Saving Meghan(74)

Of course, Sabrina was referring to the airplane incident and to CNN, the first national news outlet to pick up Meghan’s story. Others soon would follow. Since the CNN story came out yesterday, producers from the Today show, 20/20, and Dateline all wanted exclusives, and all were willing to pay to get them. Veronica’s advice to Becky was to say no across the board.

“Think of the media like a man,” Veronica had said during their last FaceTime chat. “Play a bit hard to get, and they’ll keep the story alive, which is really what we want.”

So Becky had fielded dozens of calls and sent dozens more Veronica’s way. They cherry-picked the best outlets to keep intense local pressure on White Memorial, while at the same time did what they thought was most effective to help the story slowly spread westward.

“It’s not me, it’s the damn hospital,” Becky said to her sister. “If they’d just let Meghan go, we’d be done with this.”

But would you be done? Sabrina was probably asking herself.

Becky did not feel like getting into it with her sister. Certainly, she was not going to bring up the missing earring, or how she had willingly handed over her computer to the detectives without a warrant. She knew how Sabrina would see it. She had learned from Cora just as Becky had.

Meghan’s latest medical crisis at her birthday party was also a topic to avoid, knowing Sabrina would press her about the exam results. Becky was not surprised the doctors had been unable to pinpoint a physical cause for her daughter’s sudden distress. No real diagnosis, that sounds a lot like Cora, doesn’t it? Sabrina would say. You’ve taught her well. She’s learned from the best. Maybe it’s just in our damn DNA.

Becky switched topics and told her sister about the death of Dr. Levine.

“Mom would say he got what he deserved,” Sabrina replied coolly.

“Well, he was very young. It’s still tragic.”

“Tragedy follows us like a shadow, doesn’t it, Sis?”

“We’ve done all right,” Becky said. “Despite the circumstances.”

But they hadn’t done all that well, had they? Sabrina had never married. Never had children. Never dated, for all Becky knew. She lived a sheltered life, working as a CPA, counting other people’s money, lonely as Ebenezer Scrooge himself. Becky may have put physical distance between herself and Cora, but poor Sabrina had put in an equal number of emotional miles by distancing herself from everyone. The only obligation Sabrina felt was to the mother who knew nothing about mothering, who had left the two sisters to fend for themselves and deceive the social workers who circled the dilapidated trailer Cora still called home.

Becky did not know how long Sabrina would want to talk. Sometimes it was five minutes; other times it could stretch on for a good while, with lengthy periods of silence tucked in between painful reminiscences. But the doorbell rang, giving Becky good reason to put a quick end to the call.

Becky headed downstairs, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous home. It had been an extra lonely day for some reason, and not because Carl was off somewhere. These days, Becky did not even bother asking where he was going. They were an LLC, not a married couple. They were running a business, and the business was getting Meghan back. After that was done, well, maybe so were they. The marriage had nothing to give her. No support. No loving embrace. No tender kiss. Maybe that’s why Meghan’s absence felt so huge lately. Maybe that’s why Becky had spent a good hour under the covers of Meghan’s bed, inhaling her daughter’s fading scent, feeling the stiffness of the sheets that had not been slept on in ages.

Soon, she thought. When the biopsy is done, we’ll have all the proof we need, and then it will be over. Becky was confident they would have done the biopsy even if Meghan had not volunteered to undergo the procedure. White would not want an “oops” moment in denying a potentially life-saving treatment because they did not run a test that could help prove/disprove the condition. But there had been no urgency on the part of the hospital because the mito cocktail only inhibited disease progression slowly over time. Still, Becky wondered if she had pushed Meghan harder to have the test done sooner would that have helped avoid this entire ordeal altogether. Would that one test have been enough to reverse the charge of Munchausen syndrome by proxy? Maybe. Maybe not. But it certainly would not have hurt her cause.

Now, a treatment, as well as the clinical trial, was at risk, and the tragedy that had befallen Zach Fisher’s son was never far from Becky’s thoughts. At least Becky had Zach on her side, and she trusted him implicitly. She believed he’d find something, some root cause, but if not, she was prepared to keep looking. Because looking for the answer was her identity. More than Carl’s wife, or Sabrina’s sister, or even Meghan’s mother, Becky was the woman who hunted for a cure.

Opening the front door, Becky was once again surprised when Detectives Capshaw and Spence, dressed in near-matching blue blazers and red ties, greeted her on the front step. In his hand, Spence held an oversize clear plastic evidence bag with her computer inside.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Capshaw said. “But we thought we might catch you at home. We wanted to bring this back to you in person.”

Becky took the computer but did not invite the detectives inside. She caught a hard-edged stare from Spence, the thinner of the pair, that made her feel uneasy.

“Thank you,” Becky said. “I appreciate that.”