Death's Door (6 page)

Either she didn’t care or what he’d told her about himself didn’t register. She asked, “Your father wants my business?”

“No. This has nothing to do with your business. This is a personal matter.” What in hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he come to the point? He was progressing with the speed of a glacier. “I need to talk to you about your family.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why. My father died two years ago of cancer. My mother’s remarried.” She was regarding him with outright suspicion now, wondering, no doubt, what his angle was. “It’s a pretty typical story.”

“Would you consider yourself typical?”

She jumped to her feet and went over to the windows. He couldn’t help noticing she moved as if she were on a catwalk, not being deliberately provocative but gliding in a smooth, natural way that kicked up his pulse a notch. A second later, she pivoted in place and glared at him. “What do you want from me?” She hurried back to the sofa. “I only own half of Total-Trivia. Aiden Larsen and his wife control the other half. I can’t do anything without their approval.”

“I’m aware of the situation.” He didn’t add that he knew her ex had tried his damnedest to take the company away from her during the divorce. But she wasn’t just pretty and smart, she was a fighter. “This isn’t about your company, it’s about you.”

“Me?” Her response was a hollow echo in the high-ceilinged room.

“Yes. My father’s firm was hired to track you down.”

“Me? Why on earth—”

“Someone wants to meet you,” Paul replied, easing into what he knew would be a bombshell.

“Who? Why can’t they just pick up a phone and contact me? I’m not hard to find.” The words came out in a heated rush. She
took a deep breath and added, “What’s going on? Something’s not right.”

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it straight out. This man might be your biological father. We’ve been doing the verification for him. That’s how we found you.”

“What?” She surged to her feet once more. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re aware of sperm banks.” Paul expected a puzzled look, but instead hostility was etched on her face like a death mask.

“Of course,” she shot back without taking a breath. “So?”

“That’s how you were conceived.”

“My parents
never
used a sperm bank. They were totally in love. My mother was devastated when my father died. If they’d used a sperm bank, they would have told me.”

Paul knew he wouldn’t score any points by reminding Madison that her mother had married less than a year after her father’s death. He couldn’t see a way to sugarcoat this, and he sensed she was the type of woman who would appreciate directness. “According to my research, your mother was artificially inseminated at the New Horizons Fertility Clinic.”

“No way!” she shouted. The retriever shied to one side as if expecting a blow. “My mother would have told me.”

You’d be surprised,
he wanted to respond. Being a cop had proved to him that unimaginable things could happen. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She lowered herself to the sofa again and reached down to stroke the head of the frightened dog.

Paul reached inside the jacket of the lightweight sport coat he was wearing and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to her. “Is this your mother’s signature?”

Brows knit, she scanned the photocopy. “It appears to be her signature. It’s hard to say for sure.” She thrust the paper back at him. “So? She might have visited a clinic. That doesn’t mean—”

“She received sperm donations from donor 8374 on two separate occasions. I can show you documentation to prove it.”

Madison stared at him, her intense eyes calling him a liar. “That’s ridiculous. I look exactly like my father. Ask anyone. I have his personality, too.”

He waited, giving her time to absorb the news. “The insemination dates are just over nine months before you were born.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen the so-called documentation.”

She had the same stubborn streak the rest of her biological family shared, but he didn’t mention it. “I’ll have copies of it within the week.”

“Why don’t you have them now?”

“New Horizons was an unusual facility. They specialized in Mensa donors. Men with high—”

“I know what Mensa is. Eggheads. You have to have a high IQ score.”

“You were invited to join, weren’t you?”

She tossed her head and flung her hair over one shoulder. “Who would want to hang out with a bunch of nerds?”

He kept his smile to himself. His file on Madison told him a lot about her but there was nothing like an interview to reveal personality. She had attitude in spades, just like the rest of the bunch.

“Don’t you want to know more about donor 8374?”

“No. I don’t. There’s an explanation for this mistake. That donor is
not
my father.”

“He was a medical student at Harvard when he sold his sperm. They paid a premium for donors who were extremely intelligent. Know what their next requirement was?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. She was gazing heavenward and he was damn sure she wasn’t praying. “Other than being Caucasian? Tall. Women seeking sperm donors want tall men. Tall, smart men.”

He waited a beat to let that tidbit sink in, then added, “You’re a lot taller than either of your parents, aren’t you?”

