Chapter 4

Jemima worked fast.

The same afternoon she got the signed retainer, both the divorce retrial and the debt retrial applications went in to the court together.

The evidence chain was solid, and with the legal aid center's backing behind it, the court approved the retrial and issued an investigation order without much delay.

Tuesday morning, Jemima and I walked into the records room of Fairview Hospital's fertility department with the order in hand.

A young nurse sat at the front desk, head down, scrolling on her phone.

"Excuse me." Jemima slid the investigation order and her bar card across the counter. "We're here to pull a fertility treatment file opened eighteen years ago."

The nurse glanced up and took them without much interest.

"Name?"

"The husband is Stan Lambert. The wife is Deborah Whitney."

The words were barely out before the nurse's hand jerked and a couple of pages slipped straight to the floor.

She scrambled to pick them up, and the color visibly drained from her face.

"That... that's too far back."

She stammered and backed away.

"Files from eighteen years ago were destroyed a long time ago. There's nothing to find."

Jemima said nothing. She just watched her.

Watched until sweat was beading on the nurse's forehead.

"Retention period for medical records: outpatient files no fewer than fifteen years, inpatient files no fewer than thirty."

Jemima rapped a knuckle on the counter, her voice rising.

"Fertility treatment involves ethics review and identity verification. Those are long-term-hold files. You're sure they were destroyed?"

"Obstructing a judicial investigation doesn't just cost you your nursing license. It carries legal liability. One nurse. Can you carry that?"

A few sentences dropped on her, and the nurse came apart completely.

"I... I'll go ask the director."

She grabbed the phone and bolted into the back office like she was fleeing.

We waited in the hall.

The clock on the wall ticked.

Ten minutes later, the office door opened.

Out came a middle-aged man with a heavy paunch, in a white coat.

The badge on his chest read: Director, Fertility Department. Thomas Whitney.

I knew that face.

I'd seen it as a kid, on Stan's phone. The "cousin" Deborah made a point of visiting on every holiday.

He was the one who'd used his position to forge a marriage certificate for that pair, Stan and Deborah, so they could open a file and do IVF at the hospital without a hitch.

Thomas came up to us, ran his eyes over my face, and gave a smile that never reached anything.

"Sorry. We have rules. Medical files involve third-party privacy. Even with an investigation order, they can't just be pulled."

He pushed the order back toward Jemima, sure of himself.

As long as the file never came out, the bigamy charge couldn't be filed.

Jemima didn't take the order back. She smiled.

Like she'd expected this, she produced a letter stamped by the court.

A lawful pre-litigation evidence-preservation order.

The hospital couldn't refuse it.

Jemima's voice went cold.

"Or would you rather I take this order to the shareholders and the hospital president?"

The color drained out of Thomas's face in an instant, but he held on and pushed back.

"There are too many files and records... Three days. I'll have it for you in three days."

I opened my mouth to say they were stalling on purpose.

Jemima shot me a look.

"Fine. We'll be back in three days to collect the documents, right on time."

Outside the hospital gate, Jemima gave me a sly little smile.

"Don't panic. We're waiting to land a bigger fish."

I didn't understand.

Not until that night, when I got a call from a number I didn't know.

I picked up, and a voice came through from the other end, thickened with weight and dripping with condescension.

"Cordy, it's Dad."