Peekaboo Baby. Delores Fossen
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far from the truth.
“I’ve already tried to make an appointment. Several times. Your office claimed you were booked solid,” Delaney accused. “And I don’t think it’s my imagination that you’re trying to avoid me. Guess what? It won’t work.”
He didn’t deny the part about avoiding her. Nor did he offer any polite excuse for why he hadn’t responded to the dozen or so frantic messages she’d left with his secretary and answering service. What he did do was look again uneasily around the parking lot.
“This isn’t a good place to talk,” he informed her.
It was a dismissal, one that riled Delaney to the core, and he no doubt would have left it at that if she hadn’t dug her fingers into his arm and held on. “This might not be a good place to talk, but it’ll have to do. Neither of us is leaving until you explain why a representative from a medical watchdog group—Physicians Against Unethical Practices—called me.”
Oh, that stopped him cold.
Dead cold.
Dr. Keyes met her gaze head-on. Gone were the dismissals and the annoyance at her interruption, and Delaney thought she saw some fear.
An emotion she totally understood.
Because she was afraid.
Terrified, really.
For her son.
And for what might have already happened to him.
“This group contacted you?” Dr. Keyes asked.
Delaney nodded and tried to keep her voice level. Hard to do with the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “They implied that the New Hope clinic would soon be under federal investigation for some kind of illegal medical practices. Is that true?”
And Delaney held what was left of her breath. Waiting. Praying. Hoping that Dr. Keyes would deny it or else explain it all away.
That didn’t happen.
“What did you tell them?” the doctor demanded, and there was no doubt that his question was a demand. His wiry jaw turned to iron.
“Nothing. Because I don’t know anything to tell.” She paused a heartbeat. “But it’s my guess that you do.”
He shrugged, not exactly the declaration of innocence.
Delaney stepped closer, and she was sure her jaw muscles were steely, as well. She also made sure some of that steel crept into her eyes. “Let’s take a little trip down memory lane here. Fifteen months ago I came to New Hope when I found out I was infertile. I desperately wanted a baby, and you arranged for a donor embryo. It worked on the first try. I got pregnant, and I delivered my son four months ago.”
Because she had no choice, Delaney paused to gather her breath and her courage. Because what she had to say would take every ounce of courage that she could marshal. “Now, I’ve learned that the clinic might have done something illegal to the embryo that became my son. Maybe some cellular experiments. DNA manipulation—whatever. Something that could perhaps make him sick…or worse.”
No amount of strength could have stopped the tears that sprang to her eyes. Hot tears that burned against the cool rain speckling her lashes. Delaney fought the tears, and lost. The fear and dread were overwhelming.
Dr. Keyes or someone else at the clinic might have used her son as a guinea pig, and those experiments might have irreversible long-term effects.
“I have to think about this,” Dr. Keyes said. He gestured toward his car. “I’ll be in touch.”
Delaney caught the front of his jacket and wadded up the fabric so she had a firm grip. “You’ll tell me what you know now,” she said through clenched teeth. “Did you do something to my son?”
He mumbled something under his breath. Cursed. And looked as if he would prefer to be in the deepest pit of hell rather than talking to her.
Seconds crawled by, with the rain pelting them, and Delaney wasn’t sure the doctor would even answer her. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t. Still, she was desperate, and she’d use that desperation to get him to talk.
“Any idea if the watchdog group contacted Ryan McCall as well?” Dr. Keyes asked.
The question caused her stomach to land in the vicinity of her knees.
Of all the things she’d anticipated the doctor might say, that wasn’t one of them.
“Ryan McCall?” Delaney managed to repeat. Not easily though. The man’s name always seemed to stick like wet clay in her throat. “Why would they contact him about illegal medical practices at the New Hope clinic? He has nothing to do with any of this.”
Judging from the panicky stare that Dr. Keyes gave her, and from his suddenly wobbling Adam’s apple, he thought differently.
Well, he was wrong.
He had to be.
Her old nemesis, Ryan McCall, had no connection to her son. None. McCall was a different part of her past. A past she dearly wanted to forget. Of course, forgetting wasn’t entirely possible. Every time she heard her father’s accusing voice and saw his scarred wrists, she got a harsh reminder that Ryan McCall, one of the most affluent and ruthless businessmen in the state, had tried to destroy her family.
And in many ways, he’d succeeded.
Heck, he was still succeeding.
“Look,” Dr. Keyes grumbled. “Let’s get in my car. It’s probably not a good idea for us to stand out here discussing this. The watchdog group employs P.I.s. They could have followed you.”
Delaney stayed put. “Answers,” she demanded. “Now. And quit stalling.”
His suddenly intense, almost angry stare drilled into her. “You’re really going to wish you’d sat down for this,” Keyes warned, his voice now a dangerous growl.
Delaney wasn’t immune to the warning and that stare. Even though she hadn’t thought it possible, it sent her adrenaline soaring even higher than it already was. Still, she didn’t back down. She couldn’t. No matter how painful this was, she had to learn the truth.
“Start talking,” Delaney countered, trying to show strength that she in no way felt. Her legs were shaking so hard she was afraid she might lose her balance. “Because if you don’t, I’m going straight to the police. I’ll demand a full investigation, and I’ll tell them to start that investigation with you.”
He stared at her. “And if I tell you what you think you want to know?”
“Then, it ends here.”
She hoped.
Mercy, it had to end here.
Dr. Keyes gave a curt, brace-yourself nod. “I believe an embryologist who used to work at the clinic might have done some experimental research on asexually replicated cells.”
Delaney mentally repeated that. She understood the individual words, but the term, asexually replicated cells, meant nothing to her. “Try that again in English.”
He opened his mouth and closed it, as if rethinking what he was about to say. Then he shook his head. “The embryologist, William Spears, died about three weeks ago. His records are apparently missing now, and I only got a glimpse of them beforehand, so I’m not exactly sure what he did. I’m not even sure if the embryo you were given was part of his research. In fact, I’m not sure of anything. I only learned what he’d done after he was dead—and that means I’m innocent of any charges this watchdog group might bring against the clinic.”
Using the grip she still had on his jacket, Delaney hauled him closer. “Frankly, I don’t care what part you had in this. All I care about is my son. I need to make sure he’s all right, that someone didn’t manipulate or mutate the embryo so that it could end up harming him.”
That