Chapter One
Patty Hartman had almost everything she needed. She had a digital camera with high magnification, a spare cap to use as a disguise, and a copy of today’s newspaper with a hole in the middle. Through it, she was keeping an eye on 42-year-old former construction worker Stanley Frimley, who claimed that a severe on-the-job back injury had rendered him permanently handicapped. A few houses down the block in this modest neighborhood of 1950s gingerbread homes, the fellow leaned heavily on his walker as he directed a gardener planting a bougainvillea. It was a lovely, peaceful scene washed by the May sunshine of the aptly named Safe Harbor, California. Yes, she almost had it all. Sitting in her beat-up but reliable sedan with her camera at the ready, she thought about the one thing she didn’t have and really, really needed. A porta-potty. Right now, she’d trade every man she’d ever loved and lost – grand total of one – for a portable potty. But that would have to wait because, in the yard, Stanley Frimley had started gesturing agitatedly at the gardener. She could read the guy’s lips: Needs to be closer to the fence … No, no, you idiot, not halfway across the yard! Whoa! The former surfer supposedly disabled by a fall on a construction site had just stepped away from his walker and taken a step forward, angrily shaking his headful of shaggy blond hair. Before she could switch on the video, though, he grabbed the walker and drooped over it like a lying, cheating flower in the hot sun. He hadn’t winced in pain or wobbled in the slightest. On top of that, the veteran surfer still looked plenty muscular considering his allegedly debilitated state. But one step and a buff physique weren’t enough evidence to prove he was defrauding the insurance company. Irritated, Patty settled back. One good thing about the near miss: for a few minutes, she’d forgotten her bladder. Surveillance was tough on women, but she refused to use gender as an excuse for anything. Ever since Alec Denny dumped her in high school and broke her girlish heart, she’d straightened her spine and toughened up. Around the corner, a black-and-white turned onto the street. A glow of recognition spread through Patty. For five years, until last month, one of those cruisers had been her second home. She and her partner Leo had poked into every corner of town while swapping wisecracks and catching scofflaws. As the car rolled by, the officer in the passenger seat glanced Patty’s way. No doubt wondering why some woman was sitting in a car on a residential street, not that there was anything noteworthy about her stick-straight blonde hair or what little was visible of her stocky figure. Suddenly Bill Sanchez’s gaze widened. He started to wave, caught her glare and subsided. Yeah, that would really help her cover, having Bill greet her like a long-lost buddy. They rolled past. For a fleeting moment, Patty wished she were with them. Not that she’d expected private detective work to be like some fast-paced TV show, but jeez. Stanley Frimley was so boring that watching a guy plant a bougainvillea was the highlight of the past week. Well, this was the new career she’d chosen. After losing out on a promotion, she’d accepted an offer from a detective she admired, Mike Aaron, to join Fact Hunter Investigations, the company he’d recently bought. Mike had a high opinion of her abilities, and Patty was determined to live up to it. During the past week, between conducting employee background checks for a local medical-device manufacturing company, she’d grown increasingly frustrated while observing Stanley. One morning, hoping to get closer without drawing attention, she’d borrowed a friend’s dog and walked it around the block so many times it started whining about sore paws. She’d heard clanking noises in Stanley’s garage that sounded suspiciously like an exercise machine, but you couldn’t produce that as evidence. Back to the bougainvillea, which the gardener had finally wedged into what Stanley deemed to be the right spot. Too close to the fence, in Patty’s opinion, because as the little plant beefed up it was going to thrust its elbows in every direction, but that wasn’t her problem. As the workman packed down the soil, Stanley swung around. To Patty’s dismay, his gaze fixed on her and a frown creased his brow. She’d been noticed. Now what? Pretend to be a Realtor examining the house for sale across the street? Nah. Time to cut her losses. Putting the car in gear, Patty slipped on her sunglasses and pulled away. With an effort, she avoided looking directly at the guy, but she could feel him watching. Maybe she should give up for today. What a relief to head to the nearest public restroom, at a supermarket two blocks away. Problem was, Stanley didn’t often venture into public view. If he ran true to form, he’d go back into his house and stay there until his twice-weekly foray to the store, driving an SUV with a blue handicap placard. Not only was the guy a lowdown phony, but he was forcing old ladies with heart conditions to trundle down long parking lanes while he stole their reserved spaces. She had to stop him, and this might be her best shot. Out of sight around the corner, Patty pulled to the curb. After shedding her blue blazer to reveal a plain T-shirt, she tucked her hair into a gray baseball cap. She already wore running shoes, so she was in good shape there. Quickly, she