel for what to expect. You know, to see if this is really something I can take on and if nursing is really meant for me.”
I stood and padded across the floor, giving my sister the supportive hug she deserved.
“I hope I’m not overextending my stay,” Heather said as she latched onto me tight. “I don’t know how long this will take and, as of right now, I don’t have a return flight back east.”
“Of course you’re welcome to say longer.” I looked my sister directly in her eye and smiled. “You can stay for as long as you need.” I pulled back and held her hands. “I like that Mason has another adult in the house he can talk to.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The Guardian Angel’s plans were deteriorating quickly. He could feel the walls closing in around him. Could still hear the knocks on his door as she demanded to be let inside a place only few ever stepped and, even then, by invitation only. But the thing that really kept him on edge was that the woman from last night now knew what kind of car he drove.
His heart pounded steadily—high on adrenaline and fear. He found it impossible to sleep.
The hours slipped by. Only when he was sure it was safe did he finally leave the office. Making a turn at his house, he switched out vehicles—for he had many—and found refuge at the nearby clinic he used for recruiting new patients. There, he remained hidden behind the locked doors, camouflaged by the cover of darkness. Now, only the light from his small desk lamp was on and he planned on keeping it that way.
It was morning, but time was irrelevant when he felt the world turning against him. The chair he was sitting in squeaked when he leaned back, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. He felt his energy fading but there was still work to be done. He needed to stay nearby for Tracey, be present when his baby called. But, with each passing minute, his nerves grew more intense.
Tapping his computer mouse a couple of times, he streamed the local news through his computer once again.
His belly was in knots as he scrubbed a hand over his coarse face. It wasn’t only regret that was keeping him reliving past events, but also his battle with the ignorance he displayed when choosing to neglect everything other than Tracey and the babies.
There was no excuse for Cameron’s survival. Now she was the single most damaging threat to all he had worked to achieve.
“How is this even possible?” he muttered.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he shook his head. Flashes of bright light lit up behind his eyelids. After sending his tech out of the room, he himself had started the IV drip that contained the lethal dose of fentanyl. Did he get this wrong? Where was that bag now? The fentanyl should have put Cameron’s lights out. If that didn’t, the wound from the C-section he’d left open should have done the trick.
His eyelids clicked open. “I can’t let that little whore live.”
The Guardian Angel hunched over his keyboard and replayed the coverage of yesterday’s press conference. He listened to the chief of police’s words, looked for any sort of clues that this was all a hoax to make him believe he was safe. But he couldn’t find any.
The entire squad was outside the house he had dropped Cameron off at only hours earlier.
A sharp smirk curled the corners of his lips.
He was convinced the police believed Tyler Lopez was responsible. He could see it in their smug eyes. But the Guardian Angel was smart enough to know that, soon, everyone would figure out it wasn’t Tyler, but himself.
Would the police’s stupidity buy him enough time to complete his mission? Doubtful, considering it was the Times crime reporter sniffing him out.
His security camera at the office caught her face in a frozen frame. It was the first thing he’d searched as soon as he knew she was gone. A quick facial recognition internet search produced a photo. Samantha Bell. Crime reporter for The Colorado Times. It was a name and face he promised to never forget—a face he promised to keep in his crosshairs for when the time came. Because the time would eventually come.
Springing to his feet, the Guardian Angel stirred the contents inside a cardboard box. The one he kept hidden in the
back of his office; the one he wished he’d gotten rid of earlier.
Digging out Cameron’s phone, he chucked it hard against the floor and stomped it into a couple dozen pieces while grinding his teeth. “You fucking did this. You told that bitch reporter about me and now everything is ruined!”
He dug the sharp part of his heel into the floor. The plastic and metal casing crushed beneath his weight. Then he picked up the pieces of the broken plastic and electronics, tossed it back into the cardboard box, and, with the searing rage still pounding in his chest, marched to the back exit of the clinic with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in his other hand.
