River's Edge (20 page)

A
s Cade waited to hear back from the DA’s office, he studied the phone records for the Jacksons’ telephone number for the days prior to and since Lisa’s disappearance. He’d hoped to see a pattern of calls to Ben’s mystery mistress, but there didn’t seem to be any. But there was one call the morning of her disappearance that caught his attention.

She’d gotten a call from a Dr. Ralph Anderson.

He looked up the practice on his database and saw that it was from another fertility clinic in Savannah. Had Lisa sought another opinion? If so, did Ben know about it? And if she had gone to another doctor, why was she keeping her appointments with Sims each day?

Cade went into the jail at the back of the small building and found Ben lying on his cot. He had been subdued ever since he’d locked him up, with no outbursts of rage and no desperate pleas for freedom. Now and then Cade had come back here to check on him and had heard his deep, wet weeping. He told himself that the man’s grief
didn’t necessarily proclaim his innocence. Guilty people could grieve, too.

But Ben wasn’t crying now. He lay perfectly still, as if he slept with open eyes. He made no move at Cade’s approach.

“How ya doing, Ben?” Cade asked him.

“How do you think?”

“Ben, I need to ask you something about Lisa.”

That got his attention. Ben sat up and looked at him. “What?”

“It’s about her infertility treatments. I need to know if Lisa ever sought a second opinion from another doctor.”

Ben slumped over, set his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “As it happens, she
had
decided to get a second opinion. She went the week before her disappearance to a doctor named Anderson in Savannah. He just gave her the runaround.”

Dr. Anderson. The one the phone call had come from that morning. Cade pulled a chair close to the cell bars and sat down. “Could you tell me what prompted that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We were going to the Resolve support group—a support group for infertile couples—and there was a woman in the group who convinced her to do it. She claimed she’d gotten a second opinion and that doctor had found what was wrong with her husband, something that Dr. Sims hadn’t found. It was something minor that could be fixed in surgery, and now the woman was pregnant. Lisa thought it was worth a try, though she wasn’t entirely sure she needed to give up on Dr. Sims. That’s why we didn’t cancel any of our appointments, and we were going ahead with the protocol.”

“And how did he give her the runaround?”

“Well, he gave her a hysterogram and some other tests, but then she couldn’t seem to get the results. Sims always gave them to her on the spot. But it was like an act of congress with Anderson. She’d just about given up on him.”

“Are you aware that Dr. Anderson called your house the morning of Lisa’s death?”

“No.” Ben got up and came to the bars. “How do you know?”

“Phone records.”

Ben stared at him for a moment as he processed the information. “He must have called after I left. Maybe he gave her the results of her tests.”

Cade wondered if he had finally told her about the problem with her uterus. Had his phone call prompted Lisa to confront Dr. Sims?

“Can you go see him, Cade? Find out what he told her? Maybe it had something to do with what happened to her.”

Again, Cade’s gut told him he had locked up the wrong man. He got up, put the chair back. “I will, Ben. That’s first on my agenda today.”

C
ade found Dr. Anderson’s office on the fourth floor of a building that housed dozens of medical practices. From the looks of the decor, every practice there was established and lucrative. He found the sign that said “Women’s Diagnostic Health Clinic” and saw Anderson’s name listed as one of three doctors in the practice.

He pushed open the heavy mahogany door and stepped into the big waiting room. It was full of couples of various ages—from their mid-twenties to mid-forties—talking quietly and flipping through magazines that probably didn’t interest them.

Some of them looked up at him, and he wondered if he should have worn his uniform. He went to the reception desk and waited for the receptionist to slide open the glass panel. “I’m Chief Cade with the Cape Refuge Police Department—” he showed her his badge—“I need to see Dr. Anderson as soon as possible.”

The receptionist looked fascinated at his credentials, and a little frightened—the way one might look if Mike
Wallace came into the office with the
60 Minutes
crew. “Of course. Come this way.”

He followed her back into Dr. Anderson’s office.

“Have a seat, Chief Cade. He’s with a patient, but I’ll tell him you’re here. Unless it can’t wait. I could go get him right now…”

“No, that’s all right. He can finish with the patient.”