“So?” she shot back, her accusing gaze now directed right at him. “A lot of children are taller than their parents.” She studied him a moment as if he were some disgusting bug that had crawled out from under a garbage can. “If this donor lived in Boston, how did his…his sperm get down here? My parents met at Tulane and moved to Miami just after they were married. My father might have gone to Boston on business, but my mother never visited the city until I went to college.”

He knew Madison had attended Massachusetts Institute of Technology as a National Science Foundation scholar and had been accepted to a master’s program. She’d dropped out and returned to Miami when her father had become ill with terminal pancreatic cancer. That’s when she’d met and married Aiden Larsen.

“The clinic in Boston sold some of their inventory to New Horizons.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Profit. Do you know how much more valuable sperm is when it comes from Mensa donors with Harvard credentials?”

“Don’t forget tall. Women want tall men.” She almost cracked a smile, surprising Paul and giving him a captivating glimpse of her disarming sense of humor.

“Right. Tall, smart men with Harvard degrees made New Horizons a bundle. You see, in the Boston area, there are a lot of Ivy League schools, but down here that isn’t the case. New Horizons did a ton of advertising. Women flocked to their Miami clinic. There was a long, long waiting list.”

“It isn’t around anymore?”

“They went out of business in the mid-nineties.” He didn’t say they’d been sued for false advertising.

“Why? From what I’ve read, using sperm donors is more
popular than ever. Seems to me, smart, tall men with Ivy League degrees are still in demand.”

Some people were book smart, but Madison Connelly was quick on the uptake. He decided now was the time to be honest with her. “The Boston sperm bank stopped using Mensa donors after coming under fire for being too elitist. New Horizons was forced to collect sperm locally. They concocted phony backgrounds to get higher prices for their services. Lawsuits followed and put them out of business.”

“I don’t know why I asked. This has nothing to do with my parents.” She didn’t sound as sure of herself as she had a few minutes ago. “What do you want with me?”

“You have a family who would like to meet you. A half brother and a half sister—”

She jumped to her feet again. This time she didn’t utter a word as she stalked to the wall of glass where the sun had set in a burst of crimson and gold. “I don’t want to meet any of them under false pretenses. I know who my father is. Some photocopy from a clinic that went out of business for illegal practices doesn’t prove a thing.”

She spun around to face him. “My mother is sailing in the South Pacific right now. It’s an extended honeymoon and an adventure she’s always wanted. She telephones me whenever she gets to a port.” She strode toward the door, covering the distance quickly with her showgirl legs, and flung it open. “I’ll call you if she says this is true.”

Paul rose slowly. He already knew Madison’s mother was sailing around the world with her new husband, a man not much older than her daughter. It could be weeks before she surfaced.

“I regret having to keep being the bearer of bad news. I know now is a terrible moment to tell you all this but I’m afraid we don’t have much time. This sperm donor needs a liver transplant or he’ll die.”

Her flashing eyes telegraphed the anger she was barely
keeping in check. “I knew there was a reason for your visit. That man doesn’t want to connect with his supposed long-lost children. He’s after an organ donor.”

Paul couldn’t deny it. “True, but does the name Wyatt Holbrook mean anything to you?”

He could see that it did. Wyatt was well-known in the Miami area for his philanthropic endeavors and his pharmaceutical company. Madison was too smart and too well-read not to recognize the name.

“I’ve heard of him.” The hostility in her voice had dropped a notch. “He’s done a lot to help people in Miami.”

“Yes. He funded the cancer wing at Miami General and he’s given generously to AIDS research projects locally and nationally.”

“Fine. So he’s a generous man who’s helped people.” Hostility was still evident in her voice.

“He’s the sperm donor I mentioned.” He refrained from referring to the man as her father. He could see how sensitive she was about the subject. “He has two children by his late wife but they can’t donate.”

“Wait a second! Did you say
liver
transplant?” When Paul nodded, she rushed to add, “I was thinking kidney. I’ve read a little about liver transplants from live donors—”

“It’s a relatively new procedure. A donor gives a lobe of the organ and over time it regenerates to almost full size again. The most successful transplants are between blood relatives.”

“Isn’t it a risky procedure for the donor?”

“There is some risk,” he hedged. “It’s major abdominal surgery, but there have been very few documented problems.”

“It’s a lot to ask of anyone, much less a child he dug up just so he could find a suitable organ.”

