The Lives Between Us (41 page)

“So they just leave the little embryos frozen indefinitely. What other options do they have?”

Jenny swallowed and wiped her mouth. “Five—none of them great. Use them.” She ticked the points off on her fingers. “Freeze indefinitely, thaw and quietly dispose of them, donate them to an infertile couple—known as President Bush’s Snowflake program—or donate them to research. Only three percent choose the last option.”

Skye did some quick mental calculations. Three percent of six hundred thousand was eighteen thousand, about four hundred-fifty percent more than the forty existing government-approved embryo stem cell lines—which were heavily flawed and nobody wanted to use.

“Although fascinating, still not seeing what this has to do with me.”

“Indirectly. I spent months researching this article. Talked to dozens of people across the country and word is there is a real—and strong—black market for embryos.”

“For their stem cells?”

Jenny jabbed her fork at her. “Bingo.”

“Doesn’t make sense. Obama’s executive order lifted the Bush administration’s strict limit on federal funding and invested millions of dollars in new embryonic stem cell research.”

“Research, not treatment. And for certain medical conditions, ESCs are still the gold standard.”

“Okay. So?”

“One of my informants contacted me a few weeks ago with an oddball tip. He was weirdly cryptic, but the gist of it was that the buzz on the street has it that a record fee was paid recently for embryos for a VIP’s treatment. In my own backyard.” She finished chewing. “At first it didn’t make much sense, but...” Jenny looked her in the eye. “What high profile person do we know who has used stem cells in treatment lately?”

“Not Noelle Hastings. She’s using stem cells from cord blood. Mark’s company provided them.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Jenny held her gaze and leaned in. “What if it’s not?”

“Not what?”

“What if the cells aren’t from cord blood? What if they’re from an embryo?”

“That’s crazy.” Edward would never okay that. But what if he
hadn’t
okayed it? “Where would they even find an embryo that was a great match?”

“Six hundred thousand is a lot of chances—not to mention that number is probably on the low side—if you’re tapping into a black market, these people have far larger, far more sophisticated networks than legal sources.

“As it was explained to me, infertile couples make on average eight to fourteen embryos. They may only use half of them, and it’s common for them to abandon the rest. Ask any fertility doctor. Once they have the kids they want, they often stop paying to store the rest of the embryos. They disappear, or move and leave no forwarding address, and the embryos become the fertility doctor’s problem.”

“So the less scrupulous docs sell the embryos on the black market.”

Jenny shrugged. “Seems so.”

“Isn’t that kind of risky?”

“Not really. They claim to have destroyed them or the embryos died in thawing. Ordinarily thirty percent die in thawing—though in 2008 they developed this new process of quick-freezing embryos called vitrification that has a ninety-five percent freeze-thaw ratio. It’s fascinating.” She frowned and shook her head. “Anyway, if the doc sells the embryos versus destroying them, who’s gonna say otherwise? The people paying him? I don’t think so.”

“Isn’t that against the law?”

“Selling them? Absolutely.” Jenny nodded.

“No, destroying them. I mean what about protecting human rights and all that? I’d think the pro-life organizations would be all over that.”

“Yeah, well, it seems they have bigger battles to fight and have let this one slide—at least in the states. Germany, Italy, and a few other countries solved this dilemma by forbidding the freezing of embryos—every embryo created must be implanted immediately. England, on the other hand, allows embryos to be frozen for a maximum of ten years—unless special circumstances exist. But so far Americans haven’t wanted the government regulating such things so...”

“We have a thriving black market fueled by more than half a million abandoned embryos.” Skye polished off the last of her soup and tore off a chunk of bread. “You could be mistaken. Could be your guy was talking about somebody else.”

“But what if he wasn’t?” Jenny leaned on the table, whispering, “If it ever got out that Hastings used ESCs in his wife’s treatment, he’d need to go into protective custody to save him from the pro-life groups that spent millions getting him elected.”

“And if Mark’s company supplied him with the line when he’s only supposed to be working with CBSC and the one diabetes ESC...” Mark’s company would be in jeopardy. But it was all so far-fetched. “This is crazy. Maybe we’re worrying for nothing.”

