I'll Be Seeing You (20 page)

Half an hour later, in Danbury Medical Center, Dina Anderson was being examined. “Would you believe the contractions stopped?” she asked in disgust.

“We're going to keep you,” the obstetrician told her. “If nothing happens during the night, we'll start an IV to induce labor in the morning. You might as well go home, Don.”

Dina pulled her husband's face down for a kiss. “Don't look so worried, Daddy. Oh, and will you phone Meghan Collins and alert her that Ryan will probably be around by tomorrow. She wants to be there to tape him as soon as he's in the nursery. Be sure to bring the pictures of Jonathan as a newborn. She's going to show them with the baby so everyone can see that they're exactly alike. And let Dr. Manning know. He was so sweet. He called today to ask how I was doing.”

The next morning, Meghan and her cameraman, Steve, were in the lobby of the hospital, awaiting word of the delivery of Ryan. Donald Anderson had given them Jonathan's newborn infant pictures. When the baby was in the nursery, they would be allowed to videotape him. Jonathan would be brought to the hospital by Dina's mother, and they'd be able to take a brief shot of the family together.

With a reporter's eye, Meghan observed the activity in the lobby. A young mother, her infant in her arms, was being wheeled to the door by a nurse. Her husband fol
lowed, struggling with suitcases and flower arrangements. From one of the bouquets floated a pink balloon inscribed, “It's a Girl.”

An exhausted-looking couple came out of the elevator holding the hands of a four-year-old with a cast on his arm and a bandage on his head. An expectant mother crossed the lobby and entered the door marked ADMITTANCE.

Seeing these families, Meghan was reminded of Kyle. What kind of mother would walk out on a six-month-old baby?

The cameraman was studying Jonathan's pictures. “I'll get the same angle,” he said. “Kind of weird when you think you know exactly what the kid's gonna look like.”

“Look,” Meghan said. “That's Dr. Manning coming in. I wonder if he's here because of the Andersons.”

Upstairs in the delivery room, a loud wail brought a smile to the faces of the doctors, the nurses and the Andersons. Pale and exhausted, Dina looked up at her husband and saw the shock on his face. Frantically she pulled herself up on one elbow. “Is he okay?” she cried. “Let me see him.”

“He's fine, Dina,” the doctor said, holding up the squalling infant with the shock of bright red hair.

“That's not Jonathan's twin!” Dina screamed. “Whose baby have I been carrying?”

“I
t always rains on Saturday,” Kyle grumbled as he flipped from channel to channel on the television set. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, Jake beside him.

Mac was deep in the morning paper. “Not always,” he said absently. He glanced at his watch. It was almost noon. “Turn to Channel 3. I want to catch the news.”

“Okay.” Kyle clicked the remote. “Look, there's Meg!”

Mac dropped the paper. “Turn up the volume.”

“You're always telling me to turn it down.”

“Kyle!”

“Okay. Okay.”

Meg was standing in the lobby of a hospital. “There is a frightening new development in the Manning Clinic case. Following the murder of Helene Petrovic, and the discovery of her fraudulent credentials, there has been concern that the late Ms. Petrovic may have made serious mistakes in handling the cryopreserved embryos. An hour ago a baby, expected to be the clone of his three-year-old brother, was born here in Danbury Medical Center.”

Mac and Kyle watched as the camera angle widened.

“With me is Dr. Allan Neitzer, the obstetrician who just delivered Dina Anderson of a son. Doctor, will you tell us about the baby?”

“The baby is a healthy, beautiful eight-pound boy.”

“But it is not the identical twin of the Andersons' three-year-old son?”

“No, it is not.”

“Is it Dina Anderson's biological child?”

“Only DNA tests can establish that.”

“How long will they take?”

“Four to six weeks.”

“How are the Andersons reacting?”

“Very upset. Very worried.”

“Dr. Manning was here. He went upstairs before we could speak to him. Has he seen the Andersons?”

“I can't comment on that.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Meghan turned to face the camera directly. “We'll be here with this unfolding story. Back to you in the newsroom, Mike.”

“Turn it off, Kyle.”

Kyle pressed the remote button, and the screen went blank. “What did that mean?”

It means big problems, Mac thought. How many more mistakes had Helene Petrovic made at Manning? Whatever they were, no doubt Edwin Collins would be held equally responsible for them. “It's pretty complicated, Kyle.”

“Is anything wrong for Meg?”

Mac looked into his son's face. The sandy hair so like his own that never stayed in place was falling on his forehead. The brown eyes that he'd inherited from Ginger had lost their usual merry twinkle. Except for the color of the eyes, Kyle was a MacIntyre through and through. What would it be like, Mac wondered, to look in your son's face and realize he might not belong to you.

He put an arm around Kyle. “Things have been rough for Meg lately. That's why she looks worried.”

“Next to you and Jake, she's my best friend,” Kyle said soberly.

At the mention of his name, Jake thumped his tail.

Mac smiled wryly. “I'm sure Meg will be flattered to hear it.” Not for the first time in these last few days, he wondered if his blind stupidity in not realizing his feelings
for Meg had forever relegated him in her eyes to the status of friend and buddy.

Meghan and the cameraman sat in the lobby of Danbury Medical Center. Steve seemed to know that she did not want to talk. Neither Donald Anderson nor Dr. Manning had come downstairs.

“Look, Meg,” Steve said suddenly, “isn't that the other Anderson kid?”

“Yes, it is. That must be the grandmother with him.”

