Shattered

by Joan Johnston

  “Only the mother was listed on the birth certificate,” Holly admitted. “Holly Gayle Tanner.”

  Jack felt acid in his stomach. “You didn’t name me as the father?” he muttered to Holly.

  She turned her back on the woman and said quietly, “I couldn’t take the chance that someone would find out and tell you. I’m sor—”

  “Don’t bother apologizing, Holly. It doesn’t make me feel any better. And it doesn’t change anything.”

  “Date of birth?” Shirlee asked.

  Holly gave her the year and the day, April 10.

  “Sex of the child.”

  “Female,” Holly said.

  “Ah, you’re in luck,” Shirlee said. “Your daughter registered when she was eighteen to meet her biological parents. She’s supplied her personal information in case you want to contact her.”

  “What’s her name?” Holly asked, leaning across the counter.

  “Savannah Whitelaw.”

  “That’s a pretty name,” Holly said.

  “Where does she live?” Jack asked.

  “According to the paperwork she filed, a place called Hawk’s Way.”

  “Where’s that?” Holly asked.

  “It’s a big ranch in northwest Texas,” Jack said. “A really big ranch. The Whitelaws are almost as wealthy—and notoriously powerful and influential—as the Blackthornes. There are a lot of Whitelaws with deep roots in northwest Texas.”

  “Who are the adoptive parents?” Holly asked. “Can we find that out?”

  “Her parents are listed as Jake and Hope Whitelaw.”

  “Is there a phone number we can call?” Jack asked.

  “Let me print this page for you folks, and you can take it with you,” Shirlee said.

  Jack waited impatiently for the ancient printer to warm up and for the two pages of information to print out. Holly intercepted the pages when Shirlee handed them over the counter, read through them and said, “Here’s the number.”

  “Let’s go back out to the car,” he said, eyeing Shirlee.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said.

  “It’s hot in the car. Let’s call from here,” Holly suggested.

  They crossed to a dusty table in the corner where adoption brochures had been set out and Holly sat down in a plain wooden chair beside it. Jack was too nervous to sit. “Give me the number,” he said.

  He dialed as she recited the numbers. “It’s ringing,” he said.

  She stood and looked up at him with anxious eyes, waiting with him to speak to their daughter.

  “Hello?” Jack said. “Is this the Whitelaw residence?” His lips quirked as he said, “I’m not selling anything. I’m looking for Savannah Whitelaw.”

  Jack held the phone so Holly could hear the responses.

  “Savannah isn’t here right now,” the woman said.

  “Are you her mother?” Jack asked.

  “Can you tell me why you’re looking for Savannah?” the woman said.

  “Tell her, Jack,” Holly whispered.

  “I’m her biological father,” Jack said. “Savannah’s biological mother and I would like to meet her, if that could be arranged.”

  “How wonderful! I hoped you would get in touch someday. But I’m afraid seeing Savannah may not be possible right now,” the woman said.

  “Why not?” Jack asked.

  “Savannah’s just finishing up some course work at the FBI Academy at Quantico. I think this week she’s involved in various tests and examinations for a Behavioral Science class.”

  “It’s very important that we speak to her. Can you give us a number where we can reach her?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Leave me your number and I’ll get it to her. She can call you when she’s free. By the way, what are your names?”

  “Jack and Holly McKinley.”

  “You’re married?” the woman said, surprised.

  “We are now,” Jack said. “We were kids then.”

  “I see,” the woman said sympathetically.

  Jack debated whether to tell the woman why they needed to see Savannah. But he was afraid she might talk their daughter out of becoming a donor before he and Holly even had a chance to meet her.

  “Thank you for your help,” Jack said. He gave the woman his cell phone number and disconnected the call.

  “Is that it?” Holly asked. “What if she doesn’t contact us?”

  “We’re not waiting for her call,” Jack said. “We’re going to Quantico.”

