Fertile Ground (18 page)

The attorney faced Edmond. “If you look carefully, you’ll note additional staple holes on the inside pages of this document. And the writing on pages one, two, seven, and eight doesn’t seem to have been done by the person who filled in pages three, four, five, and six. Even the numbers have a different slant. Whoever tampered with the documents wanted to save time and redid only those

pages—or the backs of pages—that asked for the date of the application or the applicant’s birth date.”

“May I see those, please?” Fisk took the papers.

His voice was still calm, but he was frowning, and Lisa knew what he was thinking: Matthew was responsible for these forgeries. He’d realized Chelsea’s parents would demand an investigation and discover that their daughter was underage when she donated her eggs. He knew they’d sue the clinic, and Matthew. So he’d altered the documents and fled.

Fisk was poring over the papers. “I don’t see additional staple holes. And the writing on all the pages appears to be the same.” He glanced up at the attorney.

“Perhaps you need new bifocals. Obviously, these aren’t the original papers Chelsea filled out and signed. Given the recent allegations regarding your clinic, I’m not surprised by this blatant evidence of document tampering.” The attorney’s tone was sweetly snide.

Fisk placed the papers inside the folder. “I don’t know that there’s been any tampering. We have only Mrs. Wright’s opinion that the signature was forged, and only yours—hardly expert—that these aren’t the original pages one, two, seven, and eight. None of what I’ve heard or seen constitutes legal proof.”

Fisk was so good; he must be a wonderful poker player. Lisa was grateful that the Wrights and Jean Elliott weren’t looking at her. She was thinking about the forged signatures—of course they were forged; everybody in the room knew it—feeling as though she’d slammed into a wall.

“I intend to provide proof,” the attorney said. “I also intend to subpoena Chelsea’s file and any other relevant files. My clients have a right to know who has their murdered daughter’s eggs. They have a right to their grandchildren.” She rose. “I’d like a photocopy of the signed waiver page and the medical and history profile.”

Fisk nodded. “I have no problem with that.”

“I also want to ensure that no other tampering takes place with this file. I suggest that it be placed in an envelope in my presence and that you and I sign it.”

“I have no problem with that, either. Before we do

that, however, I want the file photocopied in case my staff needs to access the information.”

“As long as I witness the photocopying.”

It was like watching a tennis match. Lisa thought, though she knew that Fisk and the clinic had already lost. She flashed to the cryptic writing on the paper in Matthew’s trash: he’d written “‘forged” signature, she realized, not “forget” signature. This was the potential lawsuit he’d feared. Did that mean he’d committed the forgery or discovered it?

Ten minutes later Chelsea’s file was in a sealed envelope. Across the flap, Fisk, Jean Elliott, Lisa, and Walter Wright had signed their names and the date.

After the Wrights and their attorney left, Edmond removed his bifocals and rubbed his eyes. “You realize it looks highly suspicious that the day after the Wrights inform you they’re hiring an attorney, questions arise as to the authenticity of the signatures in the file and several of the document’s pages.”

She was stung by his innuendo. “I didn’t make any changes.”

“I didn’t think you did.” He sounded terribly tired suddenly, and the skin under his eyes was puffy. “Of course, it’s possible Mrs. Wright lied to invalidate the waiver. But I don’t think she could do it convincingly, do you?”

Lisa shook her head.

“It would be nice if Matthew were here to explain what happened. Although now that they’ve found his car at the airport, you and I both know, don’t we?” His expression was grim. “How could he do this to me. Lisa?” he asked softly. “I built this clinic for him. How could he betray my trust?”

She felt sorry for him. Beneath the anger she heard genuine pain. “Those boys could be lying. They could have hijacked the car and invented the story about the airport.”

Edmond grunted in reply. “The night before Matthew disappeared, he told me he suspected something was going on here. He said he might

have to fire someone. Two weeks ago, when Chelsea came to see him, he checked her file. Maybe he discovered the changes. Maybe that’s what he was referring to.” That would explain why he’d been nervous with Barone. But why hadn’t he told Lisa the truth?

“How interesting that you just remembered this now.” Fisk’s smile was closer to a sneer.

Her face was sunburn-hot. “Matthew made me promise not to tell anyone, including you. He didn’t want you to worry.”

