Birthright

much better that makes me feel.” She let herself look into Vivian’s eyes. She let herself see. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
    “No, neither do I.”
    “But right now, I’d really like to look at the pictures. Why don’t we take them back to the kitchen? I’ll make coffee.”
    “That would be absolutely great.”
    W hile Suzanne and Vivian spent two emotional hours going through Callie’s pictorial history over coffee and crumb cake, Doug once again sat in Roseanne Yardley’s office.
    “You didn’t mention you were Suzanne Cullen’s son.”
    “Does it make a difference?”
    “I admire a woman who achieves success on her own terms. And I attended a conference some years ago on children’s health and safety. She was a speaker. A powerful one, who spoke eloquently of her own experience. I thought then she was a very brave woman.”
    “I’ve begun to see that for myself.”
    “I’ve spent most of my life concerned with the health and well-being of children. And I’ve always considered myself astute. It’s difficult to accept I might have been in any way involved with a man who exploited them, for profit.”
    “Marcus Carlyle arranged to have my sister taken and sold. He undoubtedly did the same with a number of others. And he very likely used you. A casual mention of apatient. Parents who may have lost a child and were unable to conceive another. Relatives of parents who were childless. One or more of your patients might very well have been a baby stolen from another part of the country.”
    “I spent some difficult hours thinking of those things. You won’t get to Lorraine,” she said after a moment. “Richard will block you there. And to be frank, she’s not particularly strong. She never was. Nor did she ever exhibit any interest in Marcus’s work. But . . .” She slid a piece of paper across the desk toward him. “This might be a better, more useful contact. To the best of my information that’s Marcus’s secretary’s location. I know people who know people who knew people,” she said with a sour smile. “I made some calls. I can’t promise that’s accurate or up-to-date.”
    He glanced down, noted Dorothy McLain Spencer was reputed to live in Charlotte. “Thank you.”
    “If you find her, and the answers you’re looking for, I’d like to know.” She rose. “I remember something Marcus said to me one evening when we were discussing our work and what it meant to us. He said helping to place a child in a stable and loving home was the most rewarding part of his job. I believed him. And I would swear he believed it, too.”
    L ana found herself smiling the minute she heard Doug’s voice over the phone. Deliberately, she made her voice breathless and distracted. “Oh . . . it’s you. Digger,” she said in a stage whisper, “not now.”
    “Hey.”
    “I’m sorry to tell you this way, but Digger and I are madly in love and running off to Bora Bora. Unless you’ve got a better offer.”
    “I could probably swing a weekend at the Holiday Inn.”
    “Sold. Where are you?”
    “On my way to the airport. I’ve got a line on Carlyle’s secretary, so I’m heading to Charlotte to check it out. With the connections, it’s going to take me all damn dayto get there. I wanted to let you know where I’d be. Got a pad and pencil?”
    “I’m a lawyer.”
    “Right.” He gave her the hotel he’d booked. “Pass that on to my family, will you?”
    “ASAP.”
    “Anything going on I should know about?”
    “I’m going to be able to move back into my office in a week. Two at the most. I’m pretty excited.”
    “No more leads on the arson?”
    “They know how, but not who. Same goes, to date, for the trailer. We miss you around here.”
    “That’s nice to know. I’ll call once I check into the hotel. When I get back, I’m taking Digger’s place.”
    “Oh, really?”
    “He’s out, I’m in. Nonnegotiable.”
    “A challenging phrase to a lawyer. Come back soon and we’ll talk about it.”
    She was still smiling when she hung up. Then immediately picked up the phone again to put the plan that had formed in her mind into action.
    T ime for a break, chief.”
    With her face all but in the dirt, Callie gently blew soil away from a small stone protrusion. “I’ve got something here.”
    Rosie cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve got something every day with your nice pile of bones. Makes the rest of us look like slackers.”
    “This is