The Baby Thief (8 page)

Her life had been one heartache after another, with only work in between for company, but Elizabeth hadn’t felt sorry for herself in a long time. Her work was exciting, and the prestige of being recognized as a brilliant geneticist had distracted her from the emptiness.

In a single instant, everything had changed. Elizabeth smiled at the memory. Seeing those familiar DNA patterns and discovering the existence of her sister had opened a door she thought was closed forever. All her research, the long hours in the lab, had real meaning now that she could use her expertise to create the perfect child for herself.
If David had successfully picked up McClure and if everything else went well
.

Elizabeth returned to her bench and began the methodical separation process. She reminded herself that it was foolish to get her hopes up. Creating embryos outside the uterus was a delicate process with a high failure rate. Even though David had become a highly skilled embryologist, the real difficulty of any IVF cycle was getting the embryos to implant in the endometrium. The uterine environment at the time of transfer was critical, yet difficult to assess. And with her iatrogenic ovarian damage, it could be tricky.

Oh, dear God. What if her sister was sterile too? Elizabeth’s fingers tightened on the vial. After all, McClure had gone to the Assisted Reproduction Clinic to be artificially inseminated. Had she been trying to conceive on her own? Would she even know if she was fertile?

Elizabeth began to tremble as Dr. Avery’s questions came back to haunt her. The fertility specialist said he’d never seen such severe scarring around the ovaries. He’d asked politely about uterine infections and whether her mother had taken DES. Elizabeth hadn’t been able to answer. She’d left his office in a blind rage, cursing her adopted father with every possible profanity. His repeated sexual assaults had given her countless pelvic infections as a teenager. It had been so easy to blame him for the scarring that made her sterile, but what if her mother had taken DES? What if McClure’s ovaries were as damaged as hers were?

Elizabeth stepped back from the table and sank into a lab chair. She had to get a grip on herself, even though her assistant had gone home and there was no one to see her fall apart. She massaged her temples and reminded herself that it was just speculation. Her sister’s ovaries were probably fine. She regretted not finding out first. To have taken such a risk for nothing…

The tiny tingle of a phone cut into her thoughts. Finally! She grabbed her cell phone from her lab coat pocket and forced herself to sound calm and professional. “Dr. Demauer.”

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

“David! What happened? Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s a long story, and I need to see you right away.”

“Damn it, David! Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Not over the phone. Why don’t you come out here? I don’t think I should leave the compound right now.”

“What’s going on? Is McClure okay?”

“Just come now, Elizabeth.”

The phone clicked in her ear. Sharp pinpoints of pain danced behind her eyes. What could be happening? Had the patient been harmed in some way? Or was David just being dramatic and manipulative? Suppressing her anger, Elizabeth moved into action, putting the vial back in the deep freeze and locking every cabinet before stepping out of the office and locking it too.

The research section of the hospital was almost always quiet, and on weekends it was virtually empty. Elizabeth hurried through the corridors without encountering a soul. Her dark grey Lexus was one of three cars left on the fifth floor of the garage. She was so preoccupied, she failed to follow her usual precautions of keeping her mace in hand and staying in the lighted center.

She wanted to stop at home and change into something comfortable, but the indulgence would set her back almost an hour. Her home was in an exclusive riverside community with a gate and a guard, the first enclosed development in Eugene. Elizabeth had gladly paid the price for the comfort of security. The crime rate in Eugene had risen dramatically in the last few years, and she had slept easier knowing she wouldn’t be burglarized or raped in her own home. She would have to forgo that luxury for now. The drive to the compound would take almost two hours, and she wanted to get there before dark.

She swore out loud just thinking about the last five-mile stretch of road and what it would do to her car. David was doing this to her just because he could—because for once, she was in his debt. Elizabeth lit a cigarette and willed herself to be calm. She took a right on Franklin and headed toward Highway 126.

She limited herself to three cigarettes on the drive out, listening to jazz on the radio and pushing the Lexus to seventy-five on all the straight stretches. As worried as she was about McClure and what had gone wrong, it was David she kept thinking about. In some ways, he was like a spoiled little boy who expected to get exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. Yet he could be so tender and loving, it made her heart ache to remember.

