She saw the trap a mile away. If she said yes, she believed the patients would decline to participate, she was admitting the research was improper. If she said no, she believed they would have gladly participated, then why hadn’t she simply obtained consent? It was one of those lawyer trick questions she always saw on television.
“You mean ‘when did I quit beating my wife’? The simple truth is that trying to obtain consent from dementia patients is a risky business. They may have had the capacity to consent at the outset, when they agreed to the blood draws, but once a patient finds himself or herself on a locked dementia ward—well, Athena can tell you, that patient is unlikely to recognize family members or know what year it is, let alone consent to participate in a research study.”
“And you think that’s a justification to disregard their autonomy?”
“No, that’s not what I said. I stand behind my work. The Common Rule doesn’t require me to obtain consent from deceased people—it’s as simple as that. And I really don’t have time to argue about it with you. My work is time-sensitive and, frankly, too important to allow myself to get mired down in complying with unnecessary regulations. I complied with the requisite rules. My IRB hasn’t said otherwise.” She stood and turned to Athena. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
11
Leo thanked his mother-in-law and tried to steer her out the front door. She’d had her coat on for at least ten minutes, but she was doing a cooing version of the cha-cha. One step toward the door, two steps back for one last cuddle with Finn and Fiona, who were happy for the interruption to tummy time.
“Valentina,” he began as she turned away from the door and crouched beside Finn to perform the universal peek-a-boo gesture.
She looked up at him with large green eyes so like her daughter’s. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m sure you’d like to get on with your day. Silly Grandma.” She eased to standing. “Anyway, Leo, call any time you need a hand. I just love spending time with the twins.”
He considered her for a moment. Then he said, “Actually, I was just wondering if you’d like to stay and join us for dinner. Sasha should be home pretty soon.”
Her entire face lit up, and she graced him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, Leo, I’d love to. Pat is over at Sean’s helping him rewire his dining room chandelier. I was planning to zip by Panera and get some soup for myself.”
“Not on my watch,” he told her. He held out his arms, and she deposited her coat into them then kicked off her shoes and joined the babies on the floor.
He hung her coat and then headed to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal. He’d roasted a large chicken in a pan with autumn vegetables, planning to have leftovers for his lunch for the rest of the week. There’d be more than enough for Valentina.
As he dressed the salad and set the table, his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket.
“Connelly,” he said, balancing a stack of plates in his palm and sliding the phone between his shoulder and neck.
“It’s Hank.”
“What’s going on?” He glanced at the time display on the oven. 5:45. Since adopting the six Bennett children, Hank rarely worked past four o’clock. He did, however, make exceptions for national security emergencies. “Is something going down?”
“What? Oh, no. The kids are over at the neighbors on a scavenger hunt. I checked my messages and already had the results on that search we talked about, so I figured I’d give you a call while I can hear myself think.”
“Already? That was fast.”
Hank chuckled. “I may have put a rush on it. Anyhow, he’s clean.”
Leo knew better than to say Wynn’s name on an unsecured line. “No flags?”
Hank huffed out a breath. “No flags. But it’s a slim file. He’s got a year of birth of 1948, but from birth until mid-1975, your guy was a ghost.”
“Meaning?”
“For the first twenty-eight years of his life, he may as well not have existed. No school records, no driver’s license, no draft registration. Nothing.”
“You think he’s a spook?”
“It crossed my mind. He could be one of us.”
Leo pondered the possibility. If another federal agent had information about his father, why wouldn’t he just go through official channels? Unless the information could cast a shadow on Leo and endanger his own standing. Even though he was a contractor now, he’d been a federal marshal for several years—this could be an effort to protect him.
Valentina poked her head into the kitchen. “Leo? Do you need any help in here?” She noticed the phone to his ear and mouthed ‘sorry’ before retreating to the living room.
He waited until he heard her resume her high-pitched stream of chatter directed at the twins then lowered his voice a notch and said, “You think it’s safe to meet with this guy?”
Hank answered instantly, as though he’d been waiting for the question. “Ah, heck, Leo, I don’t know. It’s a risk. How big of one? No telling. All I can say, is this guy doesn’t have a record or anything approaching a flag. He’s allegedly a retired fisherman, apparently did well enough to buy that house in Maine with cash.”
Cash home sales were yet another tell that suggested Wynn was, or at least had been, undercover at one point in his career.
“Hmm. Nothing on the prints?”
“Oh, we got some hits on the prints. All yours. Do you need a refresher?”
Leo ignored the jab. “Thanks for the intel.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He knew Hank intended for his words to serve as a literal admonition. They’d both have some explaining to do if Hank’s database queries traced back to Leo’s personal life. The government tended to frown on using their resources for personal purposes.
“Understood.” He eased the roasting pan out of the oven and rested it on the stovetop.
“Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
“And Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“If you go up to Maine to meet this guy, take a friend.”
“Right.” Leo had no plans to travel to Great Cranberry Island without his Glock.
