Shadows of Lancaster County (42 page)

I told her about the family quilt we had discovered when we cleared out my grandparents’ belongings in Dreiheit. It had been in the bottom of a trunk, and once we got a good look at it, everyone in the family had been excited about it except me. When the appraiser shared that excitement and suggested that we try to place it with a collector or a museum, I was glad to see it go.

“Why did you not like it?” Rebecca asked. “Was the needlework poor?”

I shook my head, wondering how to explain.

“No, the needlework was fine. And despite its age the fabric was still in pretty good shape. It was the way they carried out the design. The thing had six squares, with a scene in each square. They were supposed to be Bible scenes, but whoever made it had gotten the stories kind of wrong. It bugged me. Like, the first one was obviously supposed to be the story of Moses, but instead of the Jewish girl floating her brother in a basket to Pharoah’s daughter, it looked like Pharoah’s daughter had put the baby in a basket, covered it up with rocks or something, and was handing it over to the Jewish girl. It was just very, very strange.”

Rebecca giggled. “That was not an Amish quilt. We would never show scenes with people.”

“I know. I think that’s why it was valuable, because it was so unique.” We reached the waiting room and came around the corner to see Lydia and Caleb sitting together and talking in hushed tones, having what looked
to be a very serious conversation. Rebecca had stopped at the water fountain, but I stepped toward them, my stomach clenching at the thought that Bobby had taken a turn for the worse. When I asked what was going on, they both looked up at me, surprised.

“We are discussing my…situation,” Caleb said, and then as if to demonstrate he strummed a few licks of air guitar.

I glanced at Lydia, who had tears in her eyes but was smiling.

“Let me just say that many of my prayers have been answered today,” she told me.

Just then, the nurse appeared in the doorway to tell us we could see Bobby for five minutes each hour, one at a time. Of course, I deferred to Lydia, but she shook her head.

“I can wait until the next hour,” she told me. “You go now. Is more important that you get the answers you need, to find out who did this to Bobby and why.”

She was right. I went with the nurse, following as she led me into the intensive care unit and past a nurses’ station so high tech that it looked like a NASA Command Center. When we reached a glass door, she opened it to reveal my brother, much cleaner than he had been last night, practically swathed in bandages from head to toe and looking like someone who had just narrowly escaped death. Tears filled my eyes immediately.

“That bad, huh?” he rasped.

Crossing to the bed, I wanted to embrace him but didn’t dare. Instead, I just leaned in close and patted the only unbandaged place I could find on his arm.

“No, not that bad. You’re alive, that’s what counts.”

“Ah, Bobanna,” he whispered, closing one eye, the other covered with a bandage. “Somehow, I knew you’d grab the first visitation slot.”

We both smiled.

“Lydia seemed to think it would be more prudent, considering that we’ve only got five minutes and a ton of questions for you.”

He took a deep breath, the beeps on one of his monitors picking up and then slowing down again.

“No pleasantries, then?” he teased, opening his eye again.

“Sure. You look great, how’ve you been, done anything interesting lately?” I teased back, twin tears spilling over my smile.

“Ha-ha,” he whispered, and I could tell that it hurt for him to talk. “Point taken. And you do look great, by the way. When I saw you last night, I thought you were an angel, there to take me to heaven.”

“Sorry. Just a sister, there to get you to the hospital.”

He took a few deep breaths, and I used the moment to look around and see the various machines and contraptions that were hooked up to him.

“Who ran you off the road, Bobby?”

“I don’t know. A dark car, not too big.”

“Who killed Doug?”

“I don’t know that, either. He called and told me to meet him there, but when I came in…” His voice trailed off as he took another deep breath. “When I came in, he was lying on the floor. Dead. I was checking his pulse just to make sure. Then I heard a noise above me and looked up to see a big box falling toward me. I rolled out of the way in time. And then I left. Fast as I could. But you already knew all of that.”

I shook my head.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry Bobby, but I couldn’t remember how we were supposed to communicate. I never read whatever you left for me.”

He was quiet for a moment and then finally, surprisingly, lifted his pointer fingers and scraped one across the other in a “tsk-tsk” motion.

“You don’t remember? You said hide it in plain site. Obscure any words that might flag and post it to a blog or a MySpace or a Facebook.”

“What title did you use?”

“What else? It’s on Blogspot, under ‘bananafanafofana.’ ”

The door opened, and the nurse peeked inside, warning me that I only had one more minute. When she was gone, I leaned closer to Bobby and spoke in a hurried whisper.

“Did Dr. Updyke modify Isaac’s genes?”

Bobby nodded.

“And the new baby’s too?”

He shook his head no.

“The embryo tested negative, so he didn’t have to.”

“Did the doctor do what he did to Isaac with your knowledge, Bobby? Or was he acting on his own?”

“It’s all on the blog. Why don’t you read that and get back to me?”

“I found your keys, broke into the archives, and stole a file with the name of ‘Jensen’ on it. I thought it would be about Isaac, but instead it was about me.”

“You?” Bobby asked, so startled that he jerked his head up off the pillow. Wincing sharply, he lowered it back down. “Why you?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I was never treated at the WIRE in my life.”

“Sorry, sis. I have no idea.”

I could see the nurse hovering, but I wasn’t ready to go.

“Who do you think did this to you, Bobby? Who do you suspect?”

He closed his eye and exhaled a ragged breath.

“I spent four days in that black pit with nothing to do but think. Even after all of that, your guess is as good as mine. All I know is it had to be someone who would—”

“Time’s up,” the nurse said, opening the door.

“Someone who would benefit heavily from keeping things quiet,” he finished.