They’d met in medical school, Elizabeth being the youngest student at twenty, and David one of the oldest at thirty. He’d noticed her right away and pursued her with a tenacity she had to admire. He’d been so handsome and attractive, gentle and never crude like other men. She’d fallen in love the first time he seduced her. Until she’d met David, Elizabeth thought of herself as damaged goods. Her few sexual experiences as an adult had been painful and frustrating. With David, she experienced her first orgasm, changing the way she felt about men, about herself.

Elizabeth rounded the last corner and pulled into the clearing in front of the compound. The sun was slipping below the horizon, casting an eerie light over the stone building. God, she hated this place. She would help David fix whatever his little problem was and be on the road. She wouldn’t stay overnight even if he begged. David needed to know she was angry with him for not calling, for making her drive out here. Reflexively, Elizabeth checked her face in the rear view mirror before getting out. It was too dark to notice anything except the fact that her lipstick was long gone. Fortunately, David liked the natural look.

She could hear singing as she entered the front double doors and breathed a sigh of relief. They were all in church, and she wouldn’t have to see or talk to anyone. David’s followers were sickeningly sweet and naïve. Elizabeth couldn’t stand their simple homespun chatter and open adoration of David. In fact, she believed religion was nonsense, and David had learned not to discuss it with her.

She went directly to his office to wait. Her presence had already been reported, she knew from past visits, and David would be along soon. Elizabeth tried to get comfortable, but the room was barren, dark—even with the light on—and cold. She lit a cigarette, knowing it would irritate David, and began to pace.

He surprised her by coming up his private stairs from the clinic instead of from the chapel. The sight of his handsome, worried face made Elizabeth set aside her anger for the moment and reach out to him. Without a word, they embraced. Their relationship, free of social expectations, had been forged over the years from respect, passion, and isolation.

Elizabeth had never known anyone like David. Not even the man she’d married had touched her as deeply. But she had things on her mind. She pulled away and demanded, “What went wrong? Why did you wait so long to call me?”

“Patience, Elizabeth. Everything’s fine now. Let me kiss you. It’s been so long.” He reached for her, but she shook him loose.

“Damn it, David. Tell me why I’m here.” Elizabeth wished she could ask for a glass of wine, but it would be a waste of time. Nobody in the church drank. Not because they couldn’t, but because David didn’t.

“I needed to see you.” David shrugged, discomfort creeping into his eyes. “Today was difficult for me. I had to remind myself why I went through with this dangerous thing.” Elizabeth stiffened, but he gently stroked her neck. “Your sister is a fighter just like you.” David paused to kiss her neck. Elizabeth chewed the inside of her lip. She was still upset that he’d tricked her into coming, but pleased that he wanted her in his time of need instead of one of his groupies. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for details. He would tell her the whole story eventually anyway.

“She almost got away from me on the trip to the compound,” David finally said. “Apparently I didn’t give her a large enough doses of ketamine and Versed. But I grabbed her again. She’s been adequately sedated and secured now. I’ve done a thorough examination and her ovaries seem healthy.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped with relief. McClure didn’t have the same ovarian scarring that she did. Her sister would ovulate on schedule, and everything would be fine. Elizabeth’s muscles began to relax under David’s steady caress. She leaned against him. His erection pressed into the small of her back, sending shivers through her. Elizabeth turned and embraced him. One touch and she lost control. She could go for months and not look at another man or think about sex. With David, she became a giant, pulsating need. He slid his hand under her skirt and squeezed her gently. Elizabeth groaned and spread her legs. She had learned not to be ashamed of her response, to take what fleeting pleasure she could. Nothing good lasted long enough to matter.

* * *

Carmichael hadn’t stopped thinking about money even during their lovemaking, except for those few minutes at the end when his body felt as if it were about to take flight.