12
Sasha was typing up the notes she’d taken at Golden Village when she felt someone watching her. Naya stood in the doorway to her office balancing a stack of files in her arms. She wore an expression that said she was trying to figure out how to broach a touchy subject.
“What?”
“What what?” Naya responded.
“Come on, I know that look. What’s on your mind?”
Sasha had an inkling that Naya might suggest it was time to hire an actual legal assistant instead of piling that work on top of her own associate workload. And Sasha tended to agree. But what Naya actually said was completely unexpected.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know Mac, just thinking about what Dr. Allstrom said. She has a point.”
Sasha searched her memory. It was entirely possible that the self-righteous geneticist had a point. But if she’d made one, it had been obscured by her didactic delivery. “About—?” she finally prompted Naya.
“About the need to get a dementia drug to market as quickly as possible. You don’t understand what something like that could mean to people.” Her voice quavered.
Naya’s mom. Of course.
It hadn’t even dawned on her that visiting Golden Village would exact an emotional toll on Naya. “Naya, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. That had to have been hard to sit through.” Sasha’s cheeks burned with shame. Some friend she was. Naya had watched her mother deteriorate slowly over several years, her mind ravaged by Alzheimer’s, caring for her around the clock until her death a few years back.
“Don’t be sorry. You were doing your job, and so was I.” Naya’s eyes flashed a warning—sympathy wasn’t what she was looking for.
Sasha closed her notebook and walked around the desk to join Naya at the door.
“Right,
we were doing our jobs. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings.” She placed a light hand on Naya’s shoulder, half expecting her to brush it off.
But she didn’t. Instead, she took a long, shaky breath. “This isn’t about my feelings. My mama’s gone. But there are other families out there—families who would give anything to get their parents back.”
“No doubt. But there are also families out there who feel betrayed that their parents’ final wishes weren’t considered or, worse, were disregarded. No one’s saying Dr. Allstrom’s research isn’t important or necessary, because it is. She just needs to follow the rules.” Sasha was careful to keep her voice even and devoid of emotion.
All the same, Caroline slowed her pace as she passed by on her way to the supply closet, as if she could tell trouble was brewing.
“The rules? You mean the rule that she has to ask dead people to consent to her using their tissue and blood samples? That’s not even required by the letter of the law.” Naya’s narrow shoulders shook and her chin jutted forward.
Sasha took her time forming an answer. While she was still thinking, Caroline returned with her box of pens and paused behind Naya.
“This sounds like that Henrietta Lacks situation,” the secretary remarked.
Naya and Sasha turned and looked at her.
“Who?” Sasha asked.
“Henrietta Lacks. She died of ovarian cancer years ago, but researchers used her cells to create the HeLa cell line without letting the family know. It really affected her children to know that pieces of her were just out there … floating around. Some journalist wrote a bestseller about it.” Caroline gave her head a small, sad shake. “My book club read it last month.”
“I remember hearing about that,” Naya said slowly. She chewed on her lower lip. “I understand what you two are saying, but this research Dr. Allstrom’s doing could change people’s lives.”
“It’s a slippery slope, though. The law requires informed consent for good reasons. You may be right that Dr. Allstrom’s actions comply with the letter of the law, but they definitely violate the spirit of the law.” Sasha paused and considered what she was about to say. “All that being said, if you feel like you can’t work on this case, I’ll understand.”
Naya stiffened, and Caroline hurried away, out of the danger zone.
“I didn’t ask to get off the case.” Her tone was measured but her jaw was clenched.
“I know you didn’t. I’m offering.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She locked eyes with Sasha. “I think a lot of people could end up suffering needlessly if Allstrom’s work gets bogged down in red tape because of us.”
Naya turned and walked away.
She’d said ‘because of us,’ but Sasha knew what she’d really meant was ‘because of you.’
* * *
Sasha eyed her husband over the top of her wineglass. Something was going on with him. He’d been jittering his right leg under the table since they’d sat down for dinner. And now he was squaring his utensils and plate so as to ensure his place setting was perfectly aligned. The last time she’d seen him this agitated was the night they’d met. That evening, she’d chalked his nerves up to the fact that they’d just found a dead body in a Dumpster, but he later told her it was because he thought she was cute. Leave it to Connelly to be unfazed by a corpse but rattled by a girl.
She turned her attention to her mother, who seemed to be oblivious to her son-in-law’s nervousness. Whatever was on Connelly’s mind, it was probably best left unsaid until her mom left.
“Thanks for watching Finn and Fiona today,” she said.
Valentina waved a hand and glanced at the twins, who were sound asleep on their blanket on the floor. “They were dolls. It was easy—and fun.”
Sasha gave her a knowing look. Taking care of twin two-month olds was sometimes fun, but it was never easy. “It looks like you wore them out.”
Her mother covered a small yawn with her perfectly manicured hand. “They wore me out, too. In fact, I hate to eat and run, but I really should get going. Dad texted me that he was leaving Sean’s a half an hour ago. If I leave him home alone too long, he’ll eat his way through a container of ice cream.”
