Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

“What?”

Miles waved the question away. “There’s only so many people who’d know the connection between them. You’re at the top of that list. Why are they disappearing? What’s going on?”

Miles took two steps into the storage unit, prompting Gold to move back without looking where he was going. When he did, he stumbled over one of the boxes of files and landed on his butt. He got back on his feet.

“I’ve nothing to say. My patients are entitled to their confidentiality.”

Miles said, “We’re way past that.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Gold said. “Walk away from this. You’ve got no connection to these people, these grown children. They’re not your responsibility.”

Miles let that sink in. “So it’s true. None of them are mine.”

“Walk. Away.”

“How is that possible? Why’s my name on the files?” Miles felt his anger rising along with his voice. “Who is the biological father of these people? What the fuck is going on?”

Gold raised a trembling hand and pointed at Miles. “Go away. Just go.”

Miles suddenly had a realization. “Christ, it’s you . I’ve heard about sick bastards like you. Every single woman who’s been to your clinic, every couple who’s come to you looking for help, the whole thing is a sham. Stupid idiots like me come in, provide a sperm donation, it’s pointless. You’re the one impregnating all those women.”

Gold said, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. If you care anything about yourself — about that girl you came in here with — then forget all about this.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s good advice.”

Miles pointed a finger. “Yeah, well, listen up. If you’re not going to answer my questions I’ll find someone who will. Or go to the authorities, who can bring pressure to bear in ways that I can’t. Maybe I’ll bring them back with me.”

Miles waited another moment, realized there was nothing more to be gained here, and headed back down the corridor for the stairs.

Gold, breathing heavily, heart racing, found a pile of boxes steady enough to hold him, and sat. He took out his phone, entered a number, and put the phone to his ear. When someone finally answered, he said, “It’s Dr. Gold. It’s urgent.”

And then he waited more than two minutes to be connected to the person he needed to talk to.

“Cookson was here... He’s got half of it figured out... Of course I didn’t tell them, but he’s not going to drop this... He’s got one of them with him. The Swanson girl... Whatever he knows, she seems to know... Shredding, that’s what. I’m shredding everything, just like you told me—”

The other party had ended the call.

Gold slowly lowered the phone to his lap and started to cry.

New Rochelle, NY

When Miles got back to the car, Chloe was in the back seat, arms crossed, looking straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him when he got in.

“Hey,” he said.

Chloe stayed silent.

Charise, tucked in behind the wheel, said, “Where to now, Mr. Cookson?”

He had no idea. Where to, indeed? What should he do next? Was there anything left for him to do? What was his responsibility now? What did he owe the young men and women on the list? He certainly didn’t have to worry about their medical future, at least not where his genes were concerned.

“Mr. Cookson?”

The fact he wasn’t their father didn’t mean they were no longer in danger. He still had to warn them. And there was the matter of his name being in those files, recording him as the donor when he wasn’t.

Was it time to turn this over to the police? Would the FBI be the appropriate body?

“She’s asking where you want to go,” Chloe said, annoyed.

“Oh,” Miles said, drawn out of his thoughts. “Um, home, I guess.”

“Yes, sir,” Charise said, and turned on the engine.

“That’s not where I’m going,” Chloe said. “Nearest bus or train station will do fine. I’ve got to get to Springfield and get my car.”

“Chloe,” Miles said. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, if you want to go home, that’s fine. But Charise can drive you there. She can drop me off on the way.”

“We were supposed to go at that guy together,” she said.

“Chloe, I’m sorry I sent you away. I needed to talk to the doctor alone.”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “You get the test result, tell me I’m okay, which should be, like, good news for both of us, but instead of being happy about it, you suddenly freeze me out.”

“It’s complicated,” Miles said.

“What’s complicated about my being okay?”

“Nothing. That’s good.”

“So what is it? Did something else happen on that phone call?”

Charise put the car through a three-point turn and powered down the window to enter the code again on the keypad by the gate.

“So am I heading to the closest train station?” she asked.

“No,” Miles said at the same moment Chloe said, “Yes.”

Charise sighed. “I’ll head for New Haven while you two come to a decision. Plenty of train stations along the way.”

“Are we a team or not?” Chloe asked.

“We are,” Miles said, but the words almost caught in his throat. Were they? Really? Their bond was now based on a fiction, a fraud.

An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over him. All these years, even when he hadn’t known the identity of the children he’d believed he’d fathered, their existence had been something of a comfort. He was leaving something behind. He had a legacy. An anonymous one, but still, it was out there.

But no more.

No legacy.

And he was going to have to break it to Chloe that she hadn’t been reunited with her father after all. He was still out there. And he was very likely a despicable fertility doctor who had violated every ethical standard in the book.

What the hell was he supposed to tell her?

As Charise headed for I-95, Miles and Chloe entered into a period of silence. About ten minutes went by before Chloe broke it.

“So what’s next, Pops?”

It was a peace offering. He turned his head, looked at her, and smiled sadly. Her hand was resting on the leather upholstery, and he placed his on top of it and gave it a squeeze.

Chloe, so annoyed with him earlier, appeared concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“You’re holding something back.”

“No, I told you what Dorian said.”

Half of it.

She gave him a brief, skeptical glare, but then said, “I guess we should carry on, find the others.” To Charise, she said, “Forget the train station.”

Miles said, “Maybe it’s too much for me. For us. Maybe it’s time to go to the police.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like they’d be any help. You know where I’d suggest we go first?”

“Where?” he said wearily.

“I was thinking Fort Wayne.”

“Travis Roben.”

“Right,” she said. “I’ve already started doing some research.” She waved her phone. “When I got back to the car, I entered in the names, one at a time, to see what I could find on them. Roben’s kind of a weird, geeky guy. I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s on Instagram. He’s a graphic novel nut.”

“You mean he’s into them, or he writes them?”

“Both. Well, he’s trying to do one. He posted a few pics. He’s not that great an artist, but his story lines are kind of interesting. The good news is, he’s not dead or missing or anything like that.”

“That’s a plus.”

Miles didn’t have the heart to tell her Dorian and Heather had compiled profiles. Besides, Chloe might have found some new, interesting tidbits.