'Yes,' she said, rage at the memory of the day growing in her.
'When?'
'Twelve days ago when Dr. Fletcher called me to ask for a blood test. She said a sick baby needed a transfusion.'
Czernek nodded and stroked at his beard. 'Did she tell you at this time that the baby was yours?'
'No.'
Dr. Fletcher gazed steadily at Valerie, though she noted through peripheral vision that the jurors stared at her now, not the witness. She labored to avoid looking guilty at hearing her deception revealed.
'Did you later discover this fact?'
'Yes.'
He asked her when she found out.
She replied with obvious bitterness. 'The next day in the hospital. A lab technologist was interested in why my blood would be more useful to a baby than the blood of its own sup-posed mother. He left the room while I was donating the pint, and when he came back, he started asking me what I thought were crazy questions about whether I'd regretted having my abortion and what if my baby had lived.'
'What did you say?'
'Nothing. Before he could finish, Dr. Fletcher walked in, and he stopped talking.'
'Did Dr. Fletcher tell you then that Renata was your child?'
'No. First she asked if I would agree to a bone-marrow trans-plant. I said I wanted to see the baby. When I did, I had the feeling that she was mine. Then the technologist-'
'Do you remember his name?' Ron asked.
'Yes. Mark Landry. He told me his theory that Dr. Fletcher had invented some way to implant aborted fetuses into other women and that the child born to Karen and David Chandler was actually mine.'
'What happened then?'
'I fainted. Mr. Landry brought me about with smelling salts. Then Dr. Fletcher walked in.'
'Did she tell you then?'
'No. Only when I confronted her did she bother to tell me that my child had been given to someone else.'
Throughout the morning, Czernek questioned her on every minute detail with repetitive precision and through her an-swers painted a portrait of irresponsible medical experiments performed on an unsuspecting woman without benefit of in-formed consent. All the while, Dr. Fletcher watched with intense concentration.
'Valerie,' Czernek finally asked softly, 'would you be a good mother for Renata?'
'Yes,' she said, barely audible.
'Could you tell the court why?'
Valerie thought about the question for a moment, though the time was mostly spent remembering what she and Ron had decided the night before. She turned to the jury. 'My baby was born to another woman, who claims that makes her the child's mother. Yet when the baby fell ill, I was the only one who could save her. Dr. Fletcher would not have been forced to bring everything out in the open if there were anyone else who could help. That baby needs me. She needs her real mother in order to survive.' Her voice was level, unemotional. 'She needs her true parents to love her, not two strangers. Strangers who considered her a commodity to be purchased. And I hope that, along with returning my little girl to me, this court decides that no one else should ever have to suffer this deception again.' Ron waited for her words to sink in, then asked, 'Did you bring this lawsuit just to get money?'
'No! What Dr. Fletcher did to me was wrong. She should be stopped. That's why I brought this lawsuit. To get my baby back and to prevent future abuses.'
He paused again. 'Thank you, Ms. Dalton. No further ques-tions.' Judge Lyang looked over to Johnson. 'Would the defense care to cross-examine?' Terry rose. 'Yes, Your Honor.' He sidled out from behind the table to approach the witness stand. He put his hands in his pockets as if in deep thought. He looked up at the ceiling. 'Ms. Dalton,
