Pick Your Poison

“We could get in serious trouble.”

“And if we do nothing, another woman like Cloris might have her children stolen from her.”

“Okay, so what’s this something you mentioned that’s guaranteed to grab her attention?”

I smiled. “Money, of course.”

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Kate said. It was late afternoon and we were on the way to Galveston.

“You agreed because you’re my loyal, loving sister, not to mention my best friend,” I answered, maneuvering through rush hour traffic. “Besides, behind your placid facade lies a spirit yearning for adventure.”

“You really think this will work? Hamilton sounds like a fairly clever woman. I don’t know how convincing I can be.”

A light rain forced me to turn on the windshield wipers. “You can match wits with Hamilton any day, Kate. Once she sees you’re willing to write a check, you’ll have her right where you want her.”

“But you said she insisted on cash.”

“You’ll say someone told you the price was ten thousand, but never mentioned the cash-only stipulation. She probably won’t even accept your check, but your eagerness to whip out a checkbook will add authenticity to your visit.”

“And what if she’s not there?”

“We try again on your next day off.”

“And what if Hamilton comes back before you’re in the closet? Or what if that door you remembered seeing isn’t a closet?”

“Kate, don’t get yourself worked up. That office was once a foyer, so that door has to be the front closet. And if she does catch me, I’ll confess that my other visits and the one today were lies. I’ll say I’m a reporter doing an adoption series.”

“I see. I’m Jimmy Olsen and you’re Lois Lane. Well, let’s hope we don’t need Superman.”

Though the streets were damp in Galveston, the rain had stopped by the time we reached Parental Advocates. I watched Kate climb the steps to Hamilton’s office, feeling like a mother sending her kid off on the first day of school. As much as Kate trusted my version of how this would go down, Hamilton could do something unforeseen. But still, the bottom line at Parental Advocates was greed, and I was certain Hamilton would be licking her chops after Kate got out her checkbook. Then, if the woman stayed true to form, Kate wouldn’t have a chance to sign her name before the cash-only speech ensued.

A minute after Kate entered the office, I tiptoed up the porch steps, crouched under the railing, and waited there. Ten minutes later, Kate appeared in the window and gave the signal that Hamilton had left the room, probably to fetch the glass of water Hamilton’s very “upset” visitor had requested. The plan was working perfectly so far.

I carefully opened the front door.

And realized I had missed something important. The door chimed.

I quickly opened the closet and sneaked in, reading panic in Kate’s eyes as I eased the door shut. Enveloped in blackness, I prayed Kate would think of an explanation.

When Hamilton returned to the office, I pressed my ear against the door to listen.

“Did someone come in?” Hamilton asked.

“I’m sorry. I felt so faint, I thought fresh air might help. But the humidity made me feel worse than ever.”

Good girl. That ought to fly. I slowly released my breath.

“You did want ice water, Mrs. Rose?” Hamilton said.

“Yes,” Kate replied. “Thanks so much.”

“Please let me apologize again for upsetting you,” Hamilton said, “but I must refuse your check. We only take cash. Believe me, you don’t want to leave a paper trail.”

Yes! The same song and dance she’d offered Terry and me.

“If all the contracts are legal, why should it matter?” said Kate. “I mean, do the birth mothers really come back that often to claim their babies?”

“Sadly, yes. That’s why we’ve been so successful at Parental Advocates. We prevent problems like that from happening beforehand. Please bring your husband and we’ll discuss the details.”

“Thanks for seeing me without an appointment. I know you must want to go home,” said Kate. Her chair scraped the floor.

Another chair moved, and Hamilton’s heels clicked a few times on the hardwood. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I guess I’m still woozy. I’ll just take this cup of water with me,” said Kate.

“Would you like a refill before you go?” asked Hamilton.

“No, thanks. I appreciate your time.”

I relaxed at the sound of them walking away. I couldn’t tell if Kate said anything else, but I heard the now- familiar chime as the door opened and closed, then the renewed rat-a-tatting of Hamilton’s feet.

Coming toward the closet.

Then her feet obliterated portions of light shining under the door.

Damn! I was trapped like a lizard under a cat’s paw!

I covered my mouth with my hand, as if that would somehow make me invisible. Then I heard the blessed bleat of the phone and her feet clackety-clacked away. I frantically felt around in the darkness, my heart thumping. I touched a large cardboard box... hanging clothes... stacks of folders... several umbrellas leaning in the narrow space between the door and the wall. I climbed on the box, moving what felt like a wool coat in front of me.

Insulated by the fabric, I couldn’t hear her telephone conversation or even if she was headed back my way.

But sure enough, within seconds the door opened. I held my breath again. Peeking through the coat’s folds, I captured her lower body with my left eye. The crimson enamel on her nails flashed as she picked up an umbrella. The storm. Of course. Then she closed the door and darkness enfolded me again.

Lucky for me, all I’d lost was a little confidence. I moved the coat aside in time to hear the metallic turn of —oh, no! That sounded an awful lot like a dead bolt. Deadbolt, Abby. As in, How the heck will you escape once you’re finished searching?

I’d have to deal with that problem later.

I cracked the door and peered out. Storm clouds completely filled the Gulf of Mexico, and with the front drapes pulled, light barely eked into the office through the leaded-glass window. I had already spotted the motion sensor on my first or second time here and knew I could reach the computer by staying close to the wall. I sidled over, feeling simultaneously silly and scared. Creeping around someone’s office uninvited wasn’t something I had ever imagined myself doing.

The telephone intrigued me, but shutting down the security system was the first order of business. I might not have detectivelike observational skills, but the distinctive ribbon cord leading from the computer to the wall told me Hamilton’s system was hooked up to an extra power supply for several modules behind the computer. This special cord handled electric current along with communication and control signals. Computer-controlled security like this avoided the very expensive rewiring usually required in these older houses for computerized security. I knew all this because CompuCan had an agreement with Intelli-Home, the company that sold this system, and my familiarity with the program would help me turn off the alarms.

I typed a few commands already prepared with an override for the Intelli-Home password, since I’d looked it up ahead of time. I walked through the necessary steps without a glitch, and a message soon flashed, informing me the security system was disengaged. I then started hunting through the files stored on the computer, but found only contract templates, word-processing files, and lists of adoption agencies in every state of the union. No information about clients appeared to be stored here, or they were well hidden.

I found plenty of disks and CDs in a box next to the computer, labeled only with dates, none older than a few months ago. I had no time to load and search all of them, and besides, what I really wanted was information from