“You were wonderful, David.” That was her cue for him to move away. He untangled himself and eased over. Elizabeth was the only woman he’d ever been with who didn’t like to cuddle after sex—or anytime for that matter. She claimed it was a mild case of claustrophobia, but Carmichael knew it was a basic fear of intimacy, probably a result of some childhood trauma. He’d never pressed the issue because he liked things the way they were. Elizabeth’s refusal to cling to him was one of her main attractions. Her intelligence and restrained beauty had caught his attention, but it was her rare combination of sexual submissiveness and emotional distance that kept him coming back, even while they were both married to other people.

Carmichael knew he had to ask now or her moment of softness would pass. “Liz, I need your help. The church is out of money, and I can’t keep the clinic going without funds.”

“You son of a bitch.” She sat up, grabbing the sheet to cover herself. “How dare you?” Liz turned and stared incredulously. “I gave you a half-million dollar inheritance! You didn’t have to spend every dime of it on the clinic.”

“Liz, we’ve been through this. You know how expensive
in vitro
equipment is.” He reached for her shoulders. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

She shook him loose with a violent jerk. “Whatever happened to the yearly donation that was supposed to end all your financial trouble?” Her dark eyes blazed as she held the sheet tightly over her breasts.

“It fell through. Apparently the United Christian Foundation got wind of our non-traditional doctrine about sex and procreation. Now I’m in a bind over a loan, and the bank wants to repossess my land.”

“Oh, David.” Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment as if that would make him go away. “Why do you keep buying equipment you can’t pay for? I understand the obsessive nature of research, but we all have to work within our budgets. I’m not bailing you out again.” She bolted out of bed and started pulling on clothes. Carmichael kept quiet, soaking up the pleasure of watching Liz, sleek and beautiful in her black slip, brushing angrily at her short bronze hair with crisp strokes.

When she stopped, he said softly, “What price would you have paid for an adoption? Fifteen thousand? Twenty?” Carmichael scooted to the edge of the bed and reached for his pants. “What about two or three failed IVF cycles? Thirty grand, easy. I’m only asking for ten. Just enough to make a couple of loan payments to keep us going until I can work something out with the pharmaceutical company.” He didn’t mention the money he had promised Zeke for helping him grab Jenna.

Elizabeth whirled around. “Don’t you dare put a price on my child! You owe me this favor.” She moved toward him and pointed an accusing finger. Her whole body was shaking. “I lied to the police to keep you out of jail when you lost your family. I gave you my inheritance so you could pursue your research ambitions. And I’ve supplied you with stolen sperm for years so you could impregnate your little groupies. You owe me!”

Carmichael fought to stay calm. Elizabeth hadn’t wanted her stepfather’s money, so he harbored no guilt there, but she knew that any mention of his first family was excruciating to him. He had to believe she was beside herself with anxiety. The impact of what they’d done, what they still planned to do, overwhelmed him at times too. He said the words out loud for the first time, reminding Elizabeth of the enormity of what she’d asked of him.

“I kidnapped your sister and I’m holding her hostage in the sanctity of my church. In time, I’ll harvest her eggs, fertilize them, and transfer the embryos to your body. That more than makes up for you getting me off the hook after the accident.” Carmichael grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders. “I think I’ve paid my debt. If you want your donor to have the hormones and medical treatment she needs, you’ll write me a check for a lousy ten grand.”

Carmichael kissed her hard on the mouth before she could respond. He was tired of fighting, tired of worrying about money. Liz would come through for him, he was confident. Right now he wanted to enjoy her slender body again while he had the chance. She resisted for a moment, pushing against his chest with her hands, but opening her mouth to his kiss at the same time. Carmichael slid his hands off her shoulders and began to massage her sweet breasts through the black silk. In a few seconds, she began making tiny moaning sounds and he knew he had her. Perhaps he could talk her out of fifteen thousand. Lord knew, he could use every penny.

* * *

Zeke stood just inside Carmichael’s office, too stunned to retreat and too furious to care about the grunts and groans coming through the partly open door. He’d come looking for the Reverend to let him know he was headed for town in the morning and he’d gotten an earful instead.