checked her appearance in the rear-view mirror. Nearly thirty, but she could pass for twenty-five and maybe younger if you didn’t look too closely. She’d never been the girly type. Apparently that was what Alec preferred, because according to gossip, he’d married an exotic beauty who could pass for a model. That was the problem with growing up in a small town: you couldn’t help hearing about your ex, even when you’d rather not. Like the news that he was back in town, setting up some kind of lab at the hospital. Well, so what? Ignoring her body’s demands, she freed her almost-brand-new skateboard from the trunk and set off. Better hurry. No telling when Stanley would go scuttling back into his shell. Must be hard on the guy, Patty mused as she zipped past a cheery bed of geraniums. According to his background report, Stanley used to enjoy sports like snowboarding, dirt biking and motocross as well as surfing. Had to give all those up, at least when anyone might be looking. Had to give them all up for a lifetime of free money that he didn’t deserve. Ahead, as the gardener’s truck rolled away, Stanley stood staring after it. His hands tightened on the walker and he rocked back and forth, jaw working. Longing for freedom from his self-imposed restraint? Patty took a couple of good pushes to work up speed. His head turned – good, he’d spotted her -- go for it! She slammed her foot on the back of the board and snapped a quick ollie jump to whet his appetite. Better not overdo it, or he might start wondering why she was so intent on performing tricks in front of him. Then she deliberately lost the board, landed smoothly and grabbed it off his lawn, where she pretended to examine it for scratches. Well, not entirely pretending. “Kind of a fancy board for a beginner,” the man sniped. “It’s my brother’s.” Patty hated lying. Except to scumbags. “Great graphics, huh?” She indicated the cartoon cop with flames spurting from his 9mm. Stanley shrugged. Weird to see him up close, after observing from a distance for the past week. “I’ve got two boards better than that,” he boasted. “I bet you’re terrific.” She wasn’t sure whether that passed for flirting, which had never been Patty’s strong point, but he seemed to buy it. “What happened to you, anyway?” “Construction accident.” “Tough break.” She held the board upright, so loosely it nearly slipped from her grasp. “Watch it!” Stanley grabbed the edge. “Your brother must be nuts, letting a freaking amateur like you borrow this.” If this was the man’s idea of how to talk to women, no wonder he still lived alone in his forties. Patty still lived alone, too, but that was different. Because I choose it. Since flirting hadn’t worked, she shifted to goading. “You’re too old for stuff like this anyway,” she jeered. “What’re you, sixty?” That did it. “Twit,” he muttered, and grabbed the board. “Watch how it’s supposed to be done.” A thunk onto the sidewalk, a rumble of wheels and he was off. Snatching the camera from her fanny pack, Patty started videoing. Flying in the opposite direction, throwing in a flip trick along the way, he didn’t notice, so she eased back to get the abandoned walker into the frame. Problem: his face didn’t show. And he’d just whizzed out of sight around the corner. She listened hard. Was he turning to head back or circling the block? She heard nothing but the murmur of a passing delivery van, the cheeping of some love-besotted bird and the angst-hyped voices from an afternoon soap opera drifting through a neighbor’s window. At last she caught the mutter of wheels on concrete and then he came bombing around the opposite bend, digging in on the toe edge to make the board turn sharply, showing off his skill. Patty caught it all. His thin face. The long stringy hair. His plaid shirt unbuttoned over the belly to reveal a stomach-churning amount of hair. “Hey!” He spotted the camera. “You can’t video me!” “But you’re way cool! You’ll be a sensation on U-Tube!” She winced, registering that she’d overdone the gee-whiz act. He halted in front of her and hopped off. “Wait a minute. You’re the woman from the car.” “What car?” “You’re a detective, damn you!” Patty cut off the video and backed away. “Aw, come on. I caught you fair and square.” Common sense dictated she should leave now. It was foolish to risk a confrontation, and Patty hated screwing up. Wanted to be the best, damn it. But she loved that skateboard. She’d custom-designed it herself on the Internet. The jerk stood there, gripping it and taunting, “Trade you for the camera.” “No way!” “I just want to delete what you shot. Scout’s honor.” “No deal. Sorry.” Dangerous moment. The guy had a hundred pounds on her and he was ticked off. Unless he pulled a weapon, though, Patty refused to give up. “You’re going to be sorry, all right.” He flexed his arm muscles. She decided to try logic. “Don’t you think you have enough problems without adding an assault and robbery rap, Mr. Frimley?” “My only problem is you.” “Getting into a fight isn’t going to help your claim of being disabled.” He was thinking that over, an obviously laborious process, so she grabbed the board. “Thanks.” Flung it down, jumped on it and pushed off. For a scary second, she thought he might give chase. That she’d end up bruised and sprawled across the sidewalk, camera gone, and that she’d have let down Mike. Then, across the street, a woman stepped outside and paused, key in hand, to stare at them. A witness. Excellent. By the time Patty wedged the board in the back seat, jumped into the car and started up, Stanley was retreating into his house with the aid of the walker. Trying to salvage what he could of his pathetic cover, as if there was anything left to salvage. One more duty: Patty pulled up across the street, found the witness and made a note of her name and phone number. The woman said she’d be happy to talk later, but she was on her way out, running late to a doctor’s appointment. That was fine with Patty. She was finally free to drive to the supermarket. ¨ ¨ ¨
