The Panic Zone

51

Big Cloud, Wyoming

Emma tilted the bottle to shake the sleeping pills into her palm when the phone next to her bed rang.

Startled, she didn’t move.

It did not ring a second time because it was answered by the extension in the living room. Through her bedroom door, she heard Uncle Ned’s muffled voice involved in a conversation that included Aunt Marsha. Then someone approached her door and rapped on it softly.

“Emma?” Aunt Marsha said.

Emma poured all of the pills back into the bottle, capped it and put it under her pillow.

The door cracked open.

“Dear, I’m sorry to disturb you but there’s a call for you. It’s a reporter. I told him you were asleep but he insisted I get you.”

“A reporter? Is it that guy from the Gazette?”

“No, it’s a man from New York.”

“New York? Did he say why he was calling?”

“No, only that it was important that he speak to you. Do you want to talk to him? Or we could tell him to call back another time?”

Is this my sign? Emma wondered.

“No, I’ll take it here. Thanks.”

She swept her hair back and picked up the handset.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Emma Lane?”

“Yes.”

“Emma, my name is Jack Gannon. I’m a reporter with the World Press Alliance in New York. I’m sorry to impose on you at this time but I need to speak to you briefly. It’s important. Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, what’s this about?”

“Thanks, I’ll get to that, but first I need to confirm that I’ve reached the right person. Again, my apologies, but I have to ask this. Are you the Emma Lane whose husband Joe and son Tyler were in a recent car accident?”

Emma took a breath.

“Yes.”

“And have you had any dealings whatsoever with the Golden Dawn Fertility Corporation in Los Angeles California?”

A shiver rattled up Emma’s spine. She stifled a sob, covering her mouth with her free hand, feeling tears cascading over her fingers.

“We were clients.”

She glanced at Joe and Tyler’s picture on her nightstand.

“Please, tell me what this is about?”

“Your case at the clinic surfaced in a story I’m working on.”

“Our case? How? What kind of story?”

“It’s complex, Emma. I need to talk to you. I think you might be able to help me. Would you talk to me if I came to Wyoming to see you?”

Emma was overwhelmed by what was happening. After all she’d been through, was this call real? Before she answered Gannon, he asked another question.

“Emma, have any other reporters contacted you, anyone from the Washington Post or the L.A. Times?”

Gannon’s sobering tone cut through the haze that had nearly swallowed her. She felt Joe’s shirt, felt Tyler’s stuffed bear, felt a hand pulling her out of the abyss, felt her breathing quicken as she squeezed the handset.

“No. You’re the only one who’s called. I’ll meet with you if you answer my questions,” she said.

“I’ll try.”

“If I help you, will I find out what happened to my son?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I don’t think he was killed in the crash, I think he was stolen from it. Now, given what you know, is it possible someone took him? Or am I crazy?”

She waited for his answer. Everything depended upon it.

“Given what I know, anything is possible.”

“I have one more question,” she said.

“All right.”

“How fast can you get here?”