Identity (53 page)

“And you probably didn’t mind that he was confiding in you instead of Danielle.”

A smile emerged at the corners of Juliana’s mouth. “I can’t lie. It was satisfying to think about the smug look on her face and knowing that he was telling me his troubles on the side.”

“Right. Well, thanks for the information.” Fina walked to the front door. “Good night, Juliana.”

Fina walked to her car and inhaled deeply, drawing the salty tang of the air into her lungs. She liked the taste of the ocean on the breeze, and she needed it; this case was leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

•   •   •

Fina pulled up to Risa’s house an hour later and turned off the engine. She’d had a lot of weird conversations in her life, but this promised to be one of the strangest. And the saddest. Nobody liked to think that their spare parts were their best assets.

Risa opened the door wearing what looked like cashmere loungewear topped with a long cashmere sweater with a drape collar. She looked surprised. “Hey, Fina. Is everything okay? It’s kind of late.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you if you can spare a few minutes.”

“Sure. I was just losing brain cells in front of the TV.”

They walked into the family room attached to the kitchen, and Risa
steered her toward one of the couches. The TV was turned to a real estate reality show. “Marty’s not around?” Fina asked.

“No. He’s in New York on business.”

Fina
really
didn’t want to have this conversation without Marty around to pick up the pieces, but it was a little late to change course.

“Do you want a drink or a snack?” Risa asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, now I know something is wrong.” Risa sat down next to her on the couch.

Fina smiled and turned to face Risa. “I went to see Greta Samuels yesterday.”

“In Maine?”

“Yes. I took a little road trip because something was bugging me about the situation.”

“Are you telling me we’re not related?” Risa’s forehead wrinkled with concern.

“No, no, you’re related, but her motives aren’t as pure as we’d hoped.”

“She wants money,” Risa said, her shoulders drooping.

“Actually . . .” Fina winced. “She wants your kidney.” She braced herself as if expecting a blow.

Risa’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Greta has kidney disease, and she needs a kidney.”

Risa opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She opened it again, but nothing came out.

“That was my reaction,” Fina said. She reached over and squeezed Risa’s hand. “I feel terrible about this.”

“Why would
you
feel terrible? Do you want my liver?”

“No, but I feel like an organ broker. I never would have pursued this had I known her endgame.”

Risa sat back against the couch cushions. “I can’t even wrap my head around this.”

“To be fair, she claims that she wants to have a relationship with you regardless of the kidney situation.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know what to believe. She may want both: a relationship and a kidney.”

“How sick is she?”

“She’s on dialysis. She looks crummy, but from what I understand, dialysis can keep her alive for a while.”

“Dialysis is supposed to be miserable,” Risa said, looking into space.

“Maybe, but that’s not your problem.”

“But I could possibly save her life.”

“Possibly, or you might not even be a match. Or you might decide that you want to keep your spare kidney for yourself.”

“Or for my kids. What if one of my kids needs a kidney someday and I’ve already given mine away?”

“That’s a valid consideration.”

Risa pulled her sweater tight around her middle and was silent.

“I think you need time to digest this,” Fina said. “You don’t have to make any decisions right away.”

Risa nodded. “This is surreal.”

“You have to do whatever works for you and your family.”

Risa looked at her with a wry smile. “Which family?”

“This family,” Fina said, looking around the room. “The family you’ve built with Marty.”

“But she’s my blood relative, too.”

Fina waved her hand in the air. “I’m finding that argument less compelling these days.” She stood. “Whatever I can do, just let me know.”

Risa walked her to the door and gave her a big hug. “Thanks, Fina.”

“I’m not sure why you’re thanking me.”

“You’re a cool head when I need one. I appreciate your support.”

“Of course. Keep in touch.”

Fina returned to her car but didn’t feel relieved.

It was a sad state of affairs when the easiest thing on your to-do list was a conversation about organ donation.

•   •   •

Was it wrong to break in to her parents’ house? Was it even breaking in? She was related to the owners, after all, generally welcome there if she was willing to pay the entrance fee of unrelenting criticism from Elaine. Fina could have walked in like it was a regular visit and tried to run her covert op right under her father’s nose, but Carl was suspicious. He wouldn’t believe she was just coming by to say hello.

Fina sat out in her car for a couple of hours, leeching off the neighbors’ Wi-Fi, waiting for her parents to turn in for the night. She didn’t even need them to be asleep; once they were ensconced in the master suite upstairs, there was no need to venture down to the first floor. They had a wet bar in their sitting room along with a giant TV. Elaine would probably get in bed and read a trashy book, and Carl would stay up watching a game, too distracted to pay much attention to anything else.

Honestly, it was breaking and entering for dummies. Fina silently closed her car door, snuck up to the side door, and spent a few minutes picking the lock. The tricky part would be disarming the alarm, but she was fairly certain that Elaine only cycled through a few codes; she claimed she couldn’t remember them if they changed too often. Truly a burglar’s dream house.

Once inside, Fina punched Haley’s birthday into the alarm pad, which elicited a blinking red light. Ryan was next, but equally unsuccessful. Worried she’d only get three tries, she decided to skip Teddy and go for Chandler. She had a fifty-fifty chance, and if she was wrong, she’d have to make up a story that would satisfy Carl. Her hand hovered over the keypad and then punched in her youngest nephew’s birthdate. The pad flashed green.

Fina tiptoed to her father’s office at the other end of the house and took stock. She knew the safe was a lost cause; unlike Elaine, Carl changed the combination frequently and didn’t share it with anyone. Instead, Fina took out a penlight and started quietly rummaging
through the file cabinets. There had to be something that wouldn’t appeal to the average thief but would hold value within the family.

