Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,55
abandoned children who’ve come through these doors, but none that had leukemia.”
“Are you certain? Have you gone back through the records?”
Alice’s body stiffened. “I make it my business to know about the children that come through here. I can’t remember the name of every one over the years, but I can assure you that I’d have remembered one who had leukemia. And such a pretty child, too. I certainly would have remembered that face.”
Tommy couldn’t say he was surprised. Step by step, his suspicions were being confirmed. George hadn’t abandoned his sick daughter in Minnesota—he’d murdered her.
Last stop—the Mayo Clinic. His phone work back at the HIPP office had been helpful in working his way through the complex of campuses that made up the medical center. He knew just where he needed to go: If Angelina had been treated there, she would have ended up at either the Mayo Clinic Cancer Center or, more likely, Saint Mary’s Hospital, where pediatric medicine was practiced. Tommy easily maneuvered through the streets of Rochester and arrived at Saint Mary’s ten minutes later.
He’d called ahead and made an appointment with Dr. Jeffreys, head of the pediatric department. When he arrived, Jeffreys’s secretary brought him into the doctor’s office to wait for him. And wait. A half-hour later, he started to get fidgety. He’d never had the patience to sit and do nothing. Just as he stood to leave, the door opened and a short balding man with patches of red hair on the back and sides of his head walked in. Instead of hospital garb, he wore gray slacks and a navy blazer with a blue striped shirt and a dark red tie. He looked to be in his early forties, not old enough to have headed up pediatrics when Angelina was a toddler.
“I’m terribly sorry you had to wait so long,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Jeffreys. Did anyone offer you some coffee?”
“No, but I’m fine. I already had my java for the morning. I appreciate you making the time to see me. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
“Well, yes, I am, of course, but I’m here now and so are you, so tell me, how can I help you.”
Tommy handed the doctor Calhoun’s signed release and took out a picture of Angelina. “Have you ever seen this child? It would have been about nineteen years ago.”
“No,” Dr. Jeffreys answered quickly. “But at that time I was still doing my residency at Yale Medical School. What’s her name? I can check and see if there’s a record of her as a patient here.”
“Her real name was Angelina Calhoun, but she probably would have been registered under a different name.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tommy filled him in about Calhoun’s story.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to help you. None of the doctors in the peeds unit now were on staff back in 1990.”
“Do you know if any are still in the area, maybe in a private practice?”
“Daniels moved to our center in Miami, Goldstein retired and I’ve heard he’s moved, but I can’t say where, and Blonstein, well, he passed away suddenly last summer.”
It was like a broken record everywhere he went. Nobody knew anything. Was that the case because Angelina had never been here or because it was just too damn hard to search back nineteen years when he didn’t even know what name she’d have been given? Either way, he had nothing.
“I suppose I could post her picture in the doctors’ lounge,” Dr. Jeffreys offered. “If you have another copy of her photo I could post it in the nurses’ lounge as well. You never know.”
“Thanks, Doc. Anything would help. But you know, we’re running out of time here, so if someone recognizes her, they need to reach me ASAP.” Tommy thanked the doctor and left.
As he walked to his car his cell phone rang. “Tommy Noorland here.”
“Tommy, this is Helen, from Vital Records. I just finished the search. I’m sorry. Nothing came up.”
“Thanks, Helen. I appreciate you trying.”
Well, that’s it. I’m batting zero. If George was telling the truth, I don’t think we’ll ever find out.
CHAPTER
19
He’d stared at the computer screen for twenty minutes, transfixed by the half-column story in the Indiana Star. He’d almost missed it. Now he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Indiana State Superior Court denies bid to exhume dead child’s body.” That was the headline. He had just scanned the page when the name “George Calhoun” screamed out.