The scene in the hallway was increasingly chaotic. Two of the researchers from the laboratory had come out, in their sterile whites, with disinfectant and a roll of bandages. As they began to bind her wound to stanch the bleeding, her eyelids fluttered and she groaned.
"She's just in shock," Van de Vliet said with relief. "Ellen, page Michael and tell him to bring the ambulance around front. Just in case. But I think we can handle this here."
Now two nurses were rolling a gurney off the elevator. While Van de Vliet and the two lab researchers lifted her onto it, Ally realized that nobody seemed to think that calling the police-about any of this-would be a constructive step.
She pulled out the letter and examined it. The oversize script on the front readKatherine Starr, 169 East 81st St.There was no return address.
Katherine Starr. She was repeating the name and address, trying to lodge them in her memory, while she was pulling the letter out of the tan envelope.
It was in the same rotund script as the address:
Dear Whoever You Are,
I think you're my mother but I'm not sure. Please help me. I don't know where I am or what my name is. But I found a bracelet with Starr on it and I looked in the phone book. Your name sounded kind of familiar. I think I'm. .
"I'd better take that," Van de Vliet said, lifting the letter out of Ally's hands. "All her personal effects should be kept with her."
"Dr. Vee, OR one is open," Ellen was saying as she marched down the hall toward them. "Debra has the IV and oxygen ready."
"Good," he said, glancing at her for a second. As he did, Ally reached into Katherine Starr's purse and palmed the small black address book.
Then Van de Vliet turned back to her. "Let me see about her bleeding and then I'll try to explain. I now remember this woman all too well. It's all coming back like a bad dream I'd repressed. I pegged her as schizophrenic the minute I saw her, when she came here and tried to talk her daughter into leaving. She's paranoid and-"
"What was Kristen Starr here for?" Ally asked. "I actually did an interior-design job for her a few years back and she never mentioned any health issues."
"Actually nothing," he declared quickly. "She was having an early midlife crisis. I gather she'd had some kind of television program and her contract wasn't renewed. She'd decided it was because of her appearance." He shrugged and gestured with empty palms, Iike,How absurd but that's the way some women are.”It turned out we had a. . mutual acquaintance who told her about the stem cell procedure here at the institute. When he brought her in, I wasn't in a position to turn her away."
"That wouldn't be Winston Bartlett, by any chance?"
He nodded. "As a matter of fact. He writes the checks, so he has a certain amount of influence around here. As it happened, I had experimented with a procedure some years ago involving stem cells and the epidermis. There seemed to be a regenerative effect. And I thought there was a reasonable chance she might respond to it. Since we had clinical trials for other stem cell procedures already under way, it was easy to fit her in. But I had a lot more important things going on at the time than her cosmetic work, so I didn't pay much attention to her. Then she abruptly left, and since then I've had so much else happening, I just haven't thought about her."
"Was it not working? Is that why she left?"
"Some of the staff swore it was having results. The truth is, I wasn't following her very closely. In my honest opinion, stem cell technology shouldn't be used for cosmetic purposes. It borders on the obscene."
Whoa, Ally thought,according to Grant, you "experimented" with a procedure for the skin on yourself.And you've got the youthful-looking skin to prove it. Let's not have the pot calling the kettle black here.
"But if it was working, then why did she decide to stop?"
This story soundswaytoo pat, she thought.
"You'll have to ask someone closer to her. Maybe she didn't think it was."
"How about Winston Bartlett. I gather he's pretty close."
"Well, she's a touchy subject with him. Good luck." Van de Vliet hesitated and his face flushed. "But now I really have to get in there. I'm responsible for whatever happens around here. Particularly whateverbadthat happens."
He was heading down the hall.
"One last thing. If Kristen is here in New York, then how could I contact her?"
"I have absolutely no idea," he said over his shoulder. "If her own mother couldn't find. . Actually, you might check with the front desk. All clinical trial participants are here under a confidentiality agreement, which means that giving out any information about her would be a liability issue, but now. . See if they have a prior address they can give you. After she left, it never occurred to me to pursue her."
He was going through a door marked OR 1, but then he revolved back. There was a darkness in his eyes she hadn't seen before. "I guess I'm wondering why, exactly, you're so interested in this deranged girl. It has no bearing whatsoever on your own treatment."
"It's just something I'm curious about." She stopped, her emotions in a jumble.What is going on?" You know, I'm wondering if maybe we shouldn't start my procedure later in the week. All this. . guns and shooting. . is a bit much for me to take in." She looked at him. "I guess I can't remember ever seeing anyone pull a pistol on their doctor before."
"I can understand your disquiet," he said, his eyes dimming even more, "but I'd really hoped we could get started today. I should be free in an hour or so and we can-"
"I've given the blood sample you wanted, but I've just had the fright of my life. I want to go up and see Mom again and then I want a day to recharge."
Get hold of Stone, she was thinking,and then try to find Kristen. Something feels very non-kosher here.
"Just be aware," he went on, "that this procedure can't wait forever. I told you that we have less than three weeks left. At the end of the month, the clinical trials will be completed and this facility could be temporarily closed because of corporate restructuring."
