Most Wanted

Chapter Six

“Who are you calling?” Christine asked, as Marcus pressed a number into his cell phone. Still in his towel, he had gone for his phone as soon as he’d seen that the sperm was unavailable. He didn’t seem upset, only determined, but Christine was panicking. Her mouth was dry, her heart was pounding. She kept refreshing the laptop screen, thinking there must have been some mistake with the website.

“I’m calling Homestead.”

“But they work through Davidow.”

“Homestead sold us the sperm and they’re going to answer to us.” Marcus brought the phone to his ear.

“Don’t you think we should call him first?” Christine couldn’t think clearly. Her emotions tumbled one over the other: fear, disbelief, agony, shock. She didn’t know if she was making too much of it, or too little. She felt sick to her stomach again, not knowing if it was from her pregnancy, the turn of events, or both.

“I’m not going to ask anybody for permission to find out what I need to know.”

“Not for his permission, just to see if he talked to them.” Christine didn’t even know why she was fussing at him. Marcus was great in an emergency, a logical thinker with an innate mechanical sense. He was tailor-made to be an architectural engineer, working every day to make buildings functional and structurally sound, and he had endless patience for calculating stresses and loads, as well as hammering out the details of electrical, heating, plumbing, and energy efficiency systems, which had become a growing specialty of his firm.

“Davidow must have called Homestead. It’s too coincidental that our donor comes off the shelves after you phoned him.”

Christine couldn’t deny that Marcus might be right. Still, she couldn’t collect her thoughts.

Marcus said into the phone, “Hello, my name is Marcus Nilsson, and my wife conceived about two months ago using Donor 3319. I would like to speak with someone in charge about him. Yes, I’ll hold for the assistant director.”

Christine sat straighter in bed, trying to get her act together. “Can you put it on speaker?”

“Yes.” Marcus hit the SPEAKER button, then a woman’s voice came on the line.

“Mr. Nilsson, this is Lee Ann Demipetto. How may I help you?”

“My wife conceived using sperm from Donor 3319 and she is almost two months pregnant. We saw a news report today that a man named Zachary Jeffcoat was arrested for serial murder in Pennsylvania, and my wife is concerned that he is our donor. Now we see that Donor 3319’s sperm has been taken off the shelves. We’d like to know if Donor 3319 is Zachary Jeffcoat.”

“Mr. Nilsson, we usually deal with your healthcare provider-”

“I understand that, but I’d like you to deal with me.” Marcus kept his tone firm and controlled. “Is Donor 3319 Zachary Jeffcoat?”

“Mr. Nilsson, I did have a phone conversation tonight with Dr. Davidow, and he told me of your concerns. We are going to investigate this matter, and we agreed that in an abundance of caution, we would remove 3319 from our general inventory of available donors.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Is Donor 3319 Zachary Jeffcoat or not?”

Christine tried to stay calm while she listened. Her panic was giving way to stone cold fear. If Marcus was worried, then she was really worried.

“Mr. Nilsson, I’m sorry, but we cannot disclose that information. If you review the contract you signed with Homestead-”

“I didn’t sign any contract.”

“I have the file in front of me, and you did sign a contract. I’m looking at a scanned copy of your signature and your wife’s signature. It would’ve been given to you by Dr. Davidow or one of his associates.”

Christine remembered their signing the contract, four pages of fine print, probably in her file. She didn’t remember reading it, but she would’ve signed anything to get a baby.

“Mr. Nilsson, do you recall that contract now? Paragraph 27 of your agreement clearly states, ‘Homestead will not under any circumstances release identifying information on our donors to any other party, including the parents of individuals conceived using Homestead donor sperm.’”

“So you’re not going to answer my question?”

“No, I can’t. The terms of our contract with you are clear. In addition, we have a contractual relationship with 3319, which states explicitly that we promise to keep his identity anonymous, under any and all circumstances.”

“So you really won’t tell me?” Marcus raised his voice.

“I’m legally bound to 3319 not to.”

“Legally bound to a serial killer, over a paying customer? Over us?”