Fina was surprised how little time it took to find a suitable candidate. She slipped out the way she had come in after resetting the alarm.

That wasn’t so hard.

She should do it more often.

A good night’s sleep eluded Fina, and the drive to Framingham the next morning was too long; it gave her too much time to ruminate. Haley still required a bodyguard, but that risk was insignificant compared to the damage Rand’s return might cause. Fina needed to neutralize Rand while not completely antagonizing Carl. And what was the deal with Cristian? Was he really serious about this woman? Fina had assumed that he was done with traditional marriage after his own imploded, but maybe she’d misread him all this time.

Fina drove through the pillars and parked. She pulled Renata’s folder out of her bag before climbing the stairs to the front door. The living room was empty, but she could hear loud classical music through the door. It took a few tries of the doorbell before Walter appeared in the room. Fina stepped to the side so as not to spoil the surprise.

He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a sweater that had patches on the elbows. He looked professorial with a book in his hand as he answered the door.

“I told you I wasn’t done with you,” Fina said, stepping forward.

Walter sneered and started to close the door.

“You’ll want to hear what I have to say.” She held up Renata’s file. “Trust me.”

“I should call the police. This is harassment.”

“Harassment, tenacity. It’s so hard to tell the difference, but by all means, do whatever you feel is necessary. I’m a fan of law enforcement.”

Walter folded his arms so the book was tucked under one armpit. He studied the elaborate stone pattern under his feet before casting the door open. Fina followed him to his office, where he sat down behind his desk, rigid as a sentry.

“Where’s Lucy?”

“Not here,” Walter responded tersely.

“This will be brief, because you don’t need to say anything,” Fina said. “I think you’re a fraud.”

Walter scoffed.

“Please, act indignant. I find it entertaining.” Fina made a tour of the room, gazing at the bookshelves and peeking behind the love seat. “Even if you got rid of the files, you’re screwed. The proof is in the pudding, so to speak. You know, the offspring.”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

“You told donors and prospective parents that you ran tests for which you were paid handsomely. But you didn’t run the tests. You pocketed the money and falsified the results instead, and maybe it would have stayed your little secret, but then Hank Reardon had to come along with his fancy insurance physical.”

Walter nudged a letter opener on his desk with his fingertip. The handle was shiny and black with a mother-of-pearl inlay, the blade long and tapered. Fina went over and picked it up. A stab wound would be a fitting end to this case, but she just didn’t have the energy to staunch her own bleeding.

She pointed the letter opener at Walter. “Hank found out that he had something you told him he didn’t, and I think he was going to make your life miserable. What was it exactly that he had?”

Walter swallowed. “I can’t possibly divulge patient information to you.”

“But that’s why you took those files from the clinic, right? So that no one could prove that the tests weren’t actually run?”

“Missing files are hardly proof of anything.”

“Oh, but Walter, that’s the beauty of my job. I’m not a prosecutor; I don’t need proof. I’m like a defense attorney; I just need doubt. What do you think would happen if the mothers from 1994 sat down and compared notes?”

Walter grimaced.

“Or a reporter? What if a reporter got a tip that the region’s most successful cryobank was built on lies and false data?”

Walter leaned forward and glared at her. “There are thousands of babies, thousands of happy families, who wouldn’t exist if not for Heritage. You’re just being spiteful if you try to tarnish that.”

“Was Hank spiteful when he found out he was a carrier for the cystic fibrosis gene?”

Walter flinched. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fina shrugged. “Maybe I don’t, but does that even matter nowadays?” She walked to the door and put the letter opener on a shelf. “You’re a creep, Walter, with a God complex, and you prey on people’s vulnerability. Shame on you.”

Fina strode out of the house, slamming the front door in her wake. On the drive back to the city, she contemplated who would make Walter’s life more miserable: Renata or the reporter, Dan Rubin. It was a wonderful quandary that delighted her all the way to the city.

•   •   •

She was starting to feel like she was besties with the Reardons’ maid. Fina stood in her usual spot in the foyer as the maid went to find the lady of the house, but Fina soon decided that she’d done enough waiting. No one else was around, so she got into the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. A minute later, the doors drew open and she picked her way across Danielle’s art studio. Most of the space looked
the same, except for a now empty corner that had been littered with canvases during her last visit.

She perused the room, not sure exactly what she was looking for, but certain that she’d find something. On the table near the couch, Fina picked up a stack of photographs and flipped through them. They were mostly landscape shots, some buildings, and children playing. Fina stopped at one, certain the setting was familiar but unable to place it.

“What are you doing up here?” the maid asked. Her speech was hurried, as if she was flustered.

“I’m waiting for Danielle.”

“Mrs. Reardon isn’t here, and you were supposed to wait in the foyer.”

Fina gazed at the photos again. “Oh, sorry. I misunderstood.”

“Put those down.” The woman strode over and took the photos from Fina’s hand. She placed them facedown on the table. “You need to leave.”

“When will Danielle be back? We had a meeting scheduled.”

“She has a benefit tonight at the Saveena Gallery for Hank’s House. I don’t know why she scheduled a meeting. She won’t be home all day.” The maid gestured toward the elevator.

Fina didn’t take the hint, so the maid walked back to the elevator and picked up the phone mounted on the wall. “Could you please send Mike up to Mrs. Reardon’s studio? There’s an intruder.”

“That’s a little dramatic. I’m leaving.” Fina walked over to the elevator.