She looked relieved, as if that meant that he wasn’t in any kind of trouble. She closed the door, but Cade didn’t sit down. Instead, he perused the framed degrees on the wall behind the doctor’s desk, the pictures of his family. His wife looked about forty-five. They had two boys that looked college age. From the other framed snapshots around the room, he gleaned that they played baseball.

The door opened, and a small man with a bald head and a lab coat that looked too big for him came scurrying in. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Chief Cade.” He closed the door behind him, then reached out to shake Cade’s hand. “I’ve seen you on television.”

Cade didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never wanted to be a celebrity. He sat down, and Anderson took the seat behind his desk. It looked a little too high for him. “Then you know that I’m investigating the murder of Lisa Jackson. I understand she was a patient of yours.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. She just came to see me the week before her death. I was shocked when I saw that she’d been murdered.”

“I was wondering if you could tell me why she got a call from your office the morning of her disappearance.”

“Oh, yes.” Anderson reached into a stack on his desk and pulled out Lisa’s file. “I had called her that morning with the results of her tests. Spoke to her myself.”

Cade sat up straighter. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You see, she’d been through all these fertility treatments, very painful and difficult procedures, literally for years. But when I did her hysterogram I saw immediately why she’d never had a child.”

“A bicornuate uterus,” Cade said. “It showed up in the autopsy.”

“That’s right. I should have told her the day I did the test, but I decided to wait until I had all of her results. I was reluctant to accuse Alan Sims of lying to her. I tried to fathom how he could have made a mistake like that. But it was impossible. He had done the same tests on her, so he knew what I knew.”

“And you told her that morning?”

“Yes. It was a difficult thing to tell her. She could have had surgery years ago. The surgery has a high rate of success. But now, at her age, she had other factors against her. I told her we could still try, that there was much more hope with the surgery than there was with IVF.”

“Doctor, if there was fraud involved, is it possible that he could have pulled it off without help from his nurses and technicians?”

“I suppose it’s possible. I understand Sims does all his own lab work, instead of using outside labs like I do. If he falsified her results, it may be that no one knew.”

Cade studied the man’s face. “Dr. Anderson, why didn’t you come forward with this before?”

The man leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands in front of him. “I decided to take a different approach.”

“And what would that be?”

“I launched an inquiry with the American Medical Association. That’s how we physicians normally do things, Chief Cade. They have means for investigating these things, and if Sims is judged to be guilty of fraud, the appropriate authorities will be notified.”

“I understand that, Doctor, but I would think that Lisa’s murder might have made you rethink that approach.”

He sighed. “Perhaps it should have. But I have a very busy practice, and I admit I didn’t give it that much more thought. Once Lisa died, I figured her reproductive system wasn’t an issue anymore. Surely you don’t think that this had something to do with her murder.”

“I don’t know that, but right now everything is relevant.”

Cade got a copy of her records and left the office, deep in thought as he drove back to Cape Refuge. On his way back he radioed McCormick at the station.

“Yeah, Chief, what you got?”

“I want you to go to get a list of every person scheduled to see our man on May 16.” He hoped McCormick understood. The police scanner wasn’t all that private, so he didn’t want to spell it out.

There was a moment of silence, then McCormick came back. “Good idea, Cade. I’ll get right on it.”

B
lair heard Cade’s call on her police scanner. She recognized his attempt to keep his orders private from those like her who listened in. Dozens of private citizens had police scanners and kept up with the calls—retired or off-duty cops who still wanted to be a part of things, reporters like her looking for stories, and stringers hoping they could rush to crime scenes and get pictures to sell to her paper or others.

Who was
our man?
Was Cade telling McCormick to get the patient list from Dr. Sims’ office for the day of May 16 or the list of clients Carson Graham had seen? Or did this have something to do with Ben or Sam Sullivan’s business appointments?

It was unlikely he was talking about Ben or Sam, since they weren’t in businesses that relied on frequent appointments. No, it had to be Graham or Sims, and since he’d just told her about suspecting Sims of fraud, she decided it was probably him.

Did he think that one of the patients had killed Lisa, or was he simply looking for a witness? Had he come to the conclusion that Sims was the culprit?