“Updyke?” I asked.

“I hope not.”

“Mr. Wynn?”

“I doubt it.”

“Reed Thornton?” I suggested.

Bobby’s eye flew open on that one. But before he could say anything else, the nurse took me by the elbow and escorted me from the room.

Back in the waiting room, Lydia peppered me with questions, but I didn’t want to take the time to respond. More than anything, I needed access to the Internet, to find the letter Bobby had posted on an anonymous blog that had been intended for me.

I answered what I could for Lydia about how Bobby looked and sounded, but then I told her I had to do something and that I would be back soon. Without waiting for her reply, I raced to the elevator and took it to the first floor. At the information desk, I asked where I could find a computer to go online. The woman gestured toward a single workstation in the corner.

There, I accessed the Internet and typed in the web address where I would find Bobby’s secret message to me. As one simple blog among hundreds of thousands, it could have sat unnoticed by anyone else forever. As he said, it was hidden in plain sight.

When the page pulled up, it featured exactly one post, albeit a long one. I skimmed it quickly in its entirely and then went back and reread it again, more slowly. For security reasons, Bobby had used a lot of initials and abbreviations. To make it easier to understand, I copied the post and pasted it into a text file, and then I inserted my guesses as to what he meant by each abbreviation. Once I had done that, it was easier to read, and I studied the letter carefully.

Hey sis, glad you found me! If you’re here, you know I managed to use your suggestions to go under.

Here’s the deal: Dr. Updyke has been going outside the bounds ethically and legally with his work at the WIRE for a long time. I figured it out 10 yrs. ago, after Lydia had a miscarriage at 11 weeks. Being an employee at the WIRE, prenatal testing was free and easy, so before we tried again, I did basic workups on both of us. Not surprised to find that Lydia was a carrier for WKS, but shocked to learn that I WAS TOO! Couldn’t figure that one out, but now I have. Long story, bottom line, several generations in our family tree married into the Lancaster County Amish, and the bad gene got passed down. You might want to get checked too.

Anyway, I wanted to try again at having children, but what to do? Couldn’t take another miscarriage, much less stillborn from WKS. Talked to Dr. Updyke, who offered to use gene therapy on the next one. He said past experiments had failed, but that was because he could only treat after the child was born or in utero. He said if he could modify at the eight-cell level and inseminate artificially, we could have a child free from WKS.

At that point, after what he told me, I’d like to say that I blew the whistle, but I didn’t. Instead, I took advantage of his knowledge so that our next one could have a chance at a normal life. Don’t judge me too harshly—when you want kids as badly as we did, you’re willing to do a lot of things you wouldn’t think of otherwise. Here’s the part even I can’t justify: Lydia doesn’t know, never did. We tricked her. Going to explain it to her tonight, hope she’ll find some way to forgive me.

Anyway, Dr. Updyke was right, Isaac was born disorder free. He’s been healthy for 8 yrs. Was ready to repeat the procedure with the child Lydia carries now, but as it turned out, we didn’t need to.

But then a few months ago, Isaac’s health started failing. Did a swab while he was sleeping, and he tested negative for WKS.

So what is it? What’s wrong with him? I don’t know! Dr. Updyke says not to worry, but I can’t help it.

A few weeks ago, I thought if I could get a look at the experiments that had gone wrong in the past, that I could maybe talk to the families or at least read the case notes and figure out some way to help my son. Dr. Updyke wouldn’t let me access those files, though, so I broke into the archives and tried to take them anyway. Big mistake. Not only was I caught and suspended, but the only information I was able to get were dates of the procedures, not names.

Once I was on suspension, I spent a lot of time studying the problem, first trying to trace our roots so I could know where the WKS had come from, and then trying to study the variations and mutations of the disorder. Lots of work but turned up nothing. Finally, last week I called Doug. Met him for lunch, told him the whole truth, asked if he could use his security clearance to get the info for me on those other patients.

When I got home tonight there were two messages from Doug on the phone, both pretty urgent. He said he had gotten the info I wanted, plus some I didn’t expect. I don’t know what he meant by that. His message said to meet at the new Wynn Industries building, but when I got there, he was dead, and then somebody tried to do me in as well. Don’t know who, never saw a face, took off running.

That’s where I am now. Anna, you know I can’t go to the authorities on this. They’re not going to listen to an ex-con, especially one previously convicted of involuntary manslaughter! They’re not going to take my word against a world-renowned scientist or the owner of the company or whoever killed Doug and tried to kill me. Afraid I may even be framed for his death.

All I know is that by stirring the pot in an attempt to save my son, it looks like the secret of Dr. Updyke’s work is getting out—and things are dangerous. Right now, because Isaac is the only living proof of Dr. Updyke’s illegal gene therapy, I
have no choice but to take him and Lydia out of here and keep them safe until I can get real proof and make that whistle blow loud and clear.

If for some reason we don’t make it, you have to take it from here. Tell the authorities that we know there’s proof at Wynn headquarters because Doug found it and tried to bring it to me. He died for it, in fact. Tell them to exhume the bodies of the babies from the failed experiments, and all the proof they need will be there in their messed-up DNA.

Talk to Reed Thornton about it. This is what he does, hunts down the rule breakers like Dr. Updyke. Trust no one else but Reed!

Sorry to throw all this on you, Bobanna, but it’s life or death right now. Am using what you taught me to create a very confusing mess and buy time. When I get back to Dreiheit tonight, I’m going to take Lydia and Isaac and disappear.

Respond in kind, I’ll know where to look. Sorry for being so obscure, but I learned from the best. Be careful. Stay in touch you-know-how.

Bobby