“Is that why he didn’t tell me someone stole twenty thousand dollars from the clinic safe? Ted Cantrell told me. I checked with Selena—she was reluctant to admit that since Matthew’s disappearance, the thefts have stopped. Interesting, isn’t it?”

Lisa stared at him, speechless.

“How do you explain that and the fact that he left his car at the airport and disappeared?”

“Maybe someone set him up,” she said when she found her voice. She didn’t know why she was fighting so hard to deny what everyone else believed. Maybe because she couldn’t admit to herself that her loyalty was misplaced, that Matthew had made a fool of her. The taste in her mouth was bitter.

Edmond shook his head. “Obviously, you’re having a hard time dealing with the truth. Either that, or…” He eyed her for a moment. “If he called anyone, it would be you. If you know where he is, now’s the time to tell me.”

In a cold, flat voice, she said, “He hasn’t called me. And I deeply resent your calling me a liar.” She was shaking with anger and didn’t care what he did. Let him fire her. The clinic would probably be shut down soon anyway.

“If I’m wrong, I apologize.” Which wasn’t an apology at all. “I’d like you to look at this file and try to make sense of what happened.” There was no indication in his voice that he’d just accused her of complicity. Right now it was business as usual.

She stepped forward and took the photocopied file.

“The legal status of donor eggs is relatively uncharted territory.” He tented his hands. “The question is, do we assume that Jean Elliott will have her legal way, and do we therefore prepare the recipients of Chelsea Wright’s eggs? Or do we hope that the courts will rule against the attorney?”

He lifted his phone receiver. “In the meantime, I have the unpleasant task of questioning everyone here to find out who was involved with the tampering of Chelsea Wright’s file and the forging of her signature.”

Bastard, she thought as she left Fisk’s office. She wasn’t referring to Edmond.

“You okay?” Sam asked, entering her office. ‘ “Selena said the Wrights were here and Edmond was looking for you.”

“You could knock.” She was changing from her navy blazer into her gray medical coat, fumbling with the snaps because she was so angry her hands shook.

“Next time I’ll try to remember.” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “So what happened? Selena said Edmond came tearing into the building like he had to put out a fire.”

“Well, he couldn’t put it out.” She prepared a cup of coffee and told him what had transpired in Fisk’s office. “So now he’s interrogating everyone to find out who’s responsible—aside from Matthew, of course. Fisk knows they found the car.” She carried the cup to her desk, stopping to take a sip.

“You can’t blame him for suspecting Matthew, Lisa.” Sam knew about the car, too. Lisa had phoned him after Barone’s call.

She realized he was being careful not to say he agreed with Edmond, just as he’d been careful not to commit himself last night. She set the cup down and slumped into her chair. “You think Matthew skipped, don’t you? Why don’t you just say so!”

“Don’t youl Isn’t that why you’re angry—because you feel betrayed?” He was silent for a moment. “Matt’s a good friend, and he gave my career a boost when he hired me. I owe him, and I care about him. But yeah, I think he skipped. How else do you explain the fact that his car was at the airport?”

She told him what she’d told Edmond, but her recital lacked conviction. She didn’t believe it herself, and Sam was avoiding looking at her. “I just find it hard to believe that he’d change the files,” she said.

“Maybe you’re right.” He picked up a stapler from her desk and opened it. “Obviously one of the nurses goofed. When Matthew discovered the problem after Chelsea’s visit, he asked questions. Then Chelsea was murdered. The nurse was scared and changed the papers in case they’d be examined.”

“That would explain the ‘forget sig’ note.” She took a sip of coffee. “So why did he run away, Sam?”

The pitying look in his eyes said she already knew why. “Because he harvested her eggs. Because he knew he’d be named in a lawsuit, as the attending physician and as the chief director. Because he knew his dream clinic would go down with him. He couldn’t face it.”

“So where do you think he is?” It was the closest she’d come to admitting Matthew’s duplicity.

Sam shrugged. “Somewhere in South America, sipping that margarita. Some place where he can start over. Did the police check his bank account?”

“I don’t know. Fisk thinks Matthew stole the cash from the clinic safe. Selena told Fisk the thefts stopped when Matthew disappeared.”

“Bingo.”

She shook her head, annoyed. “You sound so calm, Sam. Why aren’t you angry?”