Jenny shrugged and sat back in her seat. “Maybe.”

“How can we find out for sure?”

“Ask.”

“Like Edward or Mark are gonna tell me? Especially now?” Skye leaned forward, whispering, “Oh, my God. What if they don’t know?”

Jenny’s chewing slowed, and her eyes sparkled with interest. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“If Edward thinks they used CBSCs and it was later exposed that he used ESCs, even if he denied knowing it, who’s going to believe him?” Not his pro-life benefactors. They’d be furious.

“It’s the
perfect
blackmail opportunity,” Jenny mused.

“We need to find out.” Skye pushed her tray away. “We need to get our hands on Noelle’s chart. I bet the answers are in there.”

“And how’re you going to do that?”

“We. We’re in this together.”

“Me?” Jenny looked at her sideways. “I’ve no incentive to get mixed up in this.”

“Your story.”

“Nope. Yours. If I’m right, this is going to blow your piece on Hastings out of the water—hell, out of the ocean.”

“I’ll share the byline.” Skye knew it was a weak incentive, but she was in over her head. She needed Jenny.

Jenny looked sideways at her and frowned. Her phone buzzed, and Jenny read her text. Her frown deepened. “I’ll help you if you dig up all the latest info on stem cells and Huntington’s disease for me. ASAP.”

Since Skye had the rough draft of her article done and Karen hadn’t given her a
definite
deadline, she could squeeze in a little research. “Okay. But why not put an intern on it?”

“It’s private, and I trust you to be discreet.”

“Do you want research or treatment options, too?”

“Everything. I’ll explain later.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Skye wandered through Target looking for a present for Faith’s birthday next week. She reached for the box that housed
Gray’s Anatomy
Season One. Faith liked
Gray’s Anatomy
. Noelle loved the medical drama, too. Hmmm. Probably not so much now. Perhaps
Modern Family
would be a better choice for Noelle. Something to make her laugh.

Wonder if she had a DVD player in her room. Probably, considering there wasn’t a lot new quadriplegics could do besides listen and watch things.

Skye picked up season one of each show. If Noelle didn’t have a DVD player, she’d buy her one. Skye paid for the DVD sets and climbed in her car. She wondered if Noelle knew about the revealing articles and hated her as much as her husband did. Knowing Edward, he’d find a way to shield her. He wouldn’t want Noelle upset—and she didn’t blame him. Noelle had enough to deal with.

Skye looked at the bag on the seat. No point in wrapping Noelle’s gift. She’d just pop it in the cute little flower bag she bought and run it in on her way home. Since it was the middle of the week, Skye was pretty sure Edward was in D.C., so she needn’t worry about dealing with his hostility.

Outside Fisher Rehab, Skye peeled the rectangular price tag off the boxed set and put the present in the daisy gift bag with some cheery green tissue paper artfully stuffed around the box. She slid out of the car, locked it, and headed toward the brick building. The usual person wasn’t at the reception desk, so Skye signed in under Noelle’s room number and headed for the stairs.

On the second floor, Skye wound her way around to the east wing of the building. Passing the nurses station, she smiled at the guard sitting outside Noelle’s room and flashed her driver’s license at him.

“Um, Miss Kendall?” The guard called out.

Skye pretended not to hear and slipped into room 232. Noelle sat in a wheelchair, with her back to the door. The nurse bending over her adjusting the arm straps looked up and saw Skye. She patted Noelle’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

She gestured for Skye to move into the hallway. The nurse tugged on her sleeve and urged her past the officer now standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Miss Kendall, Mrs. Hastings is not up to visitors right now.”

“Really?” Skye craned her head to look around the older woman but the officer blocked her view of Noelle. “She looked much better than the last time I saw her.”

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to go.”

A flush stained the woman’s cheeks, and she wouldn’t meet her eyes. She fidgeted with a roll of tape hung around her stethoscope. So Edward had banned her from Noelle’s bedside. What’d he think she’d do? Slip a secret camera in and sell photos?

“If you need to help her back to bed, I can wait. I really just stopped by to bring Noelle a little gift.” She lifted the bag.

The nurse held out a hand. “I can give it to her.”

