SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby (6 page)

A rude noise greeted this remark.

“It can’t pay all that much, anyway.” Lock stretched his leg and massaged the thigh. Although it hurt less these days, it still felt tight.

“I’m not doing it for the money, which is about a hundred dollars per specimen, if you must know,” Mike said.

“Then why?”

His brother’s blue-gray eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Does it matter?”

“It must matter to you, or you wouldn’t go through this,” Lock stated.

“I’m helping women and couples have families. Isn’t that enough of a motive?”

“No.”

Mike gulped the juice and set the glass in the sink. “The idea’s fascinated me ever since I heard the hospital was opening a sperm bank.”

“Does this have to do with Patty’s husband working there?” Lock queried.

“He’s an embryologist. Different department,” Mike said. “Okay, here’s the deal. After spending years helping out with foster kids, I have no desire to be a father. But I’m arrogant enough to want to pass along my gene pool.”

Hence the health kick and the medical history. “What if your kids come looking for you someday? Or a woman demands child support?”

“There are laws protecting my rights and theirs.” Those issues didn’t appear to trouble him. “Think about it. I come from a high-achieving family with no history of drug or alcohol abuse. All but one of my grandparents lived into their eighties in good health. Why not pass those genes to another generation?”

Lock had a ready answer. “I can’t imagine knowing you’ve got a kid out there, or maybe several kids, that you’ll never meet. Wouldn’t you wonder every time you see a child whether it might be yours?”

“I think having a lot of kids would be cool, as long as I don’t have to take care of them,” Mike returned evenly.

Surely he hadn’t weighed all the implications. “Suppose you get married. How do you think your wife will feel about this?”

“I tried marriage. Didn’t work for me.” Mike’s marriage had fallen apart after he’d caught his wife having an affair. In the years since then, he’d dated only casually.

Lock wasn’t finished. “You grew up with foster kids. You saw what being thrown away does to them.”

“I’m not throwing anyone away. I’ll be making a donation to women who badly want a family,” he replied smoothly.

“You have no idea what it’s like not knowing where you came from or what your real parents were like!”

His brother fixed him with a steely look. “If you’re hung up about your genetic parents, bro, why don’t you check them out? You’re a detective. Shouldn’t be hard to find your birth mother.”

“I’ve considered it.”

“Consider it harder. Now quit bugging me.” Mike propelled himself away from the counter. “I’m going to hit the treadmill.”

That meant an hour of mechanized creaking and churning next to Lock’s bedroom. If he’d had any plans for hitting the sack early, he could forget about them.

Grabbing the laptop he’d left in the den, he carried it into the living room and set it up on the coffee table. For an unguarded moment, he reflected on how totally unlike Erica’s place this was, with its threadbare couch and chairs facing a giant TV screen. Not even the most dedicated bargain hunter would bother to refinish this scarred coffee table, decorated only by mug-size rings and the scuff marks of countless shoes.

Erica. He saw again the defensiveness in her crossed arms and tight expression after she’d learned she might be pregnant. Why was she so stubbornly insistent about standing on her own? Well, that was her right, just as it was Mike’s right to fill the world with his offspring if the sperm bank accepted his application.

As he’d said, he wasn’t throwing anyone away. Rationally, Lock knew his birth mother probably hadn’t intended to do that, either. But why
had
she given him up?

On the internet, he clicked on an adoption search site he’d bookmarked during his convalescence. Being seriously wounded made a guy reflect on life, death and major unanswered questions, and he’d taken the first steps toward locating his birth mother, before deciding he wasn’t ready.

He’d listed the little he knew about the circumstances of his relinquishment, including the agency involved, along with his birth date. Although he’d been born in Orange County, he had no idea at which hospital. It would have been easier if he could have talked to his adoptive parents, but his father had vanished after their divorce, and although Lock’s mother had been released from prison while he was with the Aarons, she’d made no attempt to see him.

He’d heard that she’d died of a drug overdose not long afterward. A few years later, her own mother had passed on, ironically leaving no heirs except her unwanted adoptive grandson. The inheritance had paid for college and his share of Fact Hunter Investigations, with a tidy sum left over.

How could his birth mother have entrusted him to such unstable people? Sure, there’d been a few tender moments that ached in his memory: his adoptive mom singing him to sleep, his father teaching Lock’s five-year-old self to bat a ball in the backyard. He’d loved them with all his young heart, and they hadn’t cared enough about him to put their lives in order.