  34

  Holly felt utter despair for the second time in her life. The first time had been when she realized she was pregnant and there was no way she could keep the baby. This time, she was sure she had lost Jack forever.

  He wasn’t just angry with her for what she’d done. He was furious. And unforgiving. She was certain that if she hadn’t been about to fall down when she left the doctor’s office, he would never have touched her again. He’d moved back into the other bedroom.

  He’d spent the better part of yesterday afternoon making phone calls. With the help of his FBI friend Breed Grayhawk, he’d managed to arrange a meeting with Savannah Whitelaw at the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia, where she was in the Behavioral Science program.

  Breed’s father, who was the governor of Wyoming, had made some calls from his hospital bed at M.D. Anderson to get them the permission they needed to interrupt Savannah’s course of study at Quantico.

  The situation was complicated by the fact their daughter couldn’t leave at this stage in her FBI training without having to start the course of study all over again. Donating bone marrow was easier now than in the past, but Savannah would probably need a couple of weeks to completely recover afterward. It was questionable whether she would want to make such a sacrifice for a brother she’d never met.

  Nevertheless, Holly and Jack had gotten on a flight to D.C., then rented a car and driven the short distance through forested land to Quantico just to talk to her, in hopes she would agree to help save Ryan’s life.

  The chances Savannah Whitelaw’s HLA genes would match Ryan’s was only one in four. But Holly’s doctor hadn’t recommended she donate bone marrow because of her pregnancy, and Jack hadn’t been a good match. The search for a matching donor from the National Marrow Donor Program took time—months and sometimes years—that Ryan didn’t have. Savannah was their best hope of saving Ryan.

  Holly was mentally bracing herself, unsure whether Savannah Whitelaw would be as angry as Jack had been about her decision to give her up for adoption. Certainly she would be expected to provide answers to her daughter. She hoped she could convince Savannah that she hadn’t made her choice lightly.

  Holly sat next to Jack in silence, while they waited in a conference room at the FBI Training Center for their daughter to arrive. She tried to imagine how the pixie face she’d briefly seen, with bright green eyes and a button nose and a rosebud mouth, might have grown into a beautiful and confident young woman.

  “I wonder why she decided to become an FBI agent,” Jack said.

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “I hope I’ll have the chance,” he said. “Right now we have more important things to discuss.”

  The young woman who appeared in the doorway had anxious green eyes brushed by bangs and shoulder-length, sunstreaked chestnut hair. She had Holly’s nose, freckled and a little upturned, Jack’s high cheekbones, and a wide, mobile mouth. It was hard to see the bow, because she had her upper lip caught in her teeth. Holly held her breath waiting for her beautiful daughter to meet her gaze.

  Savannah was tall, maybe 5’11”, slender, but with an hourglass figure like Holly’s. Poor girl, Holly thought. She knew from experience that it would be hard for any man working with her daughter to ignore such generous feminine assets.

  Holly wanted to stand to greet her daughter, but her knees were trembling too badly to support her.

  Jack shoved his chair back and stood, staring raptly at their
daughter, eating the young woman’s face with his eyes.

  Savannah stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Holly saw that she was searching Jack’s features as intently as he was searching hers. She watched the young woman’s expressions, trying to discern her feelings. But her daughter was adept at hiding them.

  Savannah turned her gaze to Holly, who found her eyes suddenly blurred by tears. She grabbed for a Kleenex from her purse and dabbed at them so she could see.

  “I’m Savannah Whitelaw,” the young woman announced.

  “I’m Jack McKinley. Your biological father.” Jack’s voice broke. He swallowed hard, turned to Holly and said, “This is my wife, your biological mother, Holly Tanner McKinley.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” the young woman said with a hesitant smile.

  She didn’t have Holly’s strong East Texas accent, but her speech still possessed a soft Southern drawl.

  “I’d like to give you a hug,” Jack said. “Would that be all right?”