Skye smiled. “I’d really like to give it to her myself. I won’t stay long.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no polite way to say this. Senator Hastings doesn’t want you visiting Mrs. Hastings.”

As she’d guessed. “Can I just drop this off? It’s a DVD—a set actually. One of her favorite shows.”

The nurse slowly raised her arm and took the bag. “I’m sorry. He gave strict orders where you’re concerned.”

She’d been blacklisted. How embarrassing to have her suspicion confirmed. “It’s okay.” Skye backed away. “Please tell Noelle I came by to visit and that I asked about her. I don’t want her to think I don’t care.”

If Edward hadn’t told Noelle about her supposed betrayal, she didn’t want Noelle to think she’d abandoned her.

Skye froze and looked back over her shoulder at the nurse. “Excuse me?”

The woman stopped pawing through the package—no doubt looking for a bomb—and lifted her head.

“How’d you know who I was? We’ve never met before.”

“He described you to a T.” She walked forward and withdrew a paper from her pocket. Unfolding it she handed the paper to Skye. “But also gave me this picture.”

A black and white picture of herself from the newspaper’s website stared back at her. The only thing missing from this wanted poster was her name and the reward. Skye studied the year-old photo. That naïve, impetuous girl didn’t even exist anymore. Heart heavy, she nodded and handed the photo back.

At home Skye paced her apartment. She watered her plants and pushed some leftovers around her plate. Emptying the dishwasher and dusting the apartment still left her with a surplus of frustrated energy. She called Mark and left yet another message asking him to call her.

This was ridiculous. Mark and Edward were treating her like a pariah. This had gone far enough. Skye was going to
make
Mark listen to her. She glanced at the clock. Eight.

Skye thrust her arms in her coat, hopped in her car, and drove to Mark’s house. Lights gleamed through the kitchen windows, brightening the white snow. She pictured him feeding the dogs and watching TV as he ate a late dinner. Gathering her courage, Skye left her car and stepped out into the cold night. She rang his doorbell.

The puppies scrambled to the door, barking, but she didn’t hear any familiar heavy footsteps. She rang the bell again. Her warm breath frosted the freezing air in front of her. He must be home. After three more tries over five minutes, Skye banged on the boor with her fist.

“Come on, Mark. I know you’re home.”

The door swung open. Feet spread far apart, Mark stood blocking the doorway. With hostility written all over his face, he stared at her.

“It’s cold out here. May I come in?”

Mark stood still as a granite statue. “Why are you here, Skye?”

Skye looked around the deserted, snowy street. He was really going to make them talk out here on his front porch? “You won’t answer the phone or return my messages.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I got that
.
But we need to talk.”

“We have nothing to say to each other.”

“I didn’t betray your trust, and I did not break Noelle or Edward’s confidences. I need you to believe that.”

“Then who?” Mark watched her carefully. “Who did?”

Skye looked away. She’d give up Daniels in a heartbeat if she could be sure Edward would go after him and not turn his frustration and worry on Jeff. Only, lately, Edward had been so emotional, Skye wasn’t at all certain that that’s what would happen. She doubted very much that Edward and Jeff’s relationship could withstand any more strain. Besides, if Jenny’s suspicions proved true, both Edward and Mark had greater problems than this leak.

“Exactly.” Mark pushed his hands to his hips. “I trusted you. I told Ed he was wrong about you. I brought you into their lives, and you
used
me to get to Ed.” Mark spit out each word.

Skye shook her head. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” But wasn’t she?

Skye was using information gleaned from her friendship with the Hastings in the article she was about to turn in. If she’d never fallen in love with Mark, she wouldn’t have gotten as close as she was to the Hastingses to see the real people behind the political front. She really was a little guilty—but not of what he was accusing her of.

“I have to admit; acting like you hated Ed was brilliant.” Mark slowly shook his head. “I did
not
see that coming. You knew I’d work harder to bring you two together, wanting you to get to know him if I was convinced you had a good reason not to like him.”

“What?” She frowned. Mark thought that she’d planned this all along? That was crazy.

“Wow, I
am
clever.” Skye stared at him, burying the hurt of his accusations behind sarcasm. “You really don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?”