Lock shifted his attention to the website, which allowed both adoptive children and birth parents to input their information. They could then learn if there were people whose parameters matched, without names or other identifying data. Instead, you could, if you chose, agree to have your email address forwarded.

Three women were listed as having given birth to male babies in Orange County on the same date and had relinquished them for adoption at the same agency. Since he’d posted his information months earlier, none of the mothers had forwarded their addresses to Lock. Presumably, they were waiting for him to make the first move.

His fingers hung over the keyboard. All he had to do was click in the right spot and he’d be on the road to answering his questions.

Or opening Pandora’s box.
He’d read on chat sites about painful experiences, as well as joyous reunions. There was no guarantee his birth mom hadn’t been a druggie, too. Or that she wouldn’t cling to him obsessively, or have other children who would resent him.

Alternatively, Lock reflected, he might ruin a nice woman’s fantasy about the picture-perfect life her son had led with his adoptive family. Most adoptions worked out well, after all. Plus his lingering resentment was likely to spill over and poison whatever chance they had of forming a bond.

He logged off and closed the laptop. What was that old saying about letting sleeping dogs lie? In this case, it might be more like a pack of wolves.

Better to let them snooze than to end up provoking an experience he might forever regret.

Chapter Six

Although Erica assisted surgeons other than Dr. T when the schedule required, she didn’t usually enjoy the experience. Not being accustomed to their preferences regarding instruments and procedures, she couldn’t achieve her usual standard of near perfection. Also, she missed his dry wit and easy banter.

But one afternoon in March, when she looked at the board and saw that she was set to assist Dr. Paige Brennan next, she felt a touch of relief.

Dr. T hadn’t been very pleasant that morning. Both twins had come down with bad colds, and he’d worried aloud about the possibility of them developing something more serious. After listening to him recount in excruciating detail how he’d spent the night suctioning their little noses and monitoring their temperatures, Erica had tried to change the subject, only to receive a sharp response.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked for hints about the announcement he was scheduled to make at a staff meeting later in the week. But she’d figured she deserved some advance notice, since it likely involved the proposed contest for which they’d been tossing around ideas for weeks. In addition to boosting morale and gaining publicity, he’d mentioned his goal of encouraging doctors to be more aggressive in using the latest fertility techniques, and he’d liked her suggestion of offering a reward. So she hadn’t expected him to snap, “In case this hasn’t occurred to you, Nurse, it’s called a surprise announcement because it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she’d said as evenly as she could. Given her edgy mood these past few days, she figured she deserved a gold star for keeping her cool. But doctors didn’t give nurses credit for that sort of thing.

As she downed a power bar to settle her queasy stomach, Erica missed the boost she normally got from coffee. But the stuff tasted bitter, no doubt due to a flood of hormones. The awareness that she couldn’t postpone taking a pregnancy test much longer didn’t help her mood, either.

Delaying the news meant putting off having to decide what to do when the results came back positive, as she was pretty sure they would. For all Lock’s promises of aid, she was in this alone. Her body, her future.

The fact that he’d phoned a few times didn’t reassure her. The guy must be trying to learn whether he was off the hook. Once she took the test, Erica supposed she’d have to call him back. And say what, exactly?

Yeah, we had a great time. You reminded me of how wonderful it can be to connect with a man.

Reminded
wasn’t even the operative word. She’d never had that strong a sense of bonding with her husband.

It scared the hell out of her. Far better to keep her distance, physically and in every other way. Falling in love led to pain and disappointment, and she’d had more than enough of those.

She went to scrub in. Thank goodness for the orderly, focused nature of surgery.

Erica had worked with Dr. Brennan before and liked the obstetrician’s no-nonsense manner. Nearly six feet tall, with dramatic red hair, Paige had joined the staff to fill in during Nora Kendall Franco’s extended maternity leave. No one seemed to know what Paige would do when Nora returned, but that didn’t appear to be imminent.

Today’s surgery was a hysterectomy on a woman in her thirties seeking relief from endometriosis. Fortunately, she already had two children.

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what Dr. Tartikoff plans to announce, can you?” Paige asked once the surgery was under way.

