“If we could speak somewhere privately?” Blake suggested politely.
Blake and Abby followed Bain down a long, narrow hallway lined with closet-size offices, most occupied by severely stressed-looking men and women busy typing away at their computers. At the end of the hallway, they entered a slightly larger office where they took seats around Bain’s tiny desk. He had to remove a few stacks of papers so that they could all see each other. He sat back, glancing down at the screen of his smartphone as he waited for Blake to speak.
“First of all, I want to know how you got this story. And then how it got to a Dr. Dodd at Fairview Hospital.” Blake handed over the magazine copy that he’d gotten from Dr. Dodd—the one with the short blurb about Hancock’s death, which insinuated malpractice in the affair.
Bain took the copy from Blake. His stubby fingers reminded Abby of her attack at the hospital. She closed her eyes against the flash of images firing through her mind, but she couldn’t stop them. The fat fingers closing around her arm. She could still feel the bruise on her flesh even now. And those cold gray eyes...
“I don’t know who Dr. Dodd is and I certainly don’t know how this got to anyone.” Bain turned page after page of the magazine issue with an astonished look on his face. “This hasn’t come out and I didn’t authorize this blurb about you. I’m as stunned as you are, Dr. Jamison. In fact, I have the mock-up for this month’s issue right here. It releases next week, so of course it’s already been finalized, but you aren’t in it. This page is completely different.”
While Bain pulled the mock-up of the current issue up on his computer, Blake looked over at Abigail. “The missing piece?”
She nodded. “One of them.”
Bain showed them the current issue, which—as he’d said—did not include the small but damaging paragraph about Blake, Hancock’s death and Fairview Hospital.
“So, how could a doctor in Lancaster produce a magazine copy so convincing and with every other page of the issue exactly correct?” Abby asked.
“It had to come off our printer, I suppose? Or maybe someone here on staff?” Bain said. “But it’s completely against policy. Staff members are not even allowed to discuss articles, let alone distribute early copies or, even worse, tampered copies. I want to know who is responsible for this. This is exactly the kind of employee that will sell me out to the New Yorker and put me out of business.”
“Who usually writes these blurbs for you?” Blake asked.
“Freelance writers,” Bain said. “There’s one in particular that sort of comes and goes. A photojournalist. I can’t think of his name. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. I don’t like him. He writes a good story but he always goes too far. The NYW is about showing successes in New York. Not this.” He threw the phony magazine on the desk. “I’ll do anything you need, Dr. Jamison, to find the person responsible. I intend to get to the bottom of this.”
Abby leaned forward. “How about you start by calling Dr. Dodd and telling him what you just told us so that Dr. Jamison can get back to work at the hospital?”
Bain nodded. “Done. What else?”
“The name of the writer you’re talking about...” Abby said. “It doesn’t happen to be Daveux, does it?”
“Yes. That’s it. Phillipe Daveux.” Bain hit the top of the magazine copy with his hand. “This is exactly the sort of thing he likes to dig up. And if not him, one of the others in his little club, as we call it. You know they all hang together—that group of journalists and photographers.”
Abby and Blake exchanged glances.
“So, it might be worth our while to speak to him or to this group,” Blake said.
“I suppose. But I can assure you that copy will not be hitting the newsstands.”
“I’d still like to know how he got the information, if he is the one responsible,” Blake said. “Are you allowed to give us his contact information?”
“Daveux is not his real name. Let me check with Payroll.”
Bain picked up his phone and called Payroll. Seconds later, Bain checked his computer. “Payroll is going to email the information.... Ah, here it is. Lyle Morris.”
“Lyle Morris?”
“Right. Daveux is an alias,” Bain explained. “You know, a pen name. These guys dig up dirt on people like you but they don’t want you doing the same. They all use fake names to protect themselves and their families. So, do you want his info?”
Blake typed the address and phone number into his phone. They would have to work in another visit during their trip.
“Thank you, Mr. Bain. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
* * *
“What do you say we grab a bite before we go see Dr. Miles? This is one of my favorites.” Blake had the taxi stop in front of an elegant bistro.
“I’d say I thought you’d never ask. I’m famished. Also, we should probably let Langer know our additional plans, right?”
“We should.”
Blake was immediately greeted by the maître d’ of the little French restaurant, who made a little more fuss over him than was necessary. They sat, ordered and called Langer.
“Well, look who’s back in town and doesn’t call his friends?” A foursome of young men surrounded their table.
“How’s that country-doctor thing working out for you?” another of the men asked.
Blake smiled with reserve. “Abby, meet my partners. This is Bill, Sam, Devin and Artie.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” the one named Artie said, making big eyes. “Are you the reason Jamison took off to the country?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Abby is a nurse at Fairview Hospital. We’re here checking on a patient.” Blake ignored their efforts to belittle his sabbatical.
“Kind of a long-distance house visit.”
“Blake, you really need to look over all those files I sent you. The lawyer and business manager are tired of waiting.”
