Saving Meghan(98)

“What’s wrong with her?” Becky had asked him on their brief phone call.

“I won’t tell you,” Zach said. “I can’t tell you. Not until we have her back. That’s the agreement I made with the police.”

“Just tell me if it’s a rare kind of cancer. Tell me you can save her.”

“When we meet,” he had said.

Damn you, Zach Fisher, he had thought, then and now.

Becky had called the office while Zach was reviewing medical charts for Baby Sperling. The child was doing remarkably well despite his breathing abnormality, but only because he was being cared for properly. Meghan deserved the same, he told himself.

Five minutes had passed since Zach last checked the time. He was starting to think Becky might be a no-show. Maybe she’d rethought her plan. Per her instructions, Becky was going to hand Meghan over to him, then go back into hiding. Zach was to send her updates on Meghan’s treatment and prognosis. That was all Becky wanted, that and a promise Meghan would not be locked up again. Once she knew her daughter’s medical regimen would continue, she’d willingly turn herself in to the police.

Yes, he respected her immeasurably.

At twenty past the hour, Zach was sure the rendezvous was off. Becky had had a change of heart. Just then, bright lights flashed in his rearview mirror. He heard a car door open and shut. A moment later, the rear door to Zach’s Camry flew open. Becky and Meghan slipped inside.

“Drive,” Becky said.

Zach had kept the car running while he waited, per Becky’s earlier instructions to him. He pulled the car into traffic, following signs for Storrow Drive—another of her demands. At this hour, the traffic moved briskly.

Glancing in the rearview, Zach assessed Meghan’s health as best he could. She looked pretty much as she had when she’d first come to his office—maybe a bit frailer, a bit thinner, but in general good health, at least on the outside. She did not look malnourished. No visible signs of trauma. Becky seemed healthy as well, but was visibly strained. And the worst was yet to come. Once this was over, Zach knew Becky Gerard would never speak to him again.

“How are you, Meghan?” Zach said. “It’s good to see you, even under these crazy circumstances.”

Meghan laughed sweetly. “Hi, Dr. Fisher,” she said. “I’m fine. And yeah, it’s been a bit crazy.”

“You two pulled off quite the disappearing act. Everyone is looking for you.”

“Mom’s pretty smart,” Meghan said proudly. “She thought of everything.”

As if on cue, Becky produced something from her purse. For a second, Zach worried it might be a gun. But it was something else, an object he did not recognize.

“Plug this into your cigarette lighter,” Becky said, handing Zach the device.

“What is it?” Zach asked, glancing at the road as well as the rearview.

“My friend at an electronics store sold it to me,” Becky said. “It jams GPS trackers.”

“You think I have a tracker on the car?”

“Please, Zach. Plug it in.”

“Very well,” Zach said, pushing the device into the car’s electric lighter port. It was an adapter with a small antenna attached.

Becky peered out the window. “Where are the police?” she asked.

“No police. That was our deal.”

Becky leaned over the backseat, placing her hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Please don’t double-cross us, Zach,” she said, whispering in his ear, her voice soft and pleading. Becky’s hand brushed up against the nape of his neck, raising bumps on his skin. “Just tell me if it’s cancer.” Her hand caressed him, touching him in a way he had not been touched in years.

Zach told himself: She’s playing you, she’s been playing you, and his guilt lessened, but only somewhat.

“Tell, me, Zach. I need to know. Is it cancer?”

“It’s not cancer,” he said.

“But it’s something,” Becky said.

“It’s something,” was all Zach could say.

Becky leaned over and kissed Zach gently on his cheek. The spot her lips touched felt on fire. “Thank you, Zach. Thank you for not lying to me. You’re the only one I trust. The only one I’ve ever trusted.”

Zach did not know what to say.

“Get off here,” Becky told him.

Zach exited at Storrow Drive and headed for Beacon Street in Downtown Boston.

“I’ll call you later tonight,” Becky said. “I need to know when Meghan gets settled. I have a bunch of phones, so you won’t recognize the number.”

“Okay,” Zach said.

Becky kept her hand on Zach’s neck. Her touch burned him with shame. “Pull over here,” Becky said, pointing to an empty parking space in front of a fire hydrant.

Zach did as he was told.

“Meghan, give a look,” Becky said. “Do you see anything? Any police?”

“No, all clear here,” Meghan said, peering out her window.

Becky did the same, then turned to Meghan. “You’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she said, hugging her daughter tight. “Zach will take care of you. Don’t worry about me. It’ll all be fine.”

Meghan sniffled but stayed composed. “Please stay safe, Mom.”