Chapter Seven
Brody didn’t say a word as he climbed back into the cruiser, the file from Christina heavy in his hands. Remi slid into the passenger seat beside him, silent. She was no doubt giving him space but also processing everything that Christina had told them.
He didn’t start the engine. Instead, he pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over his mother’s contact before he hit the call button.
The phone rang twice before Sandra answered, and he put the call on Speaker. “Brody, is everything okay? Did something happen to you or to Remi?” she asked, both questions drenched in worry.
Brody stared out the windshield, the edges of the file digging into his palm.
Everything was far from okay. He was drowning in the memories of the past and no closer to finding his son, but with time definitely not on their side, he just jumped right into the reason for the call.
Well, he did take a necessary detour first.
“We’re okay,” he assured her. “How’s the baby?”
“Oh, he’s wonderful, Brody.” His mother’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “I fed and changed him, and now he’s sleeping.”
Brody hated to end that happiness he was hearing, but it had to be done. “Why did you go to the fertility clinic two years ago?”
There was a pause. A long one. “How did you know that?”
“Someone gave me a file with the info,” he answered. “Why did you go?”
More hesitation. “I, uh, was looking for closure,” his mother finally answered.
Brody’s chest tightened. Closure. The word felt foreign to him, like a language he didn’t speak. He’d been chasing that ghost for years and still hadn’t caught it.
“How did you expect to get it there, four years after Miranda was gone?” he pressed.
Sandra’s sigh was quiet but still plenty audible. “I thought maybe if I understood, if I could make sense of some part of it, I could let it go.”
Brody swallowed hard, the ache settling deeper.
“I talked to Dr. Langley, too,” Sandra continued. “I asked him why he didn’t stop Miranda’s fertility treatments when she was diagnosed with cancer. I mean, he must have known about the cancer, right?”
Brody didn’t have the answer to that. At the time, Langley had denied it, had insisted that Miranda had kept the diagnosis from him, too.
And maybe that was true.
Miranda had certainly kept it from her own husband.
Still, it had never felt right that her fertility doctor wouldn’t have known about her current medical condition. Miranda had had so many tests before the treatments had started, and Brody couldn’t imagine that those tests hadn’t continued throughout the entire process.
“I thought maybe if I knew why, I could stop asking myself if there was something I could have done to save her,” his mother muttered.
He heard the soft moan that Remi made, and he could see the pain and sorrow in her eyes. Reminders that she hadn’t gotten that closure either.
Brody had to look away from Remi. He didn’t have the energy to take on her grief, too. Instead, he focused on what he needed to learn. “What did Dr. Langley say to you, Mom?”
“He refused to discuss it,” Sandra said, her voice hardening.
“He got agitated, defensive. Told me it wasn’t my business and asked me to leave.
I did, but I went back a couple more times not to just his new office but to the Sanderson clinic.
” She paused. “Wait. You don’t think I had something to do with the stolen embryos? ”
“No,” he was quick to assure her. “No,” he repeated, and Remi murmured the same thing.
Brody knew there was zero chance his mother would have done that. But maybe she had seen or heard something that could help them.
“Those times you were at the Sanderson clinic, did you ever cross paths with Grace Turner or Tarrant Eddington?” he asked. It was a long shot, but still, two years ago would have been about the time Grace’s embryos had been stolen.
“Grace Turner, Tarrant Eddington,” his mother echoed as if giving that some thought.
“I’ve been reading about them on my phone since I put the baby in his bassinet.
I remember when Grace was murdered and the stories came out about her ex stealing some embryo and trying to use their baby to force her into clearing his name.
Such a horrible thing.” She hesitated. “That’s what’s going on now with you. ”
It wasn’t a question, but Brody settled for making a sigh of agreement. His mother was obviously worried that this would end with his murder. Or Remi’s. But Brody couldn’t let that possibility play into this. Thankfully, Remi seemed to feel the same way or else she wouldn’t be here.
“Mom, you never saw Grace or Tarrant?” he pressed, needing to keep the subject on the investigation and not on the personal nightmare going on inside him.