  Holly’s throat ached. She watched as Jack approached their daughter, who stood waiting for him, her eyes lifting the few inches to her father’s.

  Then they were holding each other. Holly could see that Jack’s eyes were wet as his strong arms closed around his daughter. Savannah’s eyes were equally bright with tears as she wrapped her arms tightly around her father’s waist.

  “I’ve wondered for so long what you would look like, who you would be,” she said with a half laugh, half sob. “It’s a miracle to see you both here.”

  Her eyes finally focused on Holly over Jack’s shoulder.

  Holly put her hands on the table and pushed herself upright, staggering slightly as her pregnancy sent her off balance. When she looked up again, she saw the shock on Savannah’s face.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  Holly realized in that instant that she’d lost her chance for a hug like the one Jack had received. Her daughter’s eyes were shuttered, and all signs of laughter were gone from her stunned face.

  Savannah pulled herself free of Jack’s embrace and took a step back. “What’s going on here?” she asked, looking suspiciously from one parent to the other.

  Holly exchanged a look with Jack, who seemed distressed by Savannah’s abrupt about-face.

  “Will you sit?” Jack asked, gesturing to a chair on the opposite side of the conference table from Holly.

  For a moment Holly thought the girl was going to bolt. Then her lips flattened and she sat down at the table across from Holly, who sank back into her chair.

  Jack took a seat close to Holly, so Savannah could see both of her parents at the same time.

  “I agreed to this meeting because I wanted answers to questions I’ve had all my life,” Savannah said. “I spoke with my mother, who speculated that you might have some specific reason for contacting me at this time. Is that the case?”

  Holly looked to Jack, imploring with her eyes that he do the talking.

  He turned to Savannah and said, “We have a six-year-old son, Ryan, who has leukemia. He’s going to die without a bone marrow transplant. Siblings make better donors than parents. We—my wife and I—were hoping you would be willing to get tested to see if you’re a good match. If you are, we wanted to ask if you’d be willing to donate bone marrow to our son.”

  Savannah looked down for a moment before she met Holly’s gaze and said, “I have wonderful parents. Now. But it wasn’t always that way. I still have scars—emotional and physical—from the nine years I spent in the foster care system.”

  Holly put a hand to her mouth to keep from wailing. This was her worst nightmare come to life.

  Savannah looked from Holly to Jack and asked, “Why did you give me up?”

  Jack glanced at Holly and she realized he wasn’t willing to paint her any blacker with the truth. But she didn’t want Savannah to blame Jack when he wasn’t at fault.

  “I never told Jack—your father—” she began.

  “Jake Whitelaw is my father,” Savannah interjected. “I want it clear that I don’t consider you my parents. Jake and Hope Whitelaw are my mother and father. They rescued me from hell and raised me with love. I would never have registered with the adoption agency, and I wouldn’t be here today, except that my mother convinced me you must have had a good reason for what you did. I’d like to hear it. If you have a good reason, that is.”

  Holly swallowed over the excruciating lump in her throat and said, “I never told Jack that I was pregnant with you. He’s blameless. He didn’t know you existed until yesterday.”

  Savannah turned her gaze to Jack and said, “That must have been quite a surprise.”

  “I’m sorry you had a hard time, Savannah. I wish…” He shrugged. “There’s no undoing what happened. I hope…that you’ll let me get to know you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Savannah said. “Would it have made a difference if you’d known about me all those years ago?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “Holly was very young. So was I. Neither of us had families who would have been much help to us with a baby.”

  Savannah turned back to Holly and said, “I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

  “I was fourteen when I found out I was pregnant with you. I wanted to finish high school and go to college and become a doctor. I couldn’t do that and keep you.”

  “So, did you become a doctor?”

  “I’m a pediatric oncologist,” Holly said.

  “Well, that’s something, at least. When did you two get married?” Savannah asked.

  “Jack came back for his fifteenth high school reunion and we met again. You would have been sixteen.”