Dropping the box into an empty metal trash bin, he emptied the bottle’s contents over the items and put a match to it. It instantly went up in flames, burning everything to a crisp. The cell phones. The clothes. The women’s identification cards. Everything—all incinerated.
He stood there alone watching the flames die, planning his next move. He knew it was time to begin getting rid of every single piece of incriminating evidence that could possibly be traced back to him. They were coming for him and wouldn’t stop until they found who was responsible for both Cameron and Kate.
You need to do something about Cameron, the voice inside his head told him.
Cameron knew his face, knew his voice, knew the location of his clinic. It was a triple whammy just asking for trouble. But what was he to do? How could he get rid of her? Cameron was certainly being watched by the cops now.
He narrowed his gaze and dug his curled fingers into the palm of his hand, forming a tight fist. He felt his hot blood pulse up his arm and across his chest, flexing his muscles tighter.
He was certain the police were already talking to her, learning about how she was recruited, what he’d done and what he was after. Now, it would only be a matter of time before his secret was revealed and everything was lost for good.
Panic wrapped a lasso around his throat, squeezing the last breath of air from him as he glanced around the empty corner. All this time he’d operated out in the open, taking the risk, hoping it would be enough of a disguise to march forward in his grand scheme to change the way parents decided on what children they would have. But now he didn’t know who he could trust or who was working in nearby offices that knew his routine or, worse, his true identity.
Stomping out the smoldering embers, the Guardian Angel shoveled the heaping mess up and tossed it into a nearby dumpster, knowing today it would get picked up by waste management.
Running back inside, he prepared for his assistant to arrive and the office to open for work. All was quiet now, but soon it would be a different story. How much of that story he wrote himself was entirely decided by the choices he made now.
Back in his office, he pulled drawers open and hurried to forge documents and write fake prescriptions to cover his tracks. It was no longer if the police would come, but when. Suddenly, the front doorbell rang.
He snapped his head toward the front and stared at the clock. It was too early for his nurse, who wouldn’t ring anyway, so who could it be? With his heart in his throat, his mind raced to form a conclusion. He wasn’t expecting any visitors. He could only assume they were back for him.
Narrowing his eyes, he lowered his brow and prepared for battle.
This time, he wasn’t going to let them get away without giving them a piece of the action.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Are you telling me Dr. Wu used his own sperm?”
Detective John Alvarez’s look of disbelief hid behind squinted eyes. He pinched his bottom lip and had the stunned look of a man who couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
With one hand on the wheel, Alex King flicked his gaze to his partner and said, “What I’m saying is the mother believes she received an embryo that was missing her husband’s half.”
“And she thinks maybe the other half is the doctor’s?”
“She has her suspicions.”
Alvarez squeezed his eyes shut, snapped them open, and shook his head. Turning his attention to the road, he was quiet for a moment before muttering, “Christ. That’s a serious allegation to make.”
King’s brow furrowed. “Apparently the mother went as far as doing her own testing.”
“And?”
“Her kid is only half theirs.”
Alvarez didn’t even want to know how Samantha Bell learned all this. He knew she had her way of digging into the trenches better than any other reporter he knew—sometimes even better than the police department itself—but this was a story to be told if he had ever heard one.
Stroking his chin, Alvarez angled his head back to King and asked, “What is the margin for error for these kinds of treatments?”
“Can’t say for sure,” King put on his blinker and merged into the next lane, “but I would like to think it would be zero. You know how much money couples drop for IVF treatment?”
Alvarez turned his palm to the ceiling and shrugged.
“Tens of thousands of dollars, per try.” They were heading north on I-25, taking the exit at E 58th Ave, and pointing the wheels toward North Denver Reproductive Medicine in Commerce City. “And that doesn’t guarantee an embryo will result in a successful pregnancy. Some couples have to go through the procedure two or three times before anything materializes.”