“No, I never did. I’m certain of that,” his mother insisted. “But there are some photos in the articles I’ve been reading, and I’m pretty sure I saw Grace’s sister, Christina, there at the clinic. I believe she was going through fertility treatments as well.”
That got Brody’s attention. Christina had certainly never mentioned that, and it wasn’t in any of the records he and Remi had accessed on the woman.
“Why do you think Christina was going through treatments?” he asked.
“Well, I remember she had on one of those plastic wrist bracelets they used to put on Miranda when she’d go back for a procedure. Why?” she questioned. “Do you think it’s important that she might have been a client?”
It could be. In fact, it could be damn important. And his mind began to spin with a theory.
Remi had said that Christina had jumped at the chance to raise her niece after Grace had been murdered. On the surface, that was probably what a lot of people would have done, but there might be something beneath the surface that appealed to her.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said. “I need to go. I love you,” Brody added before he ended the call.
He stared at the phone long after the call ended, his mother’s words still echoing in his head. Christina had maybe been a patient at the fertility clinic. The pieces of the investigation shifted again, the puzzle twisting into something darker, something uglier.
Remi broke the silence first, her voice low but carrying that same sharp edge that had settled in Brody’s chest. “If Christina was a patient there, what if her treatments failed?”
“And what if she’s the one who stole Grace’s embryo to have a child?” he finished for her.
Remi nodded. “She had access, money and enough influence to cover her tracks. But if Tarrant found out—”
“He’d have leverage,” Brody finished.
Remi turned to face him fully now, her expression etched with fresh concern.
“Tarrant could have found out about the baby and taken it.” She snapped her fingers as if something else had occurred to her.
“And Christina’s obsession with Tarrant might not solely be about revenge.
It could be about covering up what she did. ”
Brody didn’t say anything for a moment. He just tried to work through it all. “If Christina was a patient at the clinic and did what we think she did, she won’t admit it because she would be arrested. In fact, she’s likely hidden any evidence that could link her to the stolen embryo.”
Remi muttered some profanity and followed it with a groan of frustration.
“You’re right. We won’t get that answer from her so there’s no reason to go back in and talk to her.
But Dr. Langley might be willing to spill something, especially if it means pointing the finger at Christina and making himself look innocent. ”
Yes, that was exactly what Brody was thinking as he started the engine, then plugged in the address to the clinic. It was only six miles away, and since it was already past nine in the evening, the city traffic probably wouldn’t slow them down.
Brody only hoped that Eloise had been right about the doctor working late and that Langley would still be there when they arrived.
If not, they’d be paying Langley a visit at his home.
Because Brody was certain that the doctor had some answers, and he was going to get them tonight.
He had to find his son and bring him home.
The thought of his son stayed on Brody’s mind throughout the drive to Dr. Langley’s clinic. He’d been right about there being little traffic, so it wasn’t long before they pulled into the parking lot.
The building was large and sterile, like so many other medical complexes on the outskirts of San Antonio.
A few lights still burned inside, but there were only two vehicles in the parking lot.
Brody grabbed his phone and ran both plates.
One came back registered to a local cleaning service, the other to Dr. Curt Langley.
His gut tightened. He’s still here.
He and Remi were about to climb out of the cruiser, but his phone sounded with an incoming text from Jolene. Brody cursed when he read the message.
“Mellie Freemont died from a drug overdose two days ago,” he relayed to Remi.
She did some cursing, too. “Murder?”
“Maybe. It’s under investigation.”
And her death could point to Tarrant. The man could be cleaning house of anyone who’d crossed him or wasn’t actively helping him.
Either way, it meant the woman was literally a dead end.
Maybe the cops would be able to find something in her possession that would help, but Brody wasn’t holding out much hope of that.
He sent off a short reply to Jolene, thanking her for the quick results, and they climbed out of the cruiser. As they approached the entrance, the cleaner—an older man in gray coveralls that sported the patch of the cleaning service—pushed through the doors, carrying a large black trash bag.
Brody stepped in front of the man, showing him his badge. “Sheriff Walker. We need access to Dr. Langley’s clinic.”