“In any event, Mr. Nilsson.”

Christine’s heart hammered. Demipetto sounded so final, her voice rich with authority, as if she had been ready for the call.

“Mr. Nilsson, our legal requirement that we keep confidential the identity of our sperm and egg donors is the cornerstone of Homestead and every other bank in the country. In addition, 3319 stated explicitly in his interview that he did not want his identity revealed because of his parents’ religious beliefs, which conflicted with his own.”

Marcus scoffed. “What kind of religious beliefs does a serial killer have?”

“I understand your concern, and we hope that you will understand our concern. Homestead helps over twelve thousand women a year to conceive, and the integrity of our process is of paramount importance to us. The keystone of our system is the anonymity of our donors-”

“Can you at least tell me his birth date?”

“No.”

“Place of birth?”

“No.”

“When did he make the donation?”

“I can’t disclose that.”

“Can you verify that he’s in medical school? He had been accepted when he filled out the form.”

“The information we are given by our donors is verified, to the extent possible, at the time of donation. We do not keep ongoing tabs on our donors, and you can understand how updating this information would be beyond our means.”

Christine felt herself slump backwards against the headboard, suddenly weak. She tried to wrap her mind around what she was hearing, the shock settling into her very bones.

“No, I don’t understand that,” Marcus shot back, irate. “I think that’s your responsibility. I own a business, and I stand behind my relationships to my clients.”

“Homestead is not a business, per se-”

“Of course it is. You charged me for the sperm. What screening do you do for your sperm donors, specifically?”

“We screen for chlamydia, HIV one and two, hepatitis B, gonorrhea, hepatitis C, syphilis. We do genetic screening for cystic fibrosis, spinal muscular atrophy, and various hemoglobins for thalassemia. We do a standard CBC and chem panel. Our sperm samples meet current FDA and Tissue Bank licensing protocol at the time of release, which you will see at paragraph 17 of your contract and-”

“I’m not talking about blood panels. This is a situation where someone is arrested for serial killing. Do you do criminal-background checks?”

“Yes.”

“You checked our donor’s criminal record?”

“Yes, or he would not have been approved for donation.”

“So Donor 3319 had no criminal record?”

“As I said, no one is approved with a criminal record.”

Marcus shook his head. “That doesn’t answer my question, but okay.”

Suddenly a text alert sounded on Christine’s phone, and she glanced at the screen. The banner showed it was Lauren, and the text read, Call Me. The website is changed. Christine picked up the phone and texted back, On it.

Marcus was asking Demipetto, “Do you do psychological checks?”

“We screen for immediate family with a mental illness, such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. You can see that in the online donor profiles.”

“But that relies on the donor’s say-so.”

“Yes, and we note that in every donor profile, including 3319’s. It reads, ‘The above family and medical history, and all other information, has been self-reported by the donor. We work with each donor to obtain as complete and accurate information as possible, but we are unable to completely rule out the existence of health or other information that is not known or that remains unreported to us.’”

“You’re missing my point. This isn’t health information.”

“True, but this falls within ‘other’ information, such as a subsequent arrest or even any other adverse occurrence, such as a donor who developed alcoholism or a substance-abuse problem, as well as late-onset cancer or any other illness. This is not something we warrant against, nor could we be expected to-”

“But a serial killer is somebody with major psychological problems. A sociopath.” Marcus raised his voice, but only slightly. “How could you not pick that up? What testing do you do for psychological problems?”

“Homestead uses Myers-Briggs-”

“Myers-Briggs is an employment test.”

“It’s used in a variety of applications to classify temperament, which is something that many of our sperm and egg recipients are interested in-”

“But any idiot can see which is the right answer to yield the right result. If I answer yes to the questions about liking people and making friends easily, I’m an extrovert. Anybody smart enough to be a serial killer knows how to manipulate that test.”

“We can’t be expected to account for intentional deception-”

“Then how are we protected? How can we have confidence in your product?” Marcus raked his wet hair back with his hand. “Is Donor 3319 even a medical student? Did you check that out, or did you just take his word for it?”

