He expected her to keep up the conversation, but in a couple of minutes he could tell that she had drifted off to sleep.
11
Zachary had never been to the Westlake Women’s Health Center. Bridget had banked her eggs before her cancer treatment, but Zachary had not been welcome to go along with her. At that point, she had already started the break with him. Hints about how she couldn’t handle any extra responsibilities or focuses. That he was taking too much of her time and energy. She needed to focus on her treatment and recovery, not on Zachary. But he was not welcome to go to appointments with her. He wasn’t allowed to be a part of her medical decisions.
He thought at first that she didn’t realize what she was doing, pushing him away but, eventually, she had made it clear. He came home to find his belongings packed into bags at the front door. Bridget had removed her wedding ring. When he had tried to talk to her about it, she just shook her head.
“It’s not working out, Zachary. You know it’s not. We’re not happy together anymore. I need to focus on my treatment. You need to move on with your life.”
“We can still make it work,” Zachary had objected. “I thought we’d been doing better. I’m not going to abandon you in the middle of cancer treatment. I can help you.”
“You can’t help me. You can’t even help yourself.”
Zachary didn’t think that being able to address all of his issues was necessary for him to help Bridget, but she was firm. She didn’t want him there. She didn’t want him anywhere near her.
“Can I help you, sir?” The young woman at the reception desk was looking at him expectantly.
“Oh. I was wondering… my wife and I have been talking about maybe… you know, trying some fertility treatments. Seeing if we can get pregnant that way. But she’s nervous about all of this…” Zachary made a motion to indicate the clinic. “She’s worried about mistakes, privacy, that kind of thing. I’m wondering if I could get a tour, sort of an orientation of how it all works. So I can help show her there wouldn’t be any mistakes.”
The receptionist gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Can I get your name?”
“Do you get asked this a lot?” Zachary asked. “People must have concerns.”
“Yes, people naturally want to know how things are going to be handled when they have a procedure. It’s a very personal thing, and our patients want to know that they will be handled with respect and discretion and that their genetic material will be well cared for.” She stepped around the desk to shake his hand. “I’m Carole. And I didn’t catch your name?”
“John,” Zachary told her. “John Smith. And I’m not kidding, it really is. People always think I’m making a joke.”
“You wouldn’t be the first John Smith we had through here,” Carole laughed. “Why don’t you come with me to our welcome room. I’ll give you some literature to look over while I see who is available to show you around.”
Zachary was impressed. It would appear that she’d spoken the truth when she said that people often had similar questions.
“Thanks. That would be great.”
He followed her to a small boardroom, where she provided him with a cup of fresh coffee and laid a glossy folder full of brochures and other pages in front of him.
“You don’t have to read all of this,” Carole gave him a pleasant smile, “It’s just for your future reference, and something to get you started. Trust me; nobody reads it all.”
Zachary was glad of that. It was an impressive amount of literature. Most of it would have little to do with his investigation. He looked through the various pages as he sipped his coffee and waited for his tour guide to make an appearance. He pulled out his phone and glanced through his mail and his social networks.
He remembered messaging with Rhys, and pulled up the stream to see whether he had left the thread too abruptly and whether Rhys had posted anything after Kenzie had pulled him from the conversation. He tapped out a quick message to let Rhys know that they could talk some more later, so if Rhys was feeling like he’d been brushed off, he would be reassured.
The door opened, and a man in a white lab jacket entered. He had on a collared shirt and dress slacks underneath it. He wore glasses with thin black rims and carried a clipboard. Zachary’s overall impression was of a busy, competent doctor.
“Mel Banks,” the man introduced himself, holding out a hand to Zachary as he approached the table. “John?”
“Yes. Hi.” Zachary shook.
“So how can I help you today?”
Zachary again ran through his patter about his wife, shrugging and motioning at the clinic.
“Of course,” Banks agreed. “People are entrusting us with one of their most precious resources. That isn’t something we take lightly. I’m happy to give you a tour, but you should come back with your wife so she can see it for herself. That will help to put her mind at ease.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll come next time. But we live out of town, and she wasn’t feeling up to it today. I didn’t want to put it off, and had some time today, so…”
“Well, why don’t we talk about your journey so far. Do you have any other children?”
“No. We decided to start trying about a year and a half ago, and it was fun at first and we thought that everything would just happen naturally, but… well, it didn’t, obviously. By the time a year was up, my wife was getting anxious and had me set up an appointment with a specialist. I forget the name… it’s foreign-sounding. Starts with B, or maybe an M? She would be able to tell you.”
“Mbatha?” Banks suggested.
Zachary lucked out on that one, beginning with both an M and a B. He had learned that people would go out of their way to provide missing names, especially if you said that they sounded foreign. Throw in a couple of possible starting sounds, and they would throw all the names you could possibly need.