  “Did you ever think about me?” Savannah asked bluntly.

  “Of course!”

  “Really? Do you know how I feel when I see that you kept another child—that you’re expecting a third child—when you gave me away? Furious, that’s how I feel,” Savannah said, her green eyes blazing, though she hadn’t raised her voice.

  Holly was afraid the next thing out of her daughter’s mouth would be a denial of the help they needed to save Ryan’s life. “Feel free to hate me,” she said. “I’m the one responsible, ultimately, for the bad start you got in life. I just hope you won’t take out your animosity toward me on your brother.”

  “He’s no relation to me.”

  “You carry the same blood!” Holly said fiercely. “Which is precisely why we sought you out. Telling my husband about your existence may cost me my marriage. I did it, despite the risk of losing the man I love, to save my son’s life. Ryan needs your bone marrow to stay alive. We’re asking you to be tested to see if you’re a match.

  “So, Miss Savannah Whitelaw, it’s your turn to make a choice that can have devastating consequences. How are you going to handle it?”

  Holly was surprised when Jack’s hand found hers beneath the table and squeezed it. He held on while they waited for their daughter to decide what she was going to do.

  A moment later, he must have remembered that she was the reason they were in this position, because he eased his hand free. Holly felt her heart sink. She was going to lose Jack. She might yet lose Ryan. And her grown daughter obviously wanted nothing to do with her. The future looked horribly bleak.

  “I’m going to have to think about this,” Savannah said at last. “If I leave Quantico now, I’m going to have to repeat this course. I have my own reasons for wanting to finish as quickly as possible.”

  “But—” Holly began.

  “I understand a life is at stake,” she interrupted. “But there are other lives that may be at risk if I don’t finish what I’m doing here.”

  “Are you working a case?” Jack asked.

  “I was before I came here,” Savannah admitted. “A rapist who’s become a serial killer. I thought I might get a better understanding of him if I learned more about psychological profiling.”

  “I’m a Texas Ranger,” Jack said. “I’d be glad to help, if I
can.”

  “I noticed the badge and the SIG,” Savannah said with a wry smile. “Thanks for the offer, but this is personal.”

  “Personal?” Holly asked. “You haven’t been—”

  “Not me,” Savannah said softly. “Someone close to me.”

  “Time is of the essence,” Jack said. “Every day Ryan gets sicker, weaker. He needs your help, Savannah. I don’t want my son to die.”

  “Fine,” Savannah muttered.

  Holly couldn’t quite believe her ears. “What did you say?”

  “I said fine. I’ll get tested.” She met Holly’s gaze and said, “You realize I might not be a match.”

  “We’ll deal with that if it happens,” Holly said with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Savannah. When can you come to Houston?”

  Her beautiful daughter shrugged and said, “How about right now?”

  35

  “She’s a perfect match!” Holly sobbed to Jack over the phone.

  “Why are you crying? It’s good news, right?”

  “The very best. I’m just happy, that’s all.” And overly emotional because of all the hormones her pregnancy had dumped into her system. She was in her office at M.D. Anderson. Jack was on the road in his SUV, running down another lead on J.D. Pendleton, who still hadn’t surfaced. It was beginning to look like D’Amato had arranged it so he never would.

  “What happens now?” Jack asked.

  “Ryan gets chemotherapy for about a week.”

  Jack groaned. “More chemotherapy?”

  “Busulfan and cyclophosphamide. It’s to rid his cells of any residual leukemia. And to destroy his immune system and create space for the new immune system—donor hematopoietic stem cells—that will grow healthy white blood cells.”

  “Destroying his immune system sounds dangerous,” Jack said.

  “It is, but the hospital will keep him in a sterile environment so he won’t be exposed to anything that could make him sick.” One of the great dangers to Ryan between this last round of chemotherapy, and the moment when the transplanted stem cells took over and began growing healthy white blood cells to protect him, would be bacterial or viral or fungal infections, any of which could kill him.