“Hell, I’m angry. Lisa.” He snapped the stapler shut and dropped it onto her desk. “But Matthew’s gone, and I’m not going to waste energy brooding about him. We have bigger problems. If the Wrights subpoena their daughter’s records, all our other patients will be screaming to see their records, too. Of course, the authorities

may get there first. Any way you look at it, it’s “Goodbye, clinic.”

“

“Damn it, Sam, how could he do this—let us think he’s been kidnapped or murdered, place the clinic in jeopardy? How could he put me in this awful position with Edmond!” She wrenched the diamond off her finger and flung it across the room, where it fell silently onto the carpet.

Sam retrieved the ring. “I wouldn’t chuck this. If the clinic shuts down, you may want to sell it to pay the rent.” He handed her the ring. She took it reluctantly and slipped it back on her finger. “Matthew acted out of desperation, Lisa,” he said quietly. “I’m sure he hated leaving you, putting you in this position.”

“Then why didn’t he leave me a note? Just two lines-“Dear Lisa, Sorry about everything. I’m not dead. Love, Matthew.” “

“We may never find out all the whys. I know that’s hard to accept. But you’re not alone—people care about you. / do.” He was looking at her intently.

She thought about last night and wondered if he was offering more than friendship. “I need to son out my feelings—and buy a punching bag with Matthew’s face on it.”

“Buy a dozen, one for everyone here.” He smiled and resumed his seat on her desk. “While you’re at it, get one with Ted’s face on it.”

“Why are you angry at him?” she asked, happy to change the subject. “I had to cover for him this morning. He left a patient sedated, can you believe it?” He grimaced. “In the last two months I’ve covered for him about half a dozen times.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“Matthew knew. I don’t like to rat on colleagues.” He shrugged. “Sometimes Ted’s late. Sometimes—like today—he doesn’t show at all. He usually blames his secretary—whoever she is that month—and says she messed up the scheduling. A couple of times he claimed car trouble, which is strange since he has a new Porsche. Another

time he said he had to do an emergency C-section at Cedars. When I asked him details, he told me to eff off, said he didn’t have to effing explain himself to me.” Sam rolled his eyes. “The guy has a limited vocabulary. You know how his nurses keep quitting? My theory is he makes them quit so he won’t have someone around, keeping tabs on him.”

She laughed. “Interesting theory.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “By the way, how’d it go with the Beverly Hills mom? Did you learn anything?”

“Basically, that money doesn’t solve everything. Paula Rhodes’s wealth doesn’t make her any less lonely, and she’s still a single mom raising an infant.” Lisa held the coffee cup in both hands, taking comfort in the warmth radiating through the porcelain.

Sam nodded. “It’s sad, but at least she can afford to hire mother’s helpers and all the other staff she needs to help fill the void. Did Chelsea say anything revealing to her?”

“If you mean, did she say anything about Matthew or the clinic, no. But she did tell Paula someone was phoning her and hanging up when she answered. It made Chelsea nervous.”

Sam frowned. “Probably kids fooling around,” he said, but sounded unsure. “Do the police know about these calls?”

“Paula’s going to tell Detective Barone. Sam, do you think a judge will grant the Wrights’ attorney a sub poena?” ‘

He looked pensive. “That’s a tough call. Even with adoption cases, there are no hard and fast rules. Sometimes the courts take the kids away from the adoptive parents and give them to the birth parents. Sometimes the adoptive parents win. The same thing goes with surrogacy cases. It depends on the judge.” “I guess egg donation is the modern spin on adoption. What would you do if you were judging Chelsea’s case?”

“Hell, / don’t know. What constitutes ‘motherhood’? Providing the eggs that contribute half the genetic material of a fertilized embryo? Providing the fetus with a

womb and nourishment? Providing a child with love and food and clothing and shelter and education?” He picked up a seashell paperweight holding down a stack of papers and spun it on her desk. “You were adopted. Who do you consider to be your mother?”

“That’s different, Sam. Until I was twenty, I didn’t know I was adopted.” She took the seashell from him. “Stop fidgeting.”

“My sister’s always telling me that. Sorry.” He smiled abashedly. “Did you ever try to locate your birth mother?”

“No. I thought about it, though. A lot. I fantasized about finding her and showing up on her doorstep. Sometimes I still do.” She shrugged. “I had so many questions—about her nationality, her appearance, her personality, her education, her likes and dislikes. Her medical history.”