“We ascertained, at the time of his application and interview, that 3319 was accepted as a medical student to an accredited medical school. I can assure you, we will begin our investigation of this matter tomorrow-”

“How long does it take you to investigate?” Marcus threw up his free hand. “You have a file, a list somewhere that tells you exactly the identity of Donor 3319. It will take you three minutes to look that up. You probably know the answer to this question right now. Tell me if it’s him or not.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Nilsson.”

“Is that why you took him off the shelves? Because you looked up the file and you saw that Donor 3319 is Zachary Jeffcoat?”

Christine didn’t want to think about what Marcus was saying, about the implications. He was acting like it was true. Like they wouldn’t have taken it off the shelves if it wasn’t true. Like they wouldn’t tell the truth because they wanted to keep it secret. And the only way they’d want to keep it secret was if Donor 3319 really was Zachary Jeffcoat. Murphy lifted his head from his paws, watching her.

“Mr. Nilsson, we removed 3319 from general inventory out of an abundance of caution. That same is true, I might add, of the other samples you purchased, which are stored in our tanks and reserved for you.”

“What other samples?” Marcus frowned, confused, but Christine knew what Ms. Demipetto was talking about. When they had picked Donor 3319, they’d bought the standard set of three vials, in case the pregnancy didn’t take the first time. They were paying storage fees on the two remaining vials; Christine had just written the check.

“Mr. Nilsson, I will direct you to paragraph 15 of your agreement, where it states, ‘I understand that Homestead reserves the right to retain any samples that I have purchased if an unforeseen situation arises where, at the complete discretion of Homestead, it is necessary to do so. In such an event, Homestead shall not reveal the reason for retaining the samples, if issues of confidentiality or other privacy issues are involved. In the event that Homestead retains any samples that I have purchased, Homestead shall refund the cost of the samples but will not refund any storage fees I may have paid.’”

“So this is an ‘unforeseen circumstance’?”

“Certainly, it would fall easily within an ‘unforeseen circumstance.’ We share your concerns.”

“No you don’t. You can’t. You’re protecting your donor. My wife is pregnant. We’re the ones left holding the bag, so to speak.”

Christine cringed, hearing the way Marcus talked. She never thought about the baby that way. She didn’t know he thought about it that way.

“Let me ask you this,” Marcus was saying. “How long have you been using Donor 3319’s sperm?”

“We don’t disclose that information.”

“What about other women who use his sperm? There have to be others.”

“We don’t disclose that information, either. I will tell you that we are generally conservative in the number of vials we sell from a given donor.”

“Does Homestead have to notify those women if Donor 3319 is Jeffcoat? Will you notify us?”

Demipetto hesitated. “This is beyond my bailiwick, Mr. Nilsson. I doubt that we have a notification requirement with respect to a situation like this, where a donor is arrested for a crime.”

“Not just a crime, the serial killing of three women. Nurses, and he said he was going to be a medical student. Don’t you think we have a right to know that? Don’t you think we have a right to be informed?”

“Your rights are outlined by contract-”

“I’m not talking about law, I’m talking about what’s the right thing to do. How do you feel about yourself, knowing that you’re withholding an answer I have a moral right to know? That I deserve to know? It’s the truth, and you don’t own it!”

“Mr. Nilsson, please hold a moment.”

Marcus held on as the phone went dead, seeming not to remember Christine was in the bedroom. The phone clicked, signaling that Ms. Demipetto had come back on the line.

“Mr. Nilsson, I have to terminate this conversation. As you may know, Homestead is owned and operated by Fertility Assurance Associates, Inc., and I can have a representative call you tomorrow during office-”

“Don’t hang up. I want to talk about this now. I don’t want-”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been instructed to refer this to our corporate headquarters. I can assure you that we are following up on your concerns, and we will have someone contact you.”

“Did they tell you not to talk to me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nilsson. I must go. Thank you for your call, and I’ll have someone get back to you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

Marcus hung up, pursing his lips. “I’m calling the doctor. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.”