“I’ll get to it as soon as possible,” Blake said.
The others nodded, but even Abby could feel their frustration with Blake. If only they knew what he’d been through over the past few days, but she imagined they had no idea.
“Well,” one of them said as they moved away, “if you’re here tonight, a group of us are meeting up at the club after work. You should both come.”
“Thanks, but we’re not staying.” Blake shook his head. “Like I said, we are here on hospital business and have to get back to Lancaster tonight.”
His partners’ faces expressed mixtures of bewilderment, concern and perhaps even some amusement.
When they had gone, Blake sat down again and placed his napkin in his lap. “Sorry about those guys. They aren’t too on board with my sabbatical to Fairview.”
Their sandwiches came quickly and Abby found that she was even hungrier than she’d thought. Getting some food into her system seemed to recharge her spirits, too. What did she care if Blake was a rich New York doctor with lots of rich, good-looking friends? They just needed to find out what had happened back at Fairview so they could both get on with their lives.
She took a long drink of water, thinking over all the events of the past few days.
“You asked me what I’ll ask Daveux.... I guess the most important thing to get out of him is whether or not he knows how that information about Hancock’s death got to the magazine.”
“What?” Abby was still staring out the window, lost in her own review of the events, not listening. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking all that over. You know, we know why I’m a target. But why are you a target? Why does someone want you away from Fairview so badly? Maybe the information you need about your birth parents is at the hospital.”
Blake scratched his head. “I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I
should talk to Dr. Dodd?”
“Maybe...”
“Maybe?” Blake followed her eyes to the front desk, where the maître d’ pointed a long-legged brunette dressed in a gorgeous black fitted suit toward them.
“Natalie?”
“Yes. I’d bet a million dollars one of my partners thought this would be funny.”
Abby shrugged. “I’ll just go powder my nose and give you a few minutes alone.”
She started to stand but Blake grabbed her by the arm. He clamped his fingers on her tiny wrist and gently kept her from pulling away. Natalie was quickly approaching. Abby hated that her heart was beating so fast. She hoped Blake couldn’t tell what she felt inside. That he mattered to her. And that she was so happy that this woman was no longer his fiancée. Of course, what, then, was Natalie to him? And why was she here hunting him down?
SEVENTEEN
“Sit down, Abby.” Blake looked at her with pleading brown eyes. “Please? You don’t need to go powder anything. You need to stay right here. With me.”
Blake tried to silently plead with Abby to stay in her seat.
“Please?”
Abby sat back in her seat with reluctance.
“There you are.” Natalie stopped beside the table. Her eyes dropped down to where Blake held tight to Abigail’s hand. Her perfectly toned skin blanched.
“I suppose Artie told you we were here?” he said.
“He said you were here with a colleague.”
“Good old Artie.”
“Hi, I’m Abigail Miller. I work at the hospital where Blake is on sabbatical.” Abby wriggled her arm free and offered her hand to Natalie.
Natalie shook Abby’s hand but not without giving her the up and down. Abby slyly contained a smile at Natalie’s shallow behavior.
“So, here on business and you didn’t even call?”
“Why would I call you, Natalie?”
“We have a lot to go over for the gala.” She looked behind her, grabbed an empty chair and made a place for herself at the table. “We could talk now, if Miss Miller doesn’t mind?”
Abby shrugged. “Sure.”
“I mind.” Blake stood. He walked around Natalie and reached his arm around Abigail. “We have a two-o’clock appointment. I know this is short notice and I’m sorry for that, but I may not make it to the gala, Nat. You should ask someone else to introduce the keynote speaker.”
“What?” She stood as they walked away. “What about the foundation? Your parents? What will everyone say? You have responsibilities, Blake. You can’t just move to Tombouctou and think that everything you left behind will just take care of itself.”
Blake stopped. He looked at Abigail. He’d felt more peace with her in a week and with a killer after them than he’d ever had in New York City with Natalie and everything in the world at his fingertips. And yet, Natalie was right. He had responsibilities. He owed it to his parents to run the foundation and continue their work. Was there a way he could do that without falling into the trap of his old life?
“Don’t move,” he said to Abby. “Stay right here. Promise me.”
“And miss this? Are you kidding?” She smiled. But he knew Abby was uncomfortable and confused about his friendship with Natalie. If only he’d fully explained it before...
Blake sighed as he walked back to Natalie. “You’re right, Natalie. I do want to slip from these responsibilities for a bit. In fact, I have to. I have some things I have to figure out and I’m asking you as a friend to try to understand that.”
She looked over his shoulder at Abby. “Is she what you’re trying to figure out?”
He glanced back at Abigail, too. “Look, Nat, just cover for me at the gala. After that, I’ll get back to work with the foundation.”
“Then you’re coming back from Pennsylvania?” Natalie lit up.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you in love with her?” Natalie frowned disapprovingly. “She’s so...plain.”