Paul stared at her hard, trying to determine which card to play. “If this were your father, wouldn’t you do anything you could to save him?”

She shrugged, but he could see his words hit the mark. He pulled out all the stops. “This man isn’t just any ordinary human being who needs help. Wyatt Holbrook is in the process of setting up one of the largest research foundations in the country. The money he contributes will finance countless medical and scientific advances.”

He watched these facts register on her pretty face and her composure cracked just a little. “I guess.”

Paul pressed his advantage. “Isn’t he a man worth saving?”

The words hung in the air, the echo of the truth suspended between them.

She stared at him for a moment, then spoke in a low-pitched voice. “Any human being is worth saving. That isn’t the point. I would have given all I have or ever hope to have to prevent Erin’s death. I would help this man…if I could. From what I’ve read, the liver will be rejected unless the two immune systems are compatible. I’m not related to Wyatt Holbrook. The chances of my immune system being a close enough match are astronomical.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot today. I hate to add to your burden. I’m just asking you to think about trying to help a man who has devoted his life to giving to others.” He handed her a business card. “Think about it. I’ll be in touch.”

What attracts malaria mosquitoes the fastest?

“W
HERE IS EVERYONE
?”
Madison asked Rob Matthews, Erin’s former boyfriend. “There were dozens of people at the funeral home.”

It had been three days since she’d discovered Erin’s body. The police wouldn’t release the body until the coroner certified the autopsy results. Until then, there was always the possibility additional tests might be needed. During that time, Madison had scrambled to plan the funeral and notify as many of Erin’s friends and relatives as possible.

It had proved to be a difficult task. Erin had been an only child of parents with almost no living relatives. The second cousins Madison did manage to locate in Missouri barely knew Erin’s name. None of them had met her and they weren’t interested in attending her funeral.

Erin’s employer was fond of Erin and said he would be at the service. Madison contacted a few friends that she and Erin had known in high school. They hadn’t stayed in touch with many of them, but several assured Madison they would come. Considering the few people who planned to attend, Madison was astonished when she turned from her place in the first row where she was sitting beside Rob and saw there was standing room only in the tiny chapel operated by the funeral home.

Who were they? she’d wondered. Apparently, they’d read the
notice in the newspaper. Just seeing all the solemn faces cheered Madison. She’d imagined Erin being buried with almost no one to grieve for her. As soon as the brief service was over, Madison had phoned the caterer to order more food and made sure everyone had maps to the Fisher Island home where she was holding the reception.

“Do you think people were intimidated by Fisher Island?” Madison asked Rob. “Is that why they didn’t come?”

“I doubt it. Most people never have the chance to visit a private island like Fisher. They wouldn’t miss an opportunity.”

Madison looked around. Less than a dozen people were clustered in small groups near the lavish buffet. No one was at the bar, where a waiter stood ready to serve drinks.

“So where are they?” she asked. Most of the guests who were present had eaten and would be leaving soon.

“Well…I suspect some of them might not want anyone to know their names.” Rob’s dark brown eyes telegraphed concern and anxiety. He was obviously grieving but trying to be stoic. He was tall and a little thinner than when she’d last joined him for dinner. He had a warm smile and a great sense of humor, but he was a little offbeat. She could never tell what he was really thinking. In that way, he was a lot like Erin, she decided.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The police had a car with a video camera outside the funeral home.”

“They did?” Madison had been so shell-shocked from her best friend’s death and lack of sleep that she’d barely managed to keep from sobbing as she’d walked into the chapel. She hadn’t noticed much.

“I think it’s standard after a homicide,” Rob replied. “Some killers get a morbid thrill from attending their victim’s funerals.”

“I know.” She’d seen enough crime shows to realize this.
“But people at the funeral were so normal-looking. A lot of them were women. Some seemed to be grandmother and grandfather types. They didn’t look like killers.”

“What do killers look like?” he asked, his voice pitched so low he was almost whispering.

“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself over and over who could have killed Erin. She never hurt anyone. Who would want her dead?”

“No one. No one we know, anyway.”

“Don’t bet on it,” she replied. “I know the statistics. Homicides are rarely random acts.” She didn’t mention the details Paul had given her. From what he’d said, the killer knew a lot about Erin’s personal habits. The murderer could have been a stalker who spied on her, or someone she knew.