“He nearly bit her head off when she asked this morning,” said Rod Vintner. The anesthesiologist had witnessed that unfortunate exchange.

“Dr. T was in a bad mood,” Erica explained. “His kids are sick.” No matter how irritated she might feel, she didn’t criticize her doctor to others.

“He fussed about them all morning.” Rod kept an eye on the display showing the patient’s heart rate and blood pressure. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell him about my hot date last Saturday.”

That sounded more interesting than runny noses and crying kids, Erica thought as she handed Dr. Brennan a scalpel. She saw the circulating nurse perk up, too.

“Pray don’t keep us in suspense,” Paige said.

Rod cleared his throat. “We had great vibes at dinner. Ever see the movie
Tom Jones?
That kind of dinner. Then she mentioned that she plans to get married next Valentine’s Day.”

“She went out on a date when she’s engaged?” Erica asked in disbelief.

“Not exactly.” Rod paused for dramatic effect. “She booked the hall, bought the dress, reserved the caterer and for all I know hired the band, but she doesn’t have the man yet. It’s kind of like baiting a trap and hoping Mr. Right will fall into it.”

“Incredible,” said the circulating nurse. “Even if it is nearly a year away.”

Erica couldn’t imagine being that presumptuous or that foolish. “What’s her rationale?”

“She believes in the power of positive thinking,” Rod chortled.

“That woman doesn’t understand men,” Dr. Brennan said. “To bait a trap, she should have used a big-screen TV and a refrigerator full of beer.”

“And invited him over on Super Bowl Sunday,” Erica added.

Paige laughed. “Since that’s only about a week before Valentine’s Day, she could drag him down the aisle before he knows what hit him.”

Rod responded with a grin. “I’d better watch my back around you two.”

He and Paige went on to swap observations about the failings of the opposite sex, both having had their share of disillusioning experiences. Erica would have contributed a few remarks of her own if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to wage a rebellion. As the wave of nausea passed, she caught a concerned glance from Dr. Brennan.

Later, as they were cleaning up, the doctor addressed Erica quietly. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Just a little off.”

“Are you sure?”

On the verge of insisting she was fine, Erica realized that she did need an ob-gyn. Since moving west, she’d postponed scheduling her annual physical, and hadn’t yet selected a physician. Who better than someone she already knew and trusted? “I might be pregnant.”

“Why don’t we go over to my office and I’ll give you a test?” Paige suggested.

“I can pick up a kit at the pharmacy.” Another wave of nausea swept through Erica. She leaned against the wall.

“A kit won’t check your vitals and answer your questions,” the taller woman said as she stripped off her surgical gown. “If you don’t mind my asking, is there a steady guy in the picture?”

It was too complicated to explain, so Erica simply said, “No.”

“Then I recommend you have someone else with you when you get the news. Me, for instance. It’s a bad idea to be standing in a bathroom with nothing but a pink stick to keep you company.”

Erica felt an unexpected longing for Lock’s sturdy presence. Much as she took pride in managing her own problems, she hadn’t counted on her traitorous body making her feel shaky. Or on her hormone-fueled psyche longing for a shoulder to lean on.

Oh, right. Lock was the last person she should be with when she got the news. Too many issues to deal with, on top of the pregnancy itself. Paige’s offer made sense, and Erica had finished her shift for the day. “Do you have time now?”

“I’ll make time.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Erica promised. “Thanks, Dr. Brennan.”

“Glad to help. And look on the bright side. Pregnancy isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a woman.” Was that a wistful note in the other woman’s voice? “See you shortly.”

Half an hour later, Erica sat in an examining room in the medical building adjacent to the hospital, receiving news she really didn’t want to hear.

“You’re definitely pregnant.” Dr. Brennan studied the test results in the computer. “I’d put your due date at mid-November.”

A rush of tears caught Erica off guard. As they streamed down her cheeks, Paige handed her a box of tissues. “I know this is tough.”

Embarrassed, Erica mopped herself up. “We have so many patients who’d give anything to be in this position.”

The red-haired doctor inhaled sharply. Did she long for a baby, too? According to hospital gossip, she was neither married nor dating anyone steadily.

Well, neither am I.

“You have some decisions to make,” the doctor went on. “How about talking to a counselor? I can recommend someone who specializes in maternity issues.”