“That must be it,” Zachary said with a nod. If challenged on it later, he could say that he had thought that was the right name, but he wasn’t very good with names and it was his wife’s domain. He could easily have mixed up two foreign-sounding names. It was understandable.
“And what did Dr. Mbatha find? He did a full fertility workup for the two of you?”
Zachary nodded. “Yeah, and he said that probably if we did this….” He indicated his surroundings again. “There was a specific procedure that he recommended. He said we had a good chance of success. I’m afraid… I didn’t get all of the medical details.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shrugged his shoulders. “It all makes me a little uncomfortable, you know. All the stuff about women’s reproductive systems. I mean… I know my part, but the rest… that’s kind of her job. She’s the one who knows all of the… female side.”
Banks laughed. “You’re certainly not the only one who feels that way,” he assured Zachary. “We’re raised to see women’s bodies as something dirty. Messy periods, water breaking, things coming out of orifices. We do our part, like you say, and try to avoid thinking of the rest.”
Zachary nodded, his eyes down.
“But you’re here. That’s a good step. Good initiative, especially since your wife isn’t with you. Do you have specific concerns, or is she working…?”
“The timing wasn’t good for her, and we live out on a farm. I think… she wanted me to ask the initial questions. She says doctors talk down to women. They’re more likely to answer men’s questions without treating them like they’re ignorant. She’s really smart, you understand, but men treat her like she’s a child and doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Banks sighed. “Well, I hope you will assure her that she won’t be treated that way here. I understand it goes on, but… we are very patient-oriented here. We will treat her questions with the same respect as yours.”
“I’ll tell her. Although… maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. I’ll have to think about how to bring it up.”
“You take her home those brochures
and tell her she can call with any questions. If she prefers to talk to a nurse or a female doctor, of course that can be arranged.”
Zachary nodded. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”
“Good. Do you have any questions before we begin the tour? What are your concerns?”
“There was an article we saw, well, several articles, actually, about cases where the wrong sperm was used. Parents ending up with children who they were not both biologically related to. My wife doesn’t want to adopt or to have someone else’s baby. She is very determined about having a baby that is genetically ours. So… I suppose we want to know what controls are in place to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Banks was nodding along seriously. “Of course. It’s perfectly understandable she would be concerned about it. Those stories do hit the news every now and then, and we always experience repercussions here. There is an increase in calls from patients; we see a downturn in the number of people signing up for procedures. It’s really too bad, because those cases are very few and far between. We have never had a mistake at this clinic. There have been no lawsuits over the wrong genetic material being used. Never, in the two decades this clinic has been open.”
“That’s great. I’m glad to hear that.”
“We are very careful, and of course whenever a story like that comes out, we do an audit of our procedures, try to find any weaknesses. Find out the details of how the mix-up came about at the other clinic and make sure there is no way the same thing can happen here. And it hasn’t. We’re always doing our best to stay ahead of the game and be absolutely rock-solid on our procedures.”
Zachary gave a grateful nod and smile. But of course, he would hear the same thing from any clinic he went to. They would all claim to be rock-solid in their procedures. What doctor or businessperson would admit to being sloppy and frequently trying to recover from or cover up mistakes?
“Let’s take a walk around, then,” Banks offered, “and we’ll talk about procedures and audits that we have in place. I’ll show you everything.”
Banks led the way. Zachary followed, sometimes keeping up with Banks and sometimes lagging behind to have a second look at something or to see just how good their security procedures were.
12
Samples are collected in vials that are already labeled with patient identification numbers,” Banks showed Zachary the cupboard where the collection vials for the day had been set aside for use. “Each donor is asked to verify the number before beginning. Names are not used for privacy reasons.”
“And do people check the numbers? What if they can’t remember what their number is or would be embarrassed to look it up?”
“Well…” Banks looked troubled at this suggestion. “We find that people are generally concerned enough about avoiding any mix-ups that they will check.” He shook his head. “It’s impossible for us to know whether someone has really verified it or not. But that’s our procedure. It helps to… protect everyone.”
Which wasn’t true, of course. It was designed to put the onus on the patient. A way for the clinic to cover their butts. It protected them, not patients who were too excited, nervous, or embarrassed to remember their patient number or to look it up.
“We ask the patient to check at the beginning of every procedure,” Banks went on. “Every time we collect a sample or remove it from storage, the patient must verify it.”
“What about in the lab? They can’t verify everything that is done there.”
“Good point,” Banks admitted. “Of course they are not involved in any of the lab procedures, washing or prepping specimens, fertilization, any of the work done in vitro. We do have procedures in place in the lab as well, to ensure that a worker never has more than one couple’s genetic material out at the same time, and there is always a second worker to check the numbers to ensure that they have the right ones.”