Whose brilliant idea had it been to locate the new embryology laboratory in the basement of Safe Harbor Medical Center? Alec Denny wondered as he finished reviewing the contractor’s latest report. It summed up the progress in installing a specialized water filtration system, which would clear the water of both organic and inorganic substances before it was used in embryo development. That lab and several others being assembled under his supervision lay a long elevator ride from his office here on the fifth floor, and a not-much-shorter ride from the egg retrieval rooms on the second floor. Oh, and he’d better not forget the fertility program support services, which had been given a suite on the first floor. It amazed him that the new program’s director, world-renowned fertility specialist Dr. Owen Tartikoff, had agreed to leave his longtime base in Boston for such an inconvenient setup. According to reports, the hospital had originally intended to convert a nearby dental building, but the sale fell through. Surely it would have been better to wait until another separate structure could be acquired rather than stick the program’s components into odds and ends of available space. And yet Alec was glad to be back in Safe Harbor. The seaside town, located in Orange County about an hour’s drive south of Los Angeles, had parks and a beach, as well as a harbor filled with sailboats and yachts. It was small enough to be friendly and large enough to offer excellent schools. After the turmoil of his divorce and custody battle, Alec appreciated the chance to put distance between his four-year-old daughter and her volatile mother. Being near Grandma Darlene would provide Fiona with the stability she deserved, in the community where he’d grown up. Frankly, he’d have moved to Antarctica if that’s what it took to protect his little girl. He’d let her down once. He’d never risk that again. A tap at the door announced the presence of the hospital administrator, Dr. Mark Rayburn. Built like a football player, the guy struck Alec as a gentle giant. His even temperament ought to prove a much-needed counterbalance to Owen’s hard-driving and sometimes caustic personality. Although during the past four years Alec had developed a smooth working relationship with Dr. T, he was glad for the chance to arrive in advance to get the lab up and running without having to explain and justify every decision. “How’s it going?” Mark asked. “On schedule, I hope.” The fertility program’s opening was set for September, although they’d be seeing patients informally before then. The hospital, which had been remodeled in recent years to specialize in maternity and other women’s medical issues, already had a number of obstetricians on staff. “Things are right on track.” Alec leaned back in the swivel chair and glanced out his window. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, a reminder of lazy childhood summers when his path through life had seemed so clear-cut. “How’re you settling in? Relocating from the East Coast can’t be easy on you and your daughter.” Mark lingered in the doorway. Alec would have offered him a seat, but so far his office furniture didn’t include one. “You must have a few old friends around here, right?” “Aside from my mother, I haven’t stayed in touch with anyone.” Especially not Patty, the girl he’d once loved. He’d heard from Darlene that she’d become a police officer, and didn’t look forward to the inevitable moment when he ran into her again. At the very least, she’d probably slap him with a ticket. “You haven’t run into any classmates? Seems like half our staff graduated from Safe Harbor High.” “Now that you mention it, yes. Several.” When one former schoolmate, a nurse, had invited him to accompany her to an upcoming wedding, Alec had agreed as a friendly gesture. She didn’t seem to consider it a date; mostly, she was eager to talk about her efforts to get pregnant as a surrogate for her sister. It was amazing how much private information women divulged when they discovered he was an embryologist. The fact that he had a Ph.D. rather than an M.D. didn’t seem to dissuade them. “I’m sure you’ll fit in,” the administrator said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” “Absolutely.” As Mark departed, Alec’s phone jingled with a melody that sent him on full alert. It belonged to Fiona’s nanny, who’d moved with them from Boston. She almost never called unless it was urgent. “Tatum. Anything wrong?” “Fiona’s fine,” she reassured him. Judging by the background noise, she was calling from her car. He’d made sure she had a hands-free phone, in accordance with California law. “It’s your mom.” That jolted him. At fifty-eight, Darlene was an active community volunteer and a force of nature. He’d never worried