She stood and pushed in her chair then folded her napkin into a tidy square and placed it on the table. “Thanks for the delicious meal, Leo.”
He came around the table to hug her. “You’re sure you can’t stay for coffee and cookies? Your daughter’ll make me eat fruit for dessert if you go. Stay. You’d be doing me a favor.”
Valentina giggled and patted his arm. “Fruit’s better for you anyway.”
Sasha retrieved her mother’s coat from the hall closet and met her at the door with it. “Have a good night, Mom,” she said as she helped her into her coat.
Her mom leaned in and presented her cheek for a kiss. “You, too, sweetheart.”
Sasha wrapped her sweater around her body, hugging it tight against the chill and watched from the porch as her mother got into her car. She waited until Valentina had pulled out and rounded the corner before going back into the warm house.
Connelly was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.
“I’ll finish that,” she said.
As she approached the counter, he blocked her with a playful hip check. “I’m done now.” He added a dishwasher pod and started the machine.
“Just like a blister. I show up when the work’s done,” she smirked.
He shook his head and topped off her wine. “Here, finish off this bottle. Unless you want to join me for a scotch.”
Uh-oh. Scotch. Either they were celebrating something or whatever he was nervous about was really bad.
“Wine’s fine for me.”
While he poured his drink, she checked on the babies; they were still sleeping. Finn had rolled to his side and thrown an arm around his sister. Her heart squeezed at the sight.
She joined Connelly in front of the fire and leaned in close. “So, what did you have to tell me?”
“Tell you?” he echoed.
She cocked her head. “Come on, Connelly. You don’t think I can tell that there’s something on your mind? You did everything but pull out a ruler to line up your silverware at dinner.”
He chuckled and shook his glass gently, swirling the liquid inside around the lone ice cube. “Hank got back to me about my dad. Well, about Doug Wynn.”
“And?”
“As far as he can tell, Wynn is clean.”
“That reminds me,” she said, “Naya wasn’t able to find out anything about Mr. Wynn, but she did manage to figure out how he found you.”
He looked up from the glass with an expression of mild surprise. “She did? How’d he track me down?”
“My mother.”
“Pardon?”
She took a sip of wine. “Apparently, my mom announced the twin’s arrival to her church. I think she sponsored altar flowers in their honor, if I remember correctly. Anyway, the church newsletter—which is available as a public PDF on the website archives—lists our address in case anyone wanted to send a gift or card or drop by with a dish.”
He nodded slowly, and she knew he was remembering the outpouring of dinners, tiny, adorable outfits, and soft, handmade blankets from the parishioners of St. Mark’s. “Honest mistake. But even if the bulletin or whatever it was listed our names, how’d this guy know that Leo Connelly is me? I mean, that I’m the kid of this guy he might know?” He shook his head at himself. “Do you follow?”
“How’d he know you’re looking for your dad?”
“Right?”
“I’m not sure he did,” she said, rocking back in the Amish-made rocker her parents had given her as a baby gift. “I think, assuming he does know your father, he would know your mom’s name. And she had no reason to hide her whereabouts. Naya tells me it’s pretty easy to find information about her online—including the fact
that she had one son, Leonard.”
He was staring into his glass again.
“Connelly?” she prompted when he didn’t respond.
“Sorry. Yeah, that follows. I know she said she tried to get the news that she was pregnant back to my dad. When I was sixteen, she gave me his first name and the name of the village where he lived. That’s all she had. I guess it’s conceivable that he did learn about my conception.” He gave a little laugh at his own play on words. “But why reach out to me now?”
She didn’t have an answer for that. “I don’t know. Why not now? What is his name, anyway?”
“Duc.”
“Duc,” she repeated. She rocked forward and stood. Then she walked over to Connelly’s chair and perched on the arm. She rubbed his shoulders and then rested her hand on his forearm. “Are you going to go meet Wynn?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Yes, I am.”
He grabbed her hand between his and stared hard at her face. “That’s crazy. We don’t know anything, really, about this guy or what he wants. And, what exactly do you intend to do with the twins?”
“Bring them.”
“What? No. No, no, no.”
“Yes.”
“Sasha—”
She cut him off. “Listen. If you think I’m letting you do this alone, you’re the crazy one. This guy could have good news about you father. Or he could have bad news. Or it could be a scam. Either way, though, we’re in this together—for better or worse. I’m going to be there for you.”
“You can’t drag the babies to coastal Maine in late October—it might as well be the dead of winter up there.”
“I’m fairly certain even coastal Maine has hotels—they’re probably even heated.”
“Great Cranberry Island? That sounds like a hopping tourist destination to you?”
She waved off the question. “I don’t know. If there’s no hotel, I’m sure we can rent a house from a private owner. Don’t get mired in the details. Caroline can make the arrangements tomorrow. Hank will be happy to watch Mocha, and Naya can come over to feed Java while we’re gone.” She bounced a bit on the arm of the chair, buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a trip.
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