Rob slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. She leaned just slightly against his tall, spare frame. Here was someone who loved Erin as much as Madison had. The only other person at the funeral who had honestly cared about Erin. Whatever had caused Erin and Rob to break up could easily have been Erin’s fault. As close as Erin and Madison had always been, it remained a mystery to her why Erin never quite connected with other people.

A lone wolf. That’s what her father had once called Erin. The thought of her father brought her back to Paul Tanner and his horrible accusations. She’d tried not to think about what he’d told her.

Madison wanted to reach her mother, but she was still between ports somewhere in the South Pacific with the young hunk who’d replaced her beloved father. Her mother had been so devastated by the loss of her husband that she’d remarried more quickly than she should have, in Madison’s opinion. Madison didn’t care for the man, but she had to deal with him if she wanted a relationship with her mother.

Though in her heart, Madison knew Zack Connelly was her
father, she just wanted to hear her mother’s explanation for visiting a fertility clinic. She’d thought it over and decided her mother must have received some type of fertility drug. That’s why what appeared to be her signature had been on one of the clinic’s forms.
Forget it,
she told herself.
Focus on Erin, on the present.

“Who do you think all those people at the chapel were?” Madison repeated the question she’d just asked as she pulled away from Rob. “Why would they care if the police saw them?”

He ran his slender fingers through his dark brown hair, his gaze troubled. “I’m fairly sure they knew Erin from the Everglades Animal Defense League.”

“Oh, really?” She hadn’t thought of those folks. Erin had been active with the group since her first year in college. Madison had been at MIT at the time, but Erin had told her about being a founding member of the group when Madison came home at Easter. The organization had campaigned hard to stop cosmetic testing on animals. What had begun with pickets and print advertising had escalated into break-ins and arson.

“That’s what caused our split, you know.”

Madison shook her head; Erin had never wanted to discuss her problems with Rob. Typical Erin. Her friend talked least about what mattered the most.

Not that Rob had been any more forthcoming. Madison had gone to dinner a few times with him, when he’d been kind enough to call and see how she was dealing with her divorce. He’d never brought up his split with Erin. It was as if a steel curtain came down. No one knew the details except Erin and Rob.

“As a vet, I’m sympathetic to the cause,” he told her. “But I couldn’t condone criminal activity.”

She could see his point, yet she shared Erin’s concern with the way many animals were treated in labs. “It’s wrong to test cosmetics and hair products on animals.”

“Like Aspen.”

“Dr. Wallace told you?” After finding Erin’s body, Madison had taken the golden retriever to Rob’s veterinary clinic, but she’d been late for the appointment and his associate had treated Aspen. When Madison had told the police Aspen had an eye infection, it had just been a guess fueled by her desire to get away from the crime scene. Rob’s associate had stunned her when he’d informed her Aspen’s runny eyes had probably been deliberately inflicted.

“Wally thinks hair spray or maybe spray deodorant was tested on your dog. Not a surprise. Wally interned in a test lab. He knows the signs.” Rob hesitated a moment, moved a little closer, then slid his arm around Madison’s shoulders again. “Erin called me about midnight the night she died. I hadn’t heard from her in months. She told me she’d
found
a dog that someone had abused. Something had been sprayed in his eyes. I told her to come in at noon because I had to leave for a meeting. But that’s not why I wanted her there during lunch.”

Something in his expression alarmed Madison. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

“I doubted she’d ‘found’ a dog in the middle of the night. The EADL had been at it again. They’d broken into a test facility somewhere and stolen the animals used for experiments. I agreed to treat the dog but I didn’t want it in my records.”

Madison knew Rob could lose his license if the authorities charged him with aiding the illegal activities of the Everglades Animal Defense League. She vaguely remembered something she’d seen on TV the morning she’d found Erin’s body. There had been a suspicious fire at a local laboratory that conducted tests for cosmetics companies. It appeared to have been set to conceal the theft of the lab’s test animals and documents. At the time, it had crossed her mind Erin might have been involved. So much had happened that she’d forgotten about it.

“The television reports never mentioned dogs,” she told him. “They said lab animals had been taken, which made it sound like mice or rats.”

“Animal rights are a hot issue. People cut labs slack when testing is for cancer or some other medical purpose, but testing cosmetics on dogs could trigger a lot of negative publicity the company doesn’t want.”

“I see,” Madison replied. “Why did Erin have papers saying she bought Aspen for twenty-five dollars from some woman?”

