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"Right. And that's all they're getting word of. You, your relationship to Carson—that information was given only to the police and Carson's surgeon. So you can cross slander off your list, too. Although, to be frank, having Carson Brooks for a father is something to be proud of, not to renounce. Still, your relationship won't be made public. We'll try to keep it quiet as long as we can."
"Thank you—I think." Sabrina's head was swimming. "I'm not sure what to say." A guarded look. "Will he be all right?"
"He's in pretty bad shape."
"I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm also confused. Where do I fit into all this? You worked round-the-clock to find me, not to mention going out on a limb that could have cost you your law license. Why? I doubt it was to prepare me for an eventual news leak. So what is it you want?"
From the expression on Dylan Newport's face, Sabrina knew they'd reached the moment of truth.
"Besides his internal injuries, Carson's kidneys have shut down," he informed her. "He's on dialysis. A transplant is a real possibility. It's crucial that we find a donor match. The odds of that happening are best when the donor and the recipient are blood relations. Which you two are. In fact, you're Carson's only blood relative. So you see, Sabrina, I'm here for more than your sympathy. I'm here for your cooperation. You have to be tissue-typed. My records show that you and Carson have the same O-positive blood, but you'll need to take a confirming blood test. The next step would be—"
"Stop." Sabrina was on her feet, reality punching her in the gut. "You came up here to get me to volunteer one of my organs to... to..."
"To your biological father, yes." Dylan rose, too. He looked concerned, but not contrite. "I realize this is a lot to absorb, not to mention being a huge sacrifice."
"A sacrifice?" Sabrina repeated. "I don't know this man. I never met him. He was faceless, nameless..." She broke off, reason telling her she had to be sure. "You obviously brought proof that he's my father. Show it to me."
Dylan held up the file, then placed it carefully on the glass table behind him. "Everything is in here. Read it. I'll go grab some dinner and give you a few hours alone. We'll talk later—say, eleven o'clock?"
Sabrina's head was spinning. "You're staying in the area?"
"Until tomorrow. Then I'm flying back. I'm hoping you'll decide to come, too—not only to get tissue-typed, but to meet your father. Think about it, Sabrina. I know this is a shock. But you'll get past it. Carson Brooks is a brilliant, vital man. You could save him from a life that, to him, would be no life at all."
With a final penetrating stare, Dylan headed toward the door.
"Wait." Sabrina stopped him in his tracks. "Eleven is too soon. I need more time."
He turned back. "You want to speak with your mother." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes. And not on the phone. In person."
"In person?" He frowned, giving her another of those hard, assessing looks. "You're driving to Rockport?"
"That's where she lives," Sabrina returned tersely. She didn't bother questioning how he knew where her mother's home was. His background check had been thorough. He'd known her mother was from Beacon Hill and what she did professionally. Why wouldn't he know the rest? "I've got to see her right away. The reasons should be obvious."
"They are. But Rockport's an hour and a half away. Are you sure you're up to driving? It's late. And you're upset."
"I'm fine."
He didn't press the point. "You'll spend the night there."
"Probably. Maybe. I'm not sure." Sabrina wished he'd go away and let her think. "My mother's been in Manhattan on business all week. Her plane landed at Logan around seven. I doubt she got home before eight, and that's if the plane landed on time. She's bound to be exhausted. And this news..." Sabrina drew a shaky breath. "It's bound to throw her. So I can't give you an exact time as to when I'll be back. You'll just have to be patient."
"Fair enough. I'll get a hotel room. I'll call your assistant with the telephone number when I have it."
"You can stay here at the Center," Sabrina offered tonelessly. "We have more than enough room." She walked over to the glass table, tore off a Post-it, and scribbled something down. "Give this to the receptionist. She'll take care of the arrangements." She handed him the Post-it. "Whatever my decision, I'll get it to you tomorrow."
"Fine." He cleared his throat. "If it makes any difference, for weeks now Carson's been wrestling with the idea of conducting an investigation to learn whether or not he has a child. He didn't intend to intrude on your life. He just wanted to know. It was on his mind the night he was shot. I rode with him in the ambulance. He was fully aware he might not make it. He asked one thing of me: to find you—if you existed. I planned on doing that, even if this kidney crisis hadn't come up. The difference is, you would never have had to know about it. I'm truly sorry for dumping all this on you. But I'm sorrier for Carson." He pulled open the door. "I'll be waiting for your call."
Sabrina sat alone in the office for a long time, reading through the file and thinking.
Then, she reached for the phone.
CHAPTER 5
8:25