David looked up to see a silent montage of the day's events: the line of demonstrators outside the hospital; the arrival of the DA; the hospital administrator fending off questions; Dr. Fletcher in handcuffs, walking tall through the clog of report-ers; her reaction as a clod of dirt hits her; an interview with the man Chandler knew had to be Renata's father.
Her real father.
And finally, the news anchor with an insert behind her that read 'Transoption'-Surgical Kidnapping?
The accompany-ing artwork was that of a fetus surmounted by a gleaming scal-pel. He watched the image fade, to be replaced by an ad for dis-posable diapers. He looked away, buried his face in Karen's sweet-smelling hair, and tried to soothe her.
A man in dark blue jeans and a navy turtleneck sweater strode quietly down the hospital hallway toward the ICU.
'
The phone rang. Valerie, just finished talking with her mother in Colorado, picked up the handset.
'Hello?'
'Valerie, this is Dr. Fletcher.'
She felt as if her hands had been plunged into ice water. 'Y-yes?'
'I just ran into Ron.'
'Dr. Fletcher,' she said, her words running together in a breathless plea for understanding, 'I didn't want it to come to this but everything seemed so terrible when I heard that my baby was alive and I'd have to give her a transplant and all. It was Ron's idea but we both want that baby to live and wouldn't it stand a better chance with me? I'm her real mother after all and it's not as if we can't provide for her even without that money that he asked for. You know I don't care about the money; I just want her to be all right.'
'Valerie, I don't harbor any ill feelings. I only want to know that this suit won't interfere with our working relationship. With helping the baby get well.'
'Oh, it won't, Dr. Fletcher, it won't.' She sniffed back tears, wiped a tissue against her nose.
'You've got to realize that all this publicity is going to be tough on us. You've got to keep your spirits up and stay healthy for Renata's sake as well as yours.'
'I will,' Valerie said. 'I will.'
'Your HLA type is close enough to Renata's that we can do a marrow transplant. Can I expect you to show up at ten tomor-row morning?'
'Yes. Ten A.M.'
'All right, Valerie.' Dr. Fletcher's tone softened. 'Thank you.'
'I want my baby to live,' she said, choking back the urge to break into tears.
'We all do. Get some rest. Good night.'
Valerie said, 'Good night,' and switched off the remote. She lay back on the bed and tried to think about how all this would affect her, her job, and Ron. She'd need more time off for the appointment tomorrow. And trials are usually held during day-time. She wondered if Ernie would understand. He always seemed very sympathetic to her problems.
Her mother had been so sweet, talking to her just a few min-utes before. She'd called from Colorado Springs to find out what was going on. She'd heard her daughter's name on CNN and called immediately. They talked for nearly an hour about it all, both crying, Valerie assuring her mother that there was no need for her to fly out-Ron was doing everything he could to take care of her. The phone rang, startling her back to the present time. She picked up the remote. 'Hello?'
'Is this Valerie Dalton?' The man's voice sounded guarded.
'Yes. May I ask who's-'
'I'm a stringer with the National Midnight Star. I'd like to check a few facts about the changeling for our next issue. I think we can definitely swing a cover headline, though the royal triplets get priority for the pho-'
