Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“As I explained to your wife, putting things in writing in this business can cause problems, and that’s why we only ask for the family history, which is promptly shredded after we put the information into our computer. We do this for your protection, so you won’t be tracked down years later by the birth mother.”

“Is this how all adoption agencies work?” asked Terry.

Her eyes shifted for an instant. “Basically, yes. But don’t let me alarm you. We protect your investment and do ten times the business a charitable operation might in a given year.”

“Ten times?” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise.

She nodded. “You’re fortunate to live in Texas. The baby market is booming here.”

I kept my eager smile in place, even though I didn’t feel the least like smiling. If I truly did want to adopt, her words might be music. But markets for babies didn’t excite me. It sounded as if we were talking about racehorses, not children.

I said, “So our chances are good?”

“Like anything worth having, it depends on what you’re willing to spend, both monetarily and time-wise. This agency specializes in privacy, and we will serve you well, but surely you understand I’m unwilling to discuss details until I have a cash commitment.”

“How much cash?” asked Terry.

“The processing fee is ten thousand.”

“What do I get for my processing fee?” he asked, sounding wary.

“Part will pay for adoption insurance. Then we meet with you for several hours and assess exactly what you’re looking for in an infant. I assume you want a white child, or you wouldn’t have come to us.”

“You only deal in Caucasian infants?” I asked. I knew for a fact she didn’t, after what I’d seen the day I followed her, but I was curious to see if she would tell the truth.

“We have a few black couples, but we’re talking supply and demand, aren’t we?”

I could read her demeanor, and she didn’t need to add, “Black babies aren’t profitable.” It was getting harder to keep my fake smile in place.

“Are you ready to work with us, then?” she asked, focusing on Terry and ignoring me.

“You mentioned adoption insurance,” Terry said, skipping over her veiled reference to the processing fee she was itching to get her hands on. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“We connect you with an independent insurance broker. If you lose out on the first birth mother we match you with, you are insured for the ten thousand. So you see, the processing fee is actually covered if there’s a disaster. We can start all over.” She smiled as if she’d just invented water.

“And what’s the actual cost of the insurance?” he asked.

Her smile shrank to a tight pucker. “Twelve hundred.”

“And the rest of the ten grand is just to meet with you people? That doesn’t even include the actual cost of the adoption?” he said.

I didn’t think he was acting anymore. He sounded too astounded.

“That’s correct,” she said. “Each adoption is unique, sometimes quite complicated.”

“Darling,” I said quickly, “it’s worth it. They’ll find us the perfect baby and make sure we don’t lose her.” I smiled at Hamilton. “We want a girl.”

“Can I set up a meeting?” she said, switching her pitch to me.

“Yes. We’re ready,” I replied.

Terry put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not forking over ten thousand dollars until I know more about this company. Do you have lawyers? Doctors? Where do these mothers come from? How do we know we won’t get some poor child with AIDS or—”

“I’m sorry,” said Hamilton. She still sounded pleasant, but her steel-gray eyes hardened. “What is it you do for a living, Mr. Deer?”

My throat tightened. I’d forgotten to fill Terry in on his background. Please say “computers,” I begged silently. The whole frigging world does something with computers.

Thank goodness Terry slithered away from a direct answer. “I’ll save my answers for the expensive processing meeting, if we decide to go ahead. After all, you people have ten thousand dollars to earn.”

“Touche,” said Hamilton. “I only wanted to point out that you wouldn’t give away computers, would you? So you can’t expect us to provide valuable counseling services free of charge.”

So she did remember what I had told her the other day. She was slick, all right.

I said, “Did you notice Ms. Hamilton’s computer, darling? It’s one of the brands you sell. And she has a point, because I’m sure she paid good money for it.” Though I was cueing Terry, the computer itself interested me: a CompuCan model, with the ribbonlike cable I recognized—very expensive. Wired for special electronics.

Hamilton said, “I think Mrs. Deer and I are on the same page. But perhaps you need more time to mull things over, which is understandable. I might add, we currently have an excellent supply of babies on the way, and the chances are good you’d find a match. We can’t always offer such variety.”

So the crop was exceptional this year? This was making me sick.

When Terry didn’t even nibble on the bait, she stood. “I do have another appointment, but please call on me when you’re ready.”

We were being dismissed. No money, no more information.

Terry and I rose.

She walked around the desk and accompanied us to the door, saying, “Mrs. Deer, since we work on a referral basis, I wanted to ask you again where you heard about Mr. Feldman.”

That threw me, her bringing up Feldman. “I have confidentiality issues myself, Ms. Hamilton. Especially when my friends have told me not to mention their names.”

“I understand,” she answered, her face as blank as stone.

But her eyes held even more suspicion than the last time I’d been here.

Steven’s truck was parked in front of the house on P Street when Terry and I arrived back there to meet with Kate.

“He’s probably working on the roof and windows before the storm hits,” I said as Terry and I climbed the porch steps.

When we got inside, I saw that Steven had brought over the blueprints and they were spread on the parlor floor. He looked up when we came in.

“So how was your adventure?” he asked. Obviously Steven knew where we’d been.

“I guess Kate explained. But don’t take it personally, Steven. I divorced Terry, too—in the car on the way back here. He doesn’t want to adopt and I do.”

“You think this is one big joke, don’t you?” said Steven. “But messing with murder and pretending to be someone you’re not is like bucking in the rodeo without a pickup man.”

“Since when did my life become a province and you took over as dictator?” I said.

Terry cleared his throat. “I’ll find Kate while you two finish slinging arrows.”

Steven turned his flushed face toward Terry. “You’re as bad as she is, Terry. You work for the police, don’t you? Isn’t what you two did today on the hot side of the law?”

“It’s not illegal. And the visit proved enlightening. In fact, I may call up the Galveston County district attorney and ask her to take a serious look at this Parental Advocates agency.”

“Not yet,” I said quickly. “Let me find out about Feldman before you send Hamilton into a panic.”

“Maybe you should listen to Steven,” said Kate. She’d come in through the dining room. “Sergeant Kline might not be working as fast as you like, but—”

“I’m not giving up, Kate,” I said. “In fact, I may take ten thousand dollars over to Parental Advocates tomorrow and see if a few greenbacks will persuade Hamilton to discuss Mr. Feldman.”

“What?” came the simultaneous cry from Kate and Steven.