“Goodbye, Nat. Thanks for taking care of the gala.” Blake walked back to Abigail. “We need to hurry to Dr. Miles’s office. It’s not in this part of town.”
He hailed a cab and followed Abby into it. “I’m sorry about all that back there.”
“All what? I told you before it’s none of my business.” Abby looked him square in the eyes. She was either really put off with him or she meant exactly what she said. Either way, he didn’t like it one bit. As soon as there was a chance, he was going to tell her the whole story, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
“You know, I haven’t seen Langer since we went into the restaurant. Should we be worried?”
“No. He knows our agenda.” They exited the cab in SoHo near St. John’s Park and began to walk the three blocks east to Miles’s office.
“Is that Langer?” Abby motioned toward a man standing outside of a deli just across the street.
“I can’t tell—he has his head down. But he had this address, so that would make sense that he...”
“What?” Abby asked him. “You look concerned.”
“I just thought I saw...” Dr. Granger. “Never mind. My eyes are playing tricks on me. You know, Abigail, you can ask me anything about my friends, including Natalie. Or about my life in New York. I can’t help but notice that you seem a little tense after lunch. I hope that wasn’t because of the unexpected interruptions.”
“I—I don’t have any questions, Blake. I’m tense because we’re in trouble and the detective assigned to escort us seems to be missing.” She looked at him with a matter-of-fact expression.
Blake dropped his head as he opened the door to Dr. Miles’s office. Apparently, she really didn’t care about him or his life here. And what did it matter? He had to come back to New York, back to his practice and back to the foundation. He owed it to his parents, and besides, it was important, valuable work.
Even if it could never make him fully happy.
* * *
Abby pushed away all thoughts of Blake’s offer to ask him questions about his life in New York. She’d seen plenty with her own two eyes. Now she just needed to figure this mystery out and get back to her clinic.
Dr. Miles’s office was warm and cozy, painted brightly in shades of orange and yellow. Three women in their second or third trimesters sat in the waiting room, reading on Kindles and iPads. Abby felt comforted by the scene—finally, something familiar to her, when the rest of New York had seemed like a foreign planet. A young and attractive nurse escorted them to a small office. They sat opposite the desk and Dr. Miles joined them in less than a minute. He was a big, white-headed and white-bearded man, jovial and handsome. He could have played Santa Claus at Macy’s without even applying any makeup. He even had a deep, jolly chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. All he lacked was the red suit. It made him seem familiar and Abby couldn’t help but think that she must have met him before.
“Dr. Miles,” Blake said after introducing the two of them. “I understand that about thirty years ago you were working in Lancaster County?”
His eyes opened wide but his smile never faltered. “That’s right. I wasn’t there for long. Just my first year out of medical school.”
“Do you remember delivering babies for any Amish families?”
“Well, yes. Yes, I do. Many.”
“Were any of those babies put up for adoption that you know of?”
He chuckled again and smiled wider. “That was a long time ago, son. But I don’t remember any. Of course, I’m not so sure I’d know about an adoption. I just went in and delivered the baby. I worked nights on call. I hardly knew the patients. I never saw the families after the babies were born. I wasn’t the main doctor. Just his night watchman, so to speak.”
“So, who was the main obstetrician for the practice?” Abby asked.
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Dr. Miles dropped his smile for a nanosecond, recovering his cheery disposition with another one of his chuckles. “It was a large practice. There were many others. I don’t remember all their names. So, why all the questions about my early career? I guess I misunderstood why you needed to see me. What exactly is this all about?”
Blake cleared his throat. “We work at Fairview Hospital in Lancaster and we’re trying to straighten up some incomplete birth files. Your name or your signature is on many of these incomplete records. I know it was a long time ago, but we were just hoping you might remember if some of the babies you delivered ended up going out for adoption. Several of these birth records you signed have Jane and John Doe listed as the parents.”
Once more, Dr. Miles’s eyes flickered and his jovial Santa Claus demeanor slipped away. This time, a sense of evil flashed across his face. Abby closed her eyes. Could it be? Could those gray Santa Claus eyes be the same ones that delivered a lethal injection to her arm? The voice sounded like the one she’d heard in that hallway—but was her mind playing tricks on her, making her think she was hearing similarities that weren’t actually there? Abby’s fingers tightened around the arms of her chair as she tried to remain calm.
“Did the hospital send you here?” Dr. Miles asked, his composure now completely returned.
“No, sir. This is more of a personal quest.”
“I see. Well, I may be able to help you.” He stood and pulled a buzzing pager from his waist. He turned his head away from them and Abby could no longer double-check his face for comparison with the doctor she’d walked in on in the closed-off wing of Fairview.
“Stay here,” he said. “I have some old files stacked away in storage. I’ll be right back.” He slipped out, shutting the door to his office behind him.
Blake was so frustrated he didn’t notice her shaking and still, seated in her chair. “Well, that was a waste of time. I’m afraid we aren’t going to get anything from Daveux, either. And this whole trip will have been useless.”
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