'I knew that old biddy was up to something,' said another.
'What do you mean, stole your baby?'
Valerie shook her head and started to push her way through the knot of inquisitors. Still dizzy from being low on blood, she could think of nothing but escape. Half running, she broke out of the cafeteria into the main corridor. Not knowing where to turn, she headed toward the light streaming in through the windows, found an exit leading to sunshine, and made her way to the parking lot. In a daze, she walked along aisles of cars until she found her disturbingly cheerful yellow Porsche. She climbed in, slammed and locked the door. Safety. She took a dozen long, slow breaths that were more sobs than anything else. A feel-ing of terror enveloped her. She started the car and drove away at a reckless velocity. '
Valerie locked the front door and collapsed in the bedroom. It was too much to take in at once. Her baby was alive. She belonged to someone else. And she was dying.
Valerie had faced the guilt of an abortion last winter, only to face a new life-or-death choice again. That her actions had led to the death of an unborn child had been a terrible burden. Now, when she should have been overjoyed that the child was alive, she felt a horrifying fear that the mortal choice would have to be made all over again.
The terror, she realized with a shudder, was for herself, not for the baby. She buried her face in the depths of the down pillow and began to cry. For herself. And for what she knew that meant about her. The tears soaked the pillowcase with each trembling sobs. She kicked her shoes off and pulled the comforter over her. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wept while the same thought throbbed in her feverishly: Jennifer's alive.
If it had been a girl, she would have called it Jennifer. If it had been a boy, Bryan. Years ago, she had chosen those names for when she finally decided to have children. Since Ron wasn't the marrying sort, Jennifer Dalton and Bryan Dalton both sounded like good names. She had never understood why some mothers wanted their children to 'have a name.' That is, a last name other than the mother's. Dalton was a perfectly good name. Jennifer Dalton.
Jennifer Dalton was Renata Chandler. Or was she really? Valerie's frantic mind latched on to the problem in morbid fas-cination. Who was this child, really? Whose right was it to name her? Did it have any bearing on who she really was?
Did it have any effect on Valerie's decision whether or not to help save her life?
A new wave of sobbing brought more tears. She pulled back for a moment to gaze at the mascara and makeup smeared onto the pillowcase.
This isn't doing anything, she eventually determined. She sat up in bed and tried to think things through the way Ron would if he were in court.
One, I was tricked into a medical experiment by Dr. Fletcher.
Two, the baby I thought I'd aborted is alive with someone else.
Three, I'm the only one that can save her life or they wouldn't have risked contacting me. Four, she's Ron's and my baby. Nothing can change that. Not a name, not a secret experiment with stolen embryos.
Oh, my God, she thought with stunned suddenness. How many others are there?
IX
Dr. Jacob Lawrence sought to avoid controversy the way most men sought to avoid death. He didn't think about it much when it wasn't present, but when it seemed imminent, he marshaled every resource to combat it.
Mentally, he tried to envision a way out of the mess caused by the woman across from his desk. To his left sat Dr. Leo Cospe, the staff neurosurgeon. To his right, leaning against the windowpane, stood Shawn Deyo, the medical center's le-gal counsel. It was time to work on damage control. He cleared his throat. 'Dr. Fletcher, I don't want to be placed in the position of grand inquisitor, but your actions leave me no other choice.' He gazed across his desk at Fletcher, who sat stonily in the leather chair. She stared at him coldly.
'None of this would be happening,' she said, 'if the ethics committee had agreed to discuss the merits of transoption eight years ago.'
Lawrence sighed. 'We'll discuss it now. I've asked Shawn and Leo to be here as a special ethics subcommittee.'
'I have nothing to say.' Dr. Fletcher stared quietly into the administrator's eyes with a gaze of arctic steel.
'It would be in your interest,' Lawrence said, 'to be forth-right about all this so that we can head off any publicity that may damage this institution.'
Fletcher shook her head. 'You're going to get publicity no matter what I say or do. The lid's just been torn off the biggest controversy of the decade.' She swiveled to look at the lawyer. 'What charges have you concocted for