about her health. “Is she all right?” “At the park, she fell off the monkey bars and hurt her ankle.” Playing with Fiona, obviously. How typical of his mother. “We’re not sure if it’s sprained or broken. I’m taking her to the doctor.” Faintly, he heard: “Tell my son not to worry. I’ll be fine.” And another voice: “Is that Daddy? Hi, Daddy!” A surge of tenderness flooded Alec. He’d never imagined he could love anyone so intensely or completely as he did from the moment he first held his daughter in his arms. “How can I help?” he asked Tatum. “Her doctor’s in the medical building next to the hospital. I’m sure he’ll want X-rays, and her housekeeper’s out sick again, so I should stay with her.” For a twenty-three-year-old, the nanny was highly responsible. “Fiona’s likely to get bored. Any chance you could take her?” While Alec didn’t like to leave the office on a Thursday afternoon, he could read reports at home tonight. And if his daughter needed him, even to save her from a few hours of restless tedium, he’d be there. “You bet. I’ll meet you in front of the office building.” “See you in a couple of minutes.” Before he could click off, his mother announced, “We’re out of milk and breakfast cereal, and we could use a dozen eggs. Oh, and a loaf of bread.” Since she lived downstairs in the same condo building, they often shared meals. “I’ll pick them up on the way home,” Alec promised. “See you in a few,” Tatum said. “Bye, Daddy!” came the voice that always wrapped a warm blanket around his heart. “Bye, sweetheart.” Although his words probably went into Tatum’s ears rather than Fiona’s, he couldn’t resist answering. Alec packed his gear and made his way out. To the temp secretary holding down the fort, he explained that he was leaving for the day but reachable on his cell. He took the stairs, since climbing up and down those five flights often constituted his main form of daily exercise. On the first floor, Alec caught a whiff of grilled meat from the cafeteria, and added a roast chicken for dinner to his mental grocery list. Exiting through the staff door, he strode along the walkway between the two buildings, past flowerbeds brimming with pink and purple petunias. The air carried a hint of ocean brine. Alec had loved Boston’s intellectual ferment and the sense of being surrounded by history while vitally involved with the future. Coming back to Southern California felt like touring a past that belonged to someone else. Of course he’d visited his parents on occasion, and helped arrange his father’s funeral two years ago, but the trips had been tightly scheduled affairs. He’d deliberately skipped his ten-year high school reunion. In the weeks since his return, Alec hadn’t had much chance to slow down and breathe the salt air. He was almost glad events had conspired to give him an afternoon alone with his daughter, not that he would have wished an injury on Darlene. Climbing on the monkey bars. She’d certainly changed since his own childhood days. Ahead, he spotted a threesome emerging from the parking garage. Darlene Denny was limping as she leaned on the taller, thinner nanny. Then a little girl skipped into view from behind them, her light-brown hair woven into a thick braid like Tatum’s. “Daddy! Daddy!” Down the walkway she pelted, straight into Alec’s arms. He whirled her around, relishing the solid feel of her little body and the delicious way her face burrowed into his neck. “Hey, pumpkin. Kind of rough on your grandma today, huh?” he teased. “She hurt her ankle.” Fiona clung to him. He carried her to meet his mother and the nanny. “Mom, you don’t need to walk. You could have gotten out right in front of the building.” “I offered to let her off,” Tatum told him. “Nonsense.” Darlene grimaced. “It’s only a bruise.” “Tatum, thanks for handling this.” Alec couldn’t help noticing a hint of strain on the nanny’s face. She’d done him and Fiona a huge favor by relocating, leaving behind friends and family, and now she was going way beyond her job description. Although Tatum got regular time off – when Alec happened to be tied up on an evening or weekend, his mother handled babysitting duties - the housekeeper he shared with Darlene had been ill a lot. Often one of her nieces filled in, but when they weren’t available, Tatum grabbed a vacuum and set to work, despite Alec’s urging that she leave the chores to him. “I’m glad you can spend a few hours with Fiona. She’s been restless today.” The young woman guided Darlene toward the automatic door. “I guess we’ll see you when we see you.” “I’ll have dinner ready.” He shifted his grip on Fiona, who still hung on him. “You okay to walk, cutie, or are you crippled like Grandma?” His mother laughed, and Fiona wiggled to the ground so fast he nearly lost his balance. “Let’s go, Daddy. Can we buy ice cream?” “The low-sugar kind,” Tatum warned. “Got it.” His mother and the nanny disappeared into the building. Holding tight to the little girl’s hand, Alec walked her to his reserved space on the lower floor of the garage. There, he strapped her into the booster seat in the back. Grocery shopping with a child, he reflected as he put the engine in gear, wasn’t a simple toss-it-in-the-cart-and-check-out procedure. When he was in a hurry, it could be frustrating. Today, though, shopping with Fiona felt like an adventure. He looked forward to it.
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