Christine nodded, numbly, her heart sinking, but Marcus was already scrolling through the contacts, finding a number, and pressing CALL.

“Hi, Dr. Davidow, this is Marcus Nilsson, with Christine on speaker.”

“Hi, Marcus, hi, Christine.”

“Hi,” Christine said, noting the difference in Dr. Davidow’s voice from earlier this evening. Before, he had sounded warm, lively, and interested, but now he sounded tense, worried.

“Dr. Davidow, I know you spoke with Christine today about Donor 3319. I see his sample has been taken off the shelves. Do you know why?”

“I did speak with Lee Ann at Homestead tonight. I was just about to call you-”

“And what did she tell you?”

“She said they would take 3319 off the shelves, pending investigation. I told her that was the most prudent course of action, and they agreed, out of an abundance of caution.”

“So is our donor Zachary Jeffcoat?”

“I don’t know, but the fact that 3319 was taken off the shelves does not mean that he’s Jeffcoat. Homestead took it off pending their investigation-”

“Doc, is it him or not?” Marcus raised his voice, still controlled.

“They won’t confirm or deny.”

“Level with me. They won’t tell you? They’re your subcontractor, for God’s sake!”

Dr. Davidow cleared his throat. “I know this is hard to understand, but they can’t disclose that information to me. They have a legal relationship to the donors and it’s sacred to them.”

“Do you really not know, or you don’t want to know?”

“I don’t know. I did ask them, but they wouldn’t confirm or deny.”

Christine slumped against the headboard, noticing that Murphy had crawled over to her, resting his head on her thigh. She put her hand on his soft, furry head, not knowing who was comforting whom.

“Dr. Davidow, did they do an investigation after they spoke with you but before they took him off the shelves?”

“I don’t know that.”

“Did they take him off the shelf while you were speaking with them?”

“No. 3319 was available when we were on the phone, and we spoke for maybe fifteen minutes, about a half hour or so ago. I don’t know when 3319 was taken off the shelves, but it was still available when I was speaking with them, so I’m sure it was in response to my call.”

“Doesn’t that mean it’s him?”

“No, it doesn’t. It means they’re going to investigate.”

“But how much investigation can it take? They have the guy’s name on file. It takes three minutes to look at a file.”

“No, Marcus, I’m sure the files concerning the identity of the donors are protected, if not encrypted. Not everyone in the Homestead office may have access. The assistant director may not even have access. We don’t know.”

“Okay, that I’ll buy.” Marcus stopped pacing, then nodded.

“Look, I’ve never had this situation before, or anything like it. I care about you and Christine, and I think you should come in tomorrow and we can talk this over.”

“Are they going to call you back and tell you the results of their investigation?”

“No they’re not. I asked them to and they declined.”

“But I have a right to know that information.” Marcus started pacing again. The dog swiveled his head around, watching him, too.

“It’s not a question of whether you have that right. It’s a question of what Homestead is obligated legally to tell you. Look, I just got off the phone with Michelle. I think you both should come have a session with her, at four o’clock.”

“I don’t need a therapy session, I need an answer. My wife could be carrying the baby of a serial killer.”

Christine felt the words like a blow. Hearing Marcus say it aloud made it so real. Tears sprang to her eyes. It was real. It was true. And she was lost, all was lost. Her dream of motherhood, of parenthood, of their new family, was over. Her thoughts raced. She knew Marcus would never think of the baby as his, would never see himself as the father, and the baby’s father was a killer, a murderer. But she was carrying the baby, it was still her baby, and she and the baby were all alone, on their own. She was holding the bag.

Marcus and Dr. Davidow kept talking on the phone, but their voices grew far away. Christine couldn’t hear anything they were saying, she couldn’t feel the dog’s head under her palm. Marcus was turning toward her, his forehead buckling in alarm, but she couldn’t speak. The bedroom fell away, the heavenly blue walls and soft lamplights vanished, and she felt herself slipping into blackness.

She didn’t have another thought before she fainted dead away.