Good if they wanted to prevent cross-contamination or innocent mistakes. Not something that would help if a doctor were interested in spreading his own seed.
“What kind of security is there for samples while they are in storage?”
“We have excellent security. Nothing is accessible by the public at any time. Someone could not break in here and steal embryos, for example. People are often worried about that. Those embryos are your potential children, and we treat them like your most priceless possession.”
“So who does have access to them?”
“Only medical professionals. No couriers or janitors or any non-professional staff would have access to the freezers. Or to fresh specimens.”
“But any of the doctors or nurses would be able to access any of the samples.”
Banks cocked his head, frowning. “Well, yes, they would be able to. They need to be able to access them for procedures.”
“And what procedures are in place to make sure that a doctor couldn’t access them for their own purposes?”
“What do you mean? The only reason they would need them is to perform a procedure for you.”
“What if he wanted to… sabotage them. Or contaminate them. Swap them. I don’t know. It seems like these things could happen.”
“Our doctors and staff are professional and very well trained. Something like that… would never happen.”
Zachary took a deep breath. He tried to look reassured, but he certainly was not. While they might be protecting themselves from accidental mix-ups, contaminations, or lawsuits, there didn’t seem to be any procedures in place to prevent intentional tampering. They just trusted that no one would try.
“We have check-out procedures,” Banks said tentatively. “Anyone removing a sample has to put their name on the sign-out sheet.”
“Who controls access to it?”
“To...?”
“To the sign-out sheet. Or the freezers or cupboards or wherever stuff is stored.”
“Well, there’s just a clipboard with a log, so we can keep track of who has accessed what…”
“So it’s just voluntary. You expect people to comply.”
“Yes. We’ve had no trouble that way. There wouldn’t be any reason for people not to sign the log…”
Zachary could think of a few. The rule-followers would be diligent about always signing the log, but others would be too lazy or distracted, or willfully disobey the rule to avoid detection.
“I guess that’s good,” he acknowledged. He didn’t want to put Banks on the defensive or for him to think that Zachary was anything other than what he claimed, a potential client who just wanted to make sure that the clinic was following some kind of procedure that would help prevent mix-ups.
Banks nodded.
As they continued the tour, Zachary watched for locks and other security measures, counted the number of people he saw back and forth, and assessed what other security measures they had in place. There didn’t appear to be any surveillance cameras to monitor the staff. And despite what Banks had said about the janitorial staff not being able to access the freezers, he didn’t see any measures that someone with a bump key or set of lock pickers could not get past. The janitorial staff probably had master keys for everything in the clinic anyway. Who else kept the lab and the sample room clean?
After the visit to the clinic, Zachary, as John Smith, promised to come back with his wife when she was available. He returned to his surveillance of Bridget. By this time, he didn’t expect to see her doing anything other than her usual meetings and social events. She seemed to have cut back on them, maybe finding the schedule too tiring now that she was pregnant. There did not appear to be another man in her life. Gordon would be happy to hear that.
But he had not answered the question as to who had fathered the babies. Had it been Gordon? A mix-up at the clinic? An intentional switch at the clinic? If it was the result of a mix-up or intentional switch, then which had been swapped? Bridget’s eggs or Gordon’s sperm?
Which of them was a biological parent to the twins?
And who had Huntington’s Dis
ease?
13
While he was watching for Bridget to come back out of the grocery store with her purchases, his phone rang. Zachary didn’t generally answer while he was on surveillance, not wanting anything to distract him from the job. But he didn’t think there was any danger of his getting distracted from Bridget. And he didn’t think she was going to do anything suspicious anyway. Even if she were having an affair, why would she meet her fling at the grocery store?
It was Mr. Peterson, one of Zachary’s old foster parents and the only one he had ever kept in touch with. Even though he had only been with the Petersons for a few weeks, their relationship had survived the decades. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson had divorced a few years after Zachary had been with them, and Lorne Peterson had gone on to meet Pat, the younger man who would become his permanent life partner. They had been together for so long that it was hard to remember sometimes that Mr. Peterson had ever been with anyone else. It seemed like something that had happened in a different life entirely.
“Hi, Lorne.” Zachary tried to call Mr. Peterson by his first name like he was always told to but, in his mind, he was always going to be Mr. Peterson.
“Zachary. Is this a good time? I should probably have waited until the evening.”
“You never know when I might be working in the evening anyway. This is fine, or I wouldn’t have answered.”
“Good. How are you and Kenzie getting along?”
“We’re fine. Maybe even better than usual,” Zachary said cautiously. Yes, he still screwed stuff up regularly, but he felt like he and Kenzie were getting closer in their relationship. Something that was evidenced by Kenzie telling him about Amanda and hinting at a few things about her parents. She had always kept those things out of their relationship before.
She Was at Risk Page 6