They both jumped up, followed them across the lobby and caught them at the elevator. Meg turned on the mike. Steve began to roll tape.

“I wonder if you would speak to us for a moment,” Meghan asked the woman. “Aren't you Dina Anderson's mother and Jonathan's grandmother?”

“Yes, I am.” The well-bred voice was distressed. Silver hair framed a troubled face.

By her expression, Meghan knew the woman was aware of the problem.

“Have you spoken to your daughter or son-in-law since the baby was born?”

“My son-in-law phoned me. Please. We want to get upstairs. My daughter needs me.” She stepped into the elevator, the little boy's hand grasped tightly in her own.

Meghan did not try to detain her.

Jonathan was wearing a blue jacket that matched the blue of his eyes. His cheeks were rosy accents to his fair complexion. His hood was down, and raindrops had beaded the white-gold hair that was shaped in Buster Brown style. He smiled and waved. “Bye-bye,” he called as the elevator doors began to close.

“That's some good-looking kid,” Steve observed.

“He's beautiful,” Meghan agreed.

They returned to their seats. “Do you think Manning will give a statement?” Steve asked.

“If I were Dr. Manning, I'd be talking to my lawyers.”
And Collins and Carter Executive Search will need their lawyers too, she thought.

Meghan's beeper sounded. She pulled out her cellular phone, called the news desk and was told that Tom Weicker wanted to talk to her. “If Tom's in on Saturday, something's up,” she murmured.

Something was up. Weicker got right to the point. “Meg, Dennis Cimini is on his way to relieve you. He took a helicopter, so he should be there soon.”

She was not surprised. The special about identical twins being born three years apart had become a much bigger story. It was now tied into the Manning Clinic scandal and the murder of Helene Petrovic.

“All right, Tom.” She sensed there was more.

“Meg, you told the Connecticut authorities about the dead woman who resembles you and the fact that she had a note in her pocket in your father's handwriting.”

“I felt I had to tell them. I was sure the New York detectives would contact them at some point about it.”

“There's been a leak somewhere. They also learned that you went to the morgue for a DNA test. We've got to carry the story right away. The other stations have it.”

“I understand, Tom.”

“Meg, as of now you're on leave. Paid leave of course.”

“All right.”

“I'm sorry, Meg.”

“I know you are. Thanks.” She broke the connection. Dennis Cimini was coming through the revolving door to the lobby. “I guess that does it. See you around, Steve,” she said. She hoped her bitter disappointment wasn't obvious to him.

T
here was an auction coming up on property near the Rhode Island border. Phillip Carter had planned to take a look at it.

He needed a day away from the office and the myriad problems of the past week. The media had been omnipresent. The investigators had been in and out. A talk show host had actually asked him to be on a program about missing persons.

Victor Orsini had not been off the mark when he said that every word uttered or printed about Helene Petrovic's fraudulent credentials was a nail in the coffin of Collins and Carter.

On Saturday just before noon, Carter was at his front door when the phone rang. He debated about answering, then picked up the receiver. It was Orsini.

“Phillip, I had the television on. The fat's in the fire. Helene Petrovic's first known mistake at the Manning Clinic was just born.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Orsini explained. As Phillip listened, his blood chilled.

“This is just the beginning,” Orsini said. “How much insurance does the company have to cover this?”

“There isn't enough insurance in the world to cover it,” Carter said quietly as he hung up.

You believe you have everything under control, he thought, but you never do. Panic was not a familiar emotion, but suddenly events were closing in on him.

In the next moment he was thinking of Catherine and Meghan. There was no further consideration of a lei
surely drive to the country. He would call Meg and Catherine later. Maybe he could join them for dinner this evening. He wanted to know what they were doing, what they were thinking.

When Meg got home at one-thirty, Catherine had lunch ready. She'd seen the news brief broadcast from the hospital.

“It was probably my last one for Channel 3,” Meg said quietly.

For a little while, both too overwhelmed to speak, the two women ate in silence. Then Meg said, “Mom, as bad as it is for us, can you imagine how the women feel who underwent in vitro fertilization at the Manning Clinic? With the Anderson mix-up there isn't one of them who isn't going to wonder if she received her own embryo. What will happen when errors can be traced and a biological and host mother both claim the same child?”

“I can imagine what it would be like.” Catherine Collins reached across the table and grasped Meg's hand. “Meggie, I've lived for nearly nine months on such an emotional seesaw that I'm punch drunk.”

“Mom, I know how it's been for you.”

“Hear me out. I have no idea how all this will end, but I do know one thing.
I can't lose you.
If somebody killed that poor girl thinking it was you, I can only pity her with all my heart and thank God on my knees that you're the one who's alive.”

They both jumped as the door bell rang.

“I'll get it,” Meg said.

It was an insured package for Catherine. She ripped it open. Inside was a note and a small box. She read the note aloud: “Dear Mrs. Collins, I am returning your husband's wedding ring. I have rarely felt such certainty as I did when I told investigator Bob Marron that Edwin Collins died many months ago.

“My thoughts and prayers are with you, Fiona Campbell Black.”

Meghan realized that she was glad to see tears wash away some of the pain that was etched on her mother's face.

Catherine took the slender gold ring from the box and closed her hand over it.

L
ate Saturday in Danbury Medical Center, a sedated Dina Anderson was dozing in bed, Jonathan asleep beside her. Her husband and mother were sitting silently by the bedside. The obstetrician, Dr. Neitzer, came to the door and beckoned to Don.

He stepped outside. “Any word?”