Rob hesitated a moment, then said, “The way I understand it, when the league ‘liberates’ animals, they shuttle them as fast as they can and as far from the lab as possible. Erin was probably going to drive north, then hand off the dog to someone else who would in turn drive and meet another person. If questioned about the animal, they would have papers.”

“I see. Erin never mentioned anything about doing these things.”

“That’s because she knew you disapproved.”

“True. After the fire at the Attleborough Laboratory back when we were in college, I told her how reckless I thought the group was being. Someone could get killed or injured in a fire. I reminded her a man in Oregon who’d set fire to a lab that tested on animals received a five-year prison term. I told her to stop.”

“Erin was too stubborn to stop. She just didn’t tell you about it anymore.”

Madison nodded, sighed. Erin had never said she would drop out of the group. Every time Madison heard about an incident at a lab, she would wonder if Erin was involved.

Rob gave her a slight hug. She was a little uncomfortable having his arm around her so much. She knew he was only trying to comfort her, but it somehow made her feel disloyal to Erin. Her friend had been devoted to this man and he’d left her. Not that Madison blamed him exactly, but the situation made her feel guilty.

Their split had happened just days after Aiden had left Madison. She’d been in such turmoil that she’d been of little help to Erin. When Madison had finally pulled herself together, Erin seemed to have recovered, as well. She never said exactly why Rob left except they didn’t agree on life.

“Madison,” called a male voice, and she turned to see Erin’s boss walking her way. Beside the heavyset, balding Mr. Pinder were two women in black suits. She assumed they all worked in the Tropical Shades office where Erin had been a sales rep.

“We’ve got to run,” said one of the women. “You know how it is on the 95.”

She nodded; indeed she did. Take the wrong off-ramp on the trip north and you could be history. A fact that had put a dent in Miami’s tourism when several tourists had been killed after taking the wrong exit and finding themselves in no-man’s-land.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mr. Pinder told Madison. “Erin was a wonderful person.”

“A treasure,” agreed the other woman with him.

“Thank you for coming,” Madison made herself say. She doubted if any of the three had more than a passing acquaintance with Erin. She wasn’t one to be close to employees in an office she used as a base and visited only when necessary.

Within the next half hour, the others gradually left. Twilight gathered over Biscayne Bay and no one remained except the catering crew, who was busy loading up, and Rob Matthews.

“I’ve told them to pack up some of the food for you,” she said to Rob as they stood by the artful cheese display on the buffet table. “I’m sure the gang in your office can eat it tomorrow.”

One of the cheeses was a little strong; the smell wafted up toward her. Madison suddenly remembered malaria-bearing mosquitoes are drawn the fastest by the scent of strong cheese. Humans exuded sweat—particularly from their feet—that was much like cheese and attracted mosquitoes, especially in the tropics. She never ate cheese with a strong smell.

“Thanks. It’s a shame to waste so much,” Rob replied. “What about your office?”

“There’s plenty for both of us and I’m sure the kids in the cube farm will scarf up every morsel.” She didn’t add that she dreaded going to work tomorrow. She was so angry she was afraid of what she might say. Aiden had known Erin for years. True, the two hadn’t cared for each other, but Aiden should have at least put in an appearance at the funeral.

“Maybe we should walk the dog,” suggested Rob.

“Good idea. I’ll get Aspen.” She rushed off toward the bedroom she was using. She’d put the retriever in the room to keep him from slipping out the front door with one of the guests.

“Here, boy,” she called as she entered the bedroom. Aspen jumped to his feet and headed in her direction. She noticed he was moving more quickly than he had when she’d first gotten him. Rob’s partner hadn’t given her much hope that the quality of Aspen’s vision would improve, so she assumed he was becoming accustomed to his surroundings. “How about a walk?”

The dog enthusiastically wagged his tail. He was an intelligent dog. In the short time she’d had him, Aspen had learned what “cookie” and “walk” meant. She grabbed his leash off the dresser, clasped it to his collar and walked him out to the foyer where Rob was waiting.

With a smile, he held the door open for them. Outside, it was still warm and the last remaining light from the setting sun glistened on Biscayne Bay. The beauty of nature was eternal, timeless, she thought, unlike the fleetingness of life, where people could be snatched from you in an instant.

“You know, I’m already attached to this dog,” she told Rob. “I think Aspen must have been someone’s pet. He’s well behaved and knows several commands.”