That was exactly the advice Erica would give another woman in her situation. But to her, relying on a therapist felt like an admission of weakness. “No, thanks.”

Her hand drifted to her abdomen. Impossible as it seemed, there was a baby growing in there, a tiny version of herself or Lock. Would it have his intense blue eyes or her hazel ones? And what about their personalities? She had to smile.

Paige regarded her questioningly. “What’s so funny?”

“Is it possible for a baby to be born cynical?” Erica asked. “Because this one is going to inherit that trait from both sides.”

“I once delivered a baby that was the spitting image of W. C. Fields. He’s the comedian who said, ‘A woman drove me to drink and I didn’t even have the decency to thank her,’” Paige responded. “I swear, that kid’s fingers were twitching as if trying to twirl a cigar. Nearly made me believe in reincarnation.”

Erica laughed. “I’d like a picture of that.” As for the baby inside
her,
she already had a mental picture of a little person who’d suddenly become much more than a theoretical possibility. A person with roots deep inside her genetic heritage, and Lock’s. A person who deserved much better than to be brought up by an unprepared and unwilling mother.

“What’s on your mind?” the doctor asked. “You just ran through half a dozen different facial expressions and I’m fresh out of ESP.”

“I’m facing the fact that I have neither the temperament nor the desire to be a mom,” Erica said. “I’m going to put him or her up for adoption. And the sooner I get the paperwork taken care of, the better.”

“There’s no hurry,” Paige cautioned. “It’s a big step. I really do recommend seeing a counselor.”

She shrugged off the advice. “Why waste everyone’s time? I’ll be a lot happier if I know I’m doing this for a family who will cherish this child, and that in the end, I’ll walk away a free woman.”

“Very well.” Dr. Brennan jotted a note in the computer. “I’ll ask my nurse to give you a prescription for maternal vitamins and schedule your next appointment. You’ll need blood work, too. In the meantime, I suggest you talk to Tony Franco.”

“The hospital attorney?” He was also Dr. Nora Franco’s brother-in-law, Erica recalled. She’d met the man a few times at staff meetings.

“He keeps a list of local adoption agencies, and he can advise you on the legalities,” Paige said.

“Sounds good.”

After getting dressed, Erica put in a call. Tony agreed to meet with her right away in his office on the fifth floor of the hospital.

On the short walk to the next building, she enjoyed the soft breeze and the scent of early spring flowers. Her spirits felt lighter now that she’d made her decision. The coming months might be difficult, but she could see light at the end of the tunnel. Or was that at the end of the birth canal? Erica mused.

In the administrative suite, Tony, a steady man with rust-brown hair, ushered her into his office and listened thoughtfully as Erica explained the circumstances. Although his desk bore a photo of his wife, six-year-old stepson and toddler daughter, he didn’t try to talk her out of her decision. However, he raised a point she hadn’t anticipated.

“You do know who the father is, correct?” Tony asked, tilting back his swivel chair. Behind him, a large window overlooked a panorama of cliffs, beach and white-flecked Pacific Ocean.

“Of course!”

“I don’t mean to insult you.” Tony spread his hands placatingly. “It’s just that, unless he’s what the courts call a ‘casual inseminator,’ he has a right to contest the adoption.”

“He has what?” In Erica’s opinion, an unmarried and essentially uninvolved father shouldn’t have any rights.

Tony reached into a drawer and retrieved a document. “This is a waiver of his parental rights. He can sign it before the child is born, which would be the easiest thing, from your perspective.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?”

“I’m afraid so.”

That meant not only having to reveal the situation to Lock, which she’d planned to do anyway, but requesting his cooperation. “I suppose I could mail it to him,” Erica muttered. “No, that’s not a good idea, is it?”

“My advice is to make sure he feels respected. Courtesy goes a long way,” Tony said. “If you like, I can talk to him.”

Although she appreciated the offer, Erica doubted Lock would react well to hearing about this from a lawyer. “I’d better see him myself.”

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” Tony spoke earnestly.

“Thanks.” Taking the document, which the attorney tucked inside a protective folder, Erica rose stiffly. This infant might not be any bigger than her thumbnail, but as she crossed the thick carpet, it weighed heavily on her.

Still, what was Lock going to do? He might fuss, but in the end, he’d go along. And if he offered chocolates and massages during the pregnancy, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?