Long Lost - By Harlan Coben Page 0,72

in cord-blood stem cell research or storage. I just wanted to make that clear."

He had a wide smile.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked.

The smile faltered just a wee bit. "No, but we have five on staff."

"What kinds of doctors?"

"CryoHope has leaders in all the fields." He handed me a brochure and pointed to the list of five doctors. "We have a geneticist who works with inherited diseases. We have a hematologist who works on the transplant side of things. We have an obstetrician-gynecologist who is a pioneer in the area of infertility. We have a pediatric oncologist who is doing research with stem cells to find cancer treatments for children."

"So," I said, "let me ask you a hypothetical."

He leaned forward.

"I store my baby's cord blood. Years pass. Now I get sick with something. Maybe you don't have a cure yet, but I want to try something experimental. Could I use the cord blood?"

"It's yours, Mr. Kadison. You can do with it what you want."

I had no idea where to go with this. I looked at Esperanza. She offered up nothing.

"May I talk to one of your doctors?" I asked.

"Are there any questions I haven't been able to answer?"

I tried to think of another avenue. "Do you have a client named Rick Collins?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Rick Collins. He's a friend of mine, recommended you. I wanted to make sure he's a client."

"That information would be confidential. I'm sure you understand. If someone were to ask about you, I would say the same thing."

Nowhere.

"Have you ever heard of a charity named Save the Angels?" I asked.

His face shut down.

"Have you?"

"What is this?" he asked.

"I just asked a question."

"I explained to you the process," he said, rising. "I suggest you read the literature. We hope that you choose CryoHope. Best of luck to you both."

OUT on the curb I said, "The bum's rush."

"Yep."

"Win had a theory early on that maybe the blood they found at the murder scene was cord blood."

"It would explain a lot," Esperanza said.

"Except I don't see how. Let's say Rick Collins did store his daughter Miriam's blood. So then what? He comes here, has it-what?-unfrozen, brings it to Paris, and it gets spilled on the floor when he's murdered?"

"No," she said.

"Then what?"

"We're missing something obviously. A step or a few steps. Maybe he had the frozen sample sent to Paris. Maybe he was working with some doctors in an experimental program, human testing, that our government wouldn't approve of. I don't know, but again-does it make more sense that the girl survived this car accident and has been hiding for ten years?"

"Did you see his face when we mentioned Save the Angels?"

"Hardly surprising. They're a group that protests abortions and embryonic stem cell research. Did you notice how his rehearsed spiel stressed that cord blood has nothing to do with the stem cell controversy?"

I mulled that over. "Either way, we need to look into Save the Angels."

"No one answers their phones," she said.

"Do you have an address for them?"

"They're in New Jersey," she said. "But."

"But what?"

"We're running in circles here. We've learned nothing. And reality check: Our clients deserve better than this. We gave them our word we would work hard for them. And we're not."

I stood there.

"You are the best agent ever," she said. "I'm good at what I do. I'm very good. I'm a better negotiator than you'll ever be, and I know how to find more money-making venues for our clients than you do. But we get clients because they trust you. Because what they really want is for their agent to care about them-and you're good at that."

She shrugged, waited.

"I get what you're saying," I said. "Most of the time I get us into these messes to protect a client. But this time it's bigger. Much bigger. You guys want me to stay focused on our personal interests. I get that. But I need to see this through."

"You have a hero complex," she said.

"Duh. That's hardly a news flash."

"It makes you fly blind sometimes. You do the most good when you know where you're going."

"Right now," I said, "I'm going to New Jersey. You go back to the office."

"I can take a ride with you."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Too bad, you got one. We go to Save the Angels. If that's a dead end, we go back to the office and work all night. Deal?"

"Deal," I said.
Chapter 29

A major dead end. Literally.

We followed the car's GPS to the office building located in Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey, at the