All night, King had poured through his notes, thought about his conversation with Sam, and anticipated his meeting with Dr. Glenn Wu this morning. To say he was excited to tackle this lead was a massive understatement. In a matter of hours, Dr. Wu had become his obsession. King was determined to know whether or not he had something to do with Tracey’s disappearance.
“The reason I’m mentioning all of this,” King continued, “is because the Pattersons were receiving their treatment at NDRM at the same time Wu told Keith Brown he was dismantling his research.”
“So, say he’s here—” Alvarez pointed out the front windshield. “Where do you want to start?”
King was quiet for a minute as he considered his approach. He had a few ideas for questioning, and each of them would set an entirely different tone. Flicking his gaze to Alvarez, he asked, “You take a look at that email I sent you?”
Alvarez raised a single brow. “About the biotech conference in Boulder?”
“That’s the one.” King pointed to the NDRM sign and took the next turn.
“Are you saying you want to start there?”
Weaving his way through the mostly empty parking lot, King applied the brakes and pulled into an empty parking space near the clinic’s entrance. “No, I just want you to pay attention to how he reacts when I ask him about it.”
The men swung their doors open, stood, and tugged on their jackets as they glanced around. The air was dry and the hum from the nearby street filled the air. Commuters were heading into work and King hoped Dr. Wu would be doing the same.
Stepping up to the front door, Alvarez pointed to the hours. “We’re a few minutes early.”
King tried the door. Locked.
Alvarez jabbed the doorbell with his stubby finger anyway.
“Hello, I’m coming,” a woman’s voice called out from behind them.
The sound of keys jangling got the detectives to turn. A woman dressed in scrubs approached with the unmistakable morning hustle of an employee running a bit behind schedule.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, balancing a coffee cup in one hand and a tote looped over the forearm of the other.
King shared a quick look with his partner. “Can I help free your hands?” King asked the woman.
She handed him her coffee and smiled. “Car trouble.” She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for me my neighbor was able to give me a jump.”
The woman fumbled with the thick set of keys just as someone inside appeared out of nowhere. He unlocked and opened up, leaving a look of surprise stamped on King’s face.
King stared at the man intently. He was well dressed, a pressed blue collared shirt and red tie, but
his hair was all over the place. He appeared to be somewhat disheveled in his actions.
“Good morning. Good morning,” the nameless man greeted everyone, welcoming them inside. “I guess I forgot to unlock the door after opening it.”
“Not a problem.” Alvarez followed King inside.
“I’m just heading out,” the man said. “Johanna will get you checked in.”
King handed the coffee back to Johanna, stepped forward, and held one finger up in the air. “Actually, we’re here to speak with a Dr. Glenn Wu; is that you?”
The doctor pulled back and volleyed his round eyes back and forth between the detectives. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Dr. Wu.” King introduced himself and Alvarez. The crease between Wu’s brows deepened with visible confusion. “Can I ask what this is about?”
King glanced to Johanna. “Is there someplace more private we could talk?”
Dr. Wu inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils and sighed as he flicked his wrist and glanced at the time. “I have an appointment with a patient at Presbyterian St. Luke's Medical Center which I really should be leaving for.”
“This shouldn’t take long.” King took a step forward, not about to let Wu squeeze his way out of this.
Alvarez nodded, tucked his padfolio beneath one arm, and buried his hand in his pants pockets. “We just want to ask you a couple of questions.”
Dr. Wu rubbed his nape and asked, “About what, detectives?”
“Fine. We can do this here,” King said.
Johanna paused and looked up from behind the front desk. Dr. Wu felt the air still and glared at her before waving his hand at the men, asking them to follow him to the back.
Together, they glided through the front lobby and headed down a back hallway. The air was stale and sterilized, the quiet sounds of a doctor’s office that King never did appreciate. Rounding the corner, the three men entered a small office with a nice large window spilling the morning sunlight over Wu’s expensive mahogany desk.
King took a moment to glance around the room. There were journals and books on neatly organized wall shelves next to professional certificates and licenses that could only be explained as something to feed a professional man’s ego.
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