Робин Кук - Genesis

“I called her,” Aria said. “But I didn’t try to talk to her over the phone. I wanted to do it in person, which I did. In fact, I just came from her posh Fifth Avenue apartment overlooking the park.”

“Good grief,” Laurie said. “I hope you weren’t misrepresenting yourself as a medical examiner.” The idea of Aria out in the field, visiting well-connected people and perhaps posing as a representative of the NYC OCME, could have disastrous legal ramifications besides being possibly risky. Issues surrounding out-of-wedlock pregnancy and adoption were potentially emotionally explosive even with today’s mores.

“Absolutely not,” Aria said. “I was representing myself as a resident in Pathology at NYU.”

“What happened?” Laurie asked, with rising concern. “Were you well received, I hope?”

Aria laughed hard enough to need a minute to regain control even though her laughter wasn’t completely mirthful. “Sorry,” she said. “No, I was not well received. Well, that’s not entirely correct. Initially, I was well received, but that changed one-hundred-and-eighty degrees when I got around to bringing up the issue that I was there to talk about, namely that she had had a son with a man named Eric Thompson some fifty years ago.”

“I can imagine how that went over,” Laurie said with a sense of dread, suddenly regretting that she’d encouraged Aria to follow up on the Kera Jacobsen case. Knowing what she did about city politics, she started to worry whether she was going to hear about this episode from the mayor’s office. There was little doubt in her mind that if there was a formal complaint followed by an investigation, the incident would be traced back to the OCME.

“She went ballistic,” Aria said. “She practically threw me out into the street.”

“I’m not surprised,” Laurie said with a sense of alarm. “Will I be hearing any fallout from this? Did you mention the OCME or anything about Kera Jacobsen’s death?”

“No! Don’t worry,” Aria said. “I didn’t involve the OCME or Kera Jacobsen in any way. If you want to know, I concocted a story about me being the product of a sperm donation with the source of the sperm being her unacknowledged son, and I was just trying to find out something about my heritage. I made an effort for the news to be as benign as possible, maybe even a little complimentary because if it were true, she’d be my grandmother. But it didn’t work. The bitch of a woman who apparently thinks of herself as a socialite is a total fake who’s had enough plastic surgery to make her lips look like a fish.”

“Okay,” Laurie said, trying to calm herself. With the concern of having her surgery the next day, she was having trouble dealing with this new, potential problem and Aria in general. “Perhaps we should try to think of how we might mitigate any fallout. How angry would you guess Mrs. Hanna was? Do you think there’s any chance she’ll be vindictive enough to possibly have you investigated or censured?”

“Certainly not,” Aria said with a wave of her hand. “And her overreacting guarantees it. She knows that if she were to make any kind of stink, like complaining to someone about my visit, the truth would come out. She doesn’t want that. She wants the whole issue just to go away so it doesn’t mar her fake life. There’s no doubt in my mind, and there shouldn’t be in yours, either.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Laurie said. The idea did make sense, and it did provide a modicum of relief. “Can I assume now that since neither the mother nor the father are willing to acknowledge the son, you won’t be harassing them anymore?”

“I’m done with them,” Aria said. “Actually, I never had much hope either one would be able to help, particularly not the father. The only way they might have been useful was if the adoption had been an open adoption, at least from the mother’s side. In retrospect, the chances of that were extraordinarily slim, but I had to try.”

“What exactly did you intend to do if you had discovered Lover Boy’s identity?” Laurie suddenly asked. “I hope you weren’t entertaining any thoughts of confronting him.”

“What would I have done personally?” Aria questioned. She pondered the question for a moment and then shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but I’d have to say no, I wouldn’t have confronted him. I just want the guy exposed. It irks me to death that he is free and clear without having to face any questions about Kera Jacobsen’s death. In my experience, it happens too often. Too many men get away with fucking up women’s lives and walking away. I still feel that way, which is why I came over here to see you tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only thing that stands between my finding out Lover Boy’s identity is the strict adoption laws here in New York State,” Aria said. “The records are sealed, but I was told that a district attorney can unseal them. What I’m hoping is that you might persuade the Manhattan district attorney to do it. I know you and the DA’s office have to work together closely so it occurred to me...” Aria let her voice trail off.

For a moment Laurie averted her gaze to give herself the opportunity to let the idea percolate. She wasn’t completely averse to mentioning the problem to one of her frequent contacts in the DA’s office to get a sense of their interest, yet with her impending surgery the timing was hardly opportune. Redirecting her attention back to Aria, she said, “All right. I’ll talk to someone at the DA’s office. But to be completely open, there are two problems that immediately jump out. First is that our relationship with the DA is dependent on facts, not conjecture. What I’m saying is that the idea that Lover Boy had something to do with Kera’s overdose is conjecture, not fact. Second is that there is a specific reason adoption records are sealed, and that is to protect people’s lives from information that can sometimes be disruptive. On top of these two issues, there is a timing circumstance that I will share with you. Tomorrow I’m scheduled to have major surgery here at NYU, which is certainly going to keep me mentally occupied at least through the weekend. Physically a bit longer. Be that as it may, let’s plan on talking again by phone on Monday or Tuesday. That will give me a chance to think about everything you’ve told me. Does all this sound acceptable to you?”

“I suppose,” Aria said without a lot of emotion. Although what Laurie was saying did sound reasonable, Aria wasn’t convinced of Laurie’s sincerity, thinking that maybe she was merely putting her off. “What kind of surgery are you going to have?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Laurie said calmly and without rancor. “I’m already sharing privileged information with you. Let me add that my surgery plans are for your ears only and that you don’t say anything to anyone, although there will be a general announcement. And I have another request: I’d like you to give the Jacobsen case a rest until we talk.” Laurie handed Aria the family trees across the desk. “Is that a deal?”

Aria took them back, nodded several times, and then started for the exit.

“Wait!” Laurie suddenly called out, halting Aria halfway to the door. “I wanted to ask you how the autopsies went this morning. When I was in the pit doing my rounds, you were totally absorbed in dissecting a heart.”

“They went fine,” Aria said. “A subway accident and a commotio cordis.”

“I heard the subway accident victim was Madison Bryant, Kera’s friend. That’s quite a coincidence, and a tragedy.”

“I guess,” Aria said. And then she was gone.

For a time Laurie continued to stare at the open doorway, marveling at how strange and complicated a person Aria was and how smart yet disruptive she could be. For a moment she felt sorry for Carl Henderson, because Aria was his problem, not hers, provided she could be shepherded through the rest of her time at the OCME. Laurie also realized that Jack was right; although Aria had a lot of antisocial symptoms, including her obvious disrespect for others, her manipulative behavior, and her lack of empathy, to name a few, all of which made her difficult to deal with, she certainly didn’t have an antisocial personality disorder. She was much too high-functioning. It seemed to Laurie that a good psychiatrist or psychologist could have a ball trying to get behind her insufferable shell.