What is he talking about, "corporate restructuring"?You 're pressuring me again, she thought.I really don't like that.
"It can wait for a day."
"All right. If you must. But that's it. We have to start tomorrow. Seriously." He came back and reached and took her hand. "This means a lot to me, Alexa. I really want to help you. And I truly think we can."
With that, he turned and walked into the OR.
She stood watching for a moment, and when he was definitely gone, she took the small black leather volume out of her waistband.
On a hunch she opened it to the first page and… sure enough, there it was, penciled in down one side: Kristy 555-1224. No last name and no address.
The rest of the book had only a dozen entries, so few that Ally wondered why Katherine Starr bothered carrying it. Compulsive, maybe.
She couldn't wait to get to her car and get on the phone to Stone.
Kristen Starr could well be the mystery patient he was looking for. In any event, she was missing, freaked out, unsure who she was, and probably in a lot of trouble.
But now they had a phone number.
Chapter 19
Wednesday, April 8
12:32 p.m.
"You think you've gotwhat?" Stone Aimes sounded like he'd just won the lottery. "For the patient who was 'terminated'? My God, Ally, you're incredible."
"Possibly. But what IknowI am is very worried. For one thing, if this is the person you're looking for, the one who got dropped from the trials, it's somebody you've probably heard of, and for another, I've just had a series of very disturbing experiences. . "
She'd called him on her cell phone the minute she cranked up her Toyota to return to the city. She couldn't get away from the Dorian Institute fast enough.
After leaving Karl Van de Vliet, she'd taken the elevator up to the second floor to check in on Nina.
"What's all the excitement?" her mother had asked. "One of the nurses just told me that a deranged woman with a gun barged into the
lobby looking for Dr. Vee. Then she shot herself."
“It's nothing, Mom. Everything is all right now." She hadn't wanted to upset Nina, but she was convinced Karl Van de Vliet had just done some major lying. His uneasy body language told her he knew a lot more about Kristen Starr than he was admitting; for that matter, Debra Connolly probably did too.
"Well, thank goodness," Nina had said. "Are you going to start the procedure for your heart today?"
"Not yet. I want another day to think about it. But tell me how you're doing really. I mean, are you comfortable with how everything's going here? You can still stop if things don't feel right."
Ally half wanted to get her out of the Dorian Institute immediately. She didn't know what either of them had stumbled into. She just knew now that, along with the possibility of miracles, the Dorian Institute had a lot of questions that needed straight answers. She no longer trusted Karl Van de Vliet. She had seen his facade crack momentarily and what lay beneath it made her very uncomfortable.
Furthermore, she thought he realized she knew he was lying. And it seemed to make him even more desperate to keep her there.
"Ally, what a silly thing to say. Of course I want to stay." She'd fluffed up her pillow and reached for the TV remote. "Some of the smoke has already been blown out of my mind. I'm feeling clearer by the minute."
There's surely got to be some "placebo effect" at work here, Ally thought. But still, she does seem more aware.
"Okay, Mom, I'm going back into the city now. But I'll be here tomorrow and every day to check on you. Just don't. . don't let them do anything to you that seems strange."
With that, she had given Nina a kiss on the forehead and taken the marble stairs down to the first-floor reception.
It was now time to find Kristen Starr.
The nurse at the desk was a woman named May Gooden. The main floor had returned to normal after all the excitement, with patients passing through as they came back from the cafeteria.
Ally had decided to try a long shot and see if she could pry out any information about Kristen from the patient files. She asked point-blank.
"I guess Dr. Van de Vliet was not aware of the legal strictures in our NIH agreement," May had said. "No personal information can be released without a patient's signed authorization."
"You do remember her being here, though? Kristen Starr."
"My Lord, that's not something that goes unnoticed. She had an assumed name but everybody knew who she was. A nice girl. Nicer than you'd expect from seeing her on television."
"So when, exactly, did she leave? Surely you can tell me that harmless piece of information? It was several months ago, right?"
May got a strange look in her eyes. "Who told you that?"
"I. . I was downstairs when her mother showed up. I just got the impression that it was-"
May glanced furtively around. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but the truth is, I think she was still here until just a few days ago. She was down in intensive care. No nursing staff is allowed down there, just those medical-research people he has working for him, what some of the nurses call the Gang of Four. But they brought her up in the elevator and then an ambulance took her away."
"When, precisely, was-"
"I've said too much already." She glanced around again. "And I can assure you that Kristen didn't sign an authorization to give out her personal information." She abruptly turned frosty and officious, as though rethinking how open she'd just been. What was she afraid of? "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some things I need to do."
Ally had nodded and thanked her and split.
Thus the search had already produced an interesting factoid. Karl Van de Vliet was most assuredly engaged in the practice of a big lie about Kristen. .
*
"Maybe you should start by telling me about the disturbing experience," Stone was saying.
As the shadows of the trees that lined the leafy driveway glided past the Toyota's windshield she told him about Katherine Starr and Kristen Starr. She also told him the disparate versions of Kristen's departure as recounted by Van de Vliet and May Gooden.