She went by the newspaper office to check her messages before deciding which story to cover next. There was one from the postmaster about the post office closing on Wednesday afternoons. “Would you put a notice in the paper that they’ll have to do their mailing on Wednesday mornings instead, Blair? I don’t want any angry residents banging on our doors.”

Amy Matheson had left her weekly update about her daughter’s latest accomplishments. “Blair, I’m sending you a picture and a paragraph about Courtney’s soccer team’s win last week. Also, I thought I’d stick in the list of the straight-A honor students from the high school. Courtney was among them, of course. Next week she’s in the Chatham County Junior Miss Pageant. I know you’ll want to cover that.”

Blair sighed. Amy would love it if Blair devoted every page to her daughter. She needed an entire staff to keep up with these mundane stories. If she ever did expand into a daily, statewide paper, maybe she wouldn’t need this kind of drivel to fill up the pages.

She waited for the next message. “Blair, it’s me.” It was Morgan’s voice, flat and listless. “I wondered if you could come by and house-sit while I go to Dr. Sims this afternoon. I’m not comfortable leaving Sheila here alone with Caleb, and Jonathan’s going with me. Sadie’s here too, but I would feel a lot better if you were here. I have to be there at three.”

Blair wondered why she was going to Dr. Sims. She hadn’t had an appointment scheduled. Unless…

Blair’s heart jolted. Had her sister decided to do something drastic? Was she going to tell him that she wanted in vitro?

She didn’t bother to call her back. Instead, she called Cade’s cell phone, hoping he was still in Savannah and could get the signal. When he picked up, she burst out of her chair.

“Cade, this is Blair. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, I’m just driving back. What’s up?”

“It’s Morgan. She’s made an appointment to see Dr. Sims this afternoon. I’m afraid she’s decided to go through with the in vitro. She needs to know what you told me.”

He hesitated for a moment. “What time’s her appointment?”

“Three o’clock.”

“It’s one now. Tell you what, I’ll go straight to the house, and we’ll tell her together. Maybe she can keep that appointment and help us out a little.”

Blair grunted. “No, Cade. She’s too fragile right now. She might not be able to handle it.”

“Don’t underestimate your sister, Blair. She’s almost as tough as you are.”

M
organ stared out through the glass window in the kitchen, across the sun porch to the backyard. She could see Caleb chattering while he played on his plastic playground. Sheila stood back, as if she didn’t know how to involve herself in his play. Morgan hoped she wouldn’t let him fall.

She started to turn away, but just as she did, she saw Sheila bring something to her mouth. Was that another cigarette?

Morgan opened the screen door and stepped out, letting it bounce shut behind her. Sheila jumped and dropped what she’d been holding, but a thin cloud of smoke lingered around her.

Morgan almost didn’t say anything, but then she realized that Gus and Karen and Felitia had all been smokers too, when they’d come. They all quit as a requirement of living in the home. If she let Sheila get away with it, how would she face them?

She stepped down the steps into the yard. “Sheila, you were smoking.”

Sheila stepped on the butt, hiding the evidence. “No, I wasn’t.”

Morgan picked Caleb up. “He’s never been around cigarette smoke, not since he’s been with me. He doesn’t need to be inhaling that stuff.”

“Hey, I didn’t do it, okay? I’m being falsely accused.”

Morgan touched her arm and moved her aside. The butt lay on the ground like an indictment. “Then what is that?”

Sheila shoved her hair back from her face. “Look, there’s no sin against smoking. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Morgan tried not to react in her anger. She swallowed back her ire and took a deep breath. “Sheila, I really want this to work. Not just for Caleb and Sadie, but for you, too. We’re not asking that much of you. We’ll give you a nice place to live, food and clothing, and all the time in the world to be with your children. You don’t even have to work until you get your bearings.”

The screen door opened and Blair called out, “Hey, Sis.”

Thank goodness Blair had come. Now she could leave without worrying. “I’ll be in in a second,” she called. Blair went back in, and Morgan turned back to Sheila.

Caleb was fighting to get down. Morgan set him on his feet, and he bolted back to the playground.

Sheila sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t smoke anymore. It’s just stressful, this whole thing. I know I’ve been clean for a year, but I still have those cravings for…the drugs. And the cigarettes. I figure there’s no harm in the cigarettes.” She shoved her hair back from her face. “Oh, man. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t understand those cravings.”

“No one’s judging you, Sheila. Almost everybody who comes here has them, but I really believe the cigarettes make the cravings worse instead of better. Just the smell of matches starts the cravings in some people. In order to change your life, things have to be different. It’s my job to help you with that. Don’t you want
to do better by your children? Don’t you want to stop letting yourself down?”

Sheila’s face softened, and she looked helpless as she stared back at her son. “Of course I do. I’ll do better. I promise.”

Morgan sighed as she went back into the house. She didn’t want to talk to Blair or anyone else about all the negative feelings pulsing through her. She had only been at this for a few months, since her mother had died. Before, she had just helped her parents deal with the problems the residents presented. She had watched and learned, but when they died, she had felt called to take over. But she wasn’t a seasoned veteran, and she wasn’t as wise as they were. She could only draw on the wisdom of the policies they’d set in place, and the strength she drew from her Bible study and prayer early each morning. Without that, she knew she would have closed the home months ago.

She stepped back into the kitchen and saw Blair waiting for her. She heard men’s voices in the front room. “Is Jonathan home?”

“Yeah, he drove up when we did. He’s talking to Cade. Morgan, we need to talk to you in private.”

“What about?”

“It’s about Lisa. Let’s go into the parlor.”

What now? Morgan followed Blair into the parlor and listened, horrified, as Cade told them about Lisa’s uterus and the second opinion she’d gotten.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Jonathan said. “You’re telling us that Sims is a liar? A fraud?”

“It looks that way,” Cade said.

Morgan felt as if an eighteen-wheeler going ninety miles an hour had just broadsided her. She stared in front of her, searching her memory of every encounter with the doctor for some sign of guile. He’d seemed so sincere, so down-to-earth, so compassionate. He’d acted as if he really wanted them to have a child. For Lisa…

“He manipulated Lisa, lied to her, kept her from getting the help she needed that would have helped her get pregnant? How could anyone be that cruel?”

Blair spoke quietly, as if she feared setting Morgan off. “I told Cade that you had an appointment this afternoon. I wanted him to share this with you before you invested any more into this.”

Tears came to Morgan’s eyes. “We were going to have IVF. He convinced us that was the best thing.”

“Can we trust him with the results of the tests?” Jonathan asked. “Any of them?”

“I wouldn’t,” Cade said.

New hope blossomed inside Morgan. Maybe he was wrong about her hormones. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he’d made it sound. Maybe she
could
have a family.

Jonathan got up and went across the room. He turned back, rubbing his tanned neck. “Wow. This is unbelievable. What do you want us to do, Cade?”

“I want you to keep that appointment today. Tell him you’ve decided to do the in vitro. I’ll put a wire on you, Jonathan, so we can record whatever he says. I want you to ask specific questions. Get him to tell you Morgan’s condition again. Ask who does the ultrasounds, who fertilizes the egg after its harvested, which labs they work with, and how long before you get the results.”

“I’ll go along with this,” Jonathan said, “as long as he doesn’t touch my wife again. I don’t want him doing anymore tests or injecting anything into her or drawing blood—”

“That’s fine. I just want him to indict himself with his words.”

“I can’t promise I won’t reach across that desk and throttle him.”

Morgan knew her husband wasn’t exaggerating. “Jonathan, we can’t do this if you act angry.”

“She’s right, man,” Cade said.” “I need you to stay calm. Act like you would have before. He thinks he’s getting away with it.”

Jonathan’s jaw popped. “Do you think he killed Lisa?”

Cade rubbed his face. “I don’t know. We may be talking about two different cases that have nothing to do with each other.
But it’s real coincidental that Lisa found out on the same day she disappeared.”

Morgan sat down. “I’m going to be sick.”

Jonathan looked down at her. “Honey, are you sure you’re up to this?”

“You
bet
I am—” She bit the words out. “If he killed my friend, or even just lied to her—or to us—he needs to be stopped.”

Cade got up. “I’m going to get you an appointment with Dr. Anderson, Lisa’s other doctor. He’s going to do some preliminary testing of you and Jonathan and see if he can confirm what Sims has already told you. Will you do that, Morgan?”

“Of course. Just tell me when to show up.”