"Sounds like they've got a situation," Stone declared. "They're trying to hide somebody who's well known. But you've got a number?"
"Like I said I palmed Katherine's little black book and it's got what could be the last known phone number for Kristen. Since she probably left the institute in an ambulance a few days ago, I doubt if she's at that number now, but it's someplace to start. I assume the area code is two-one-two. There're reverse directories where you can find the address for a phone number, right? In fact, I think there's a site on the Web that-"
"Leave that part to me. If the number's still good I'll have it in five minutes. Then I'll call you back and maybe you could meet me there, assuming it's somewhere in the city. Just give me your cell number."
She did and then clicked off the handset.
My God, she thought,that's the first time I've "given my number" to a man-not a business acquaintance-since Steve died. Okay, there were dinners with a couple of bachelor clients that turned out to be more than dinner. But neither relationship had lasted past a month. Both the men, nice guys, had complained she wasn't there for them-she wasn't-and had broken it off.
She meditated on that as she went through the iron gates (which opened automatically) and headed down the leafy, twisting roadway leading to the expressway.
She also found herself wondering what Stone Aimes was really like. There was an openness now that made her feel comfortable-though maybe that was just his deceptive reporter's manner, his calculating way of getting below her radar. He'd definitely picked up a few social skills over the past years. God knows he needed them.
Whatever was going on, it was good to have him around again. There was something different about talking to him than talking to Jennifer, though Ally wasn't quite sure what it was-and she was afraid to think too hard about it. But whatever that difference, it was one of the million reasons she so missed having Steve around.
Because if there ever was a time when she needed somebody to talk to. .
Why am I thinking all this?she chided herself. I'm trying to psychoanalyze him and put him in a category when I don't know the first thing about what he's actually turned into after all this time. Is all the warmth and sincerity for real? Back in the old days he'd make nice whenever the stakes were low, but then when he had something on the line, he'd push as hard as he needed to get what he wanted.
Well, she reminded herself,I'm that way too. That was part of our problem.
The phone beeped.
"Voila," Stone's voice announced. "I got an address in the West Village. It's Two-Seventeen West Eleventh Street. The phone is unlisted but it's billed to her name, so you were right about the number. And get this, it hadn't been turned off. So I thought, idiot, why don't you do the obvious and just try calling?"
"But her mother said she'd disappeared. . "
"Well, that's highly plausible. There's an answering machine there with a very strange message. It doesn't give a name, but it's a woman's voice and it's like acri de coeur. She's away but she-quote-“can't say where.” You should listen to it."
Greenwood Lake Road had now become Skyline Drive, for no discernible reason, and the traffic was picking up. Ally put on some speed and passed a truck.
"I'll do that. But we don't actually know for sure if it's the same Kristen Starr, though it surely has to be. Did you recognize her voice?"
"I've never watched her cable show. I just sort of know who she is. But you'd better listen to her announcement. How could there be two screwed-up young women named Kristen Starr in the same town, even if it is New York?"
"I'll listen. It's got to be her, though. Give me the address." She hesitated a moment after he did then, "Would you like to meet me there? I think I could probably make it in an hour, or an hour and a quarter to be safe. We could ask around see if anybody in her building or the neighborhood has any idea what's going on
with her. Maybe somebody's seen her."
"I was supposed to head into the office, but nothing could keep me away," he declared with enthusiasm.
A patrol car was speeding by in the opposite direction, siren blaring. She waited for the noise to subside.
"Great. I'll try for an hour. Unless the traffic really gets crazy. You never know what to expect at the GW Bridge, even in the middle of the day."
She clicked off the phone, then checked the number in the front of the black address book and punched it in.
The phone rang twice and then an answering machine started. The voice making the announcement sounded thin, tiny, and fragile. Just hanging on. It was the verbal equivalent of the loopy handwriting on the letter, a transparent attempt to bolster nonexistent courage.
"Hi. I'm away for now-I can't say where-and I'm not sure when I'll be back. But you can leave a message or whatever, in case I get a chance to pick them up at some point. Or you don't have to. That's okay too."
What an odd thing to say, Ally thought. It's like she s trying not to sound too needful.
But it was definitelytheKristen Starr. The slightly ditzy tone was right there.
Next came a long series of beeps as the machine proceeded to rewind.
This is surreal, she thought. I'm about to leave a message for a person who's God-knows-where.
While the machine beeped, she tried to rehearse what she wanted to say, to make it as non-threatening as possible. Finally the machine stopped rewinding.
"Kristen, hi, my name is Ally Hampton. You may remember I did an interior-design job for you when you lived in Chelsea. CitiSpace? I just met your mother. She got your letter."Should I tell her about the gun accident?Ally wondered. No, she's weirded-out enough already."Your real name is Kristen Starr. You seemed a little confused about that in your letter to her, which I read part of. You'd been at the Dorian Institute in New Jersey. Listen, it's really important to me, and to your mother, that you get in touch. I'd like to help you if I can, because from what I saw of your letter. . Anyway, let me give you my cell phone number. If you pick this up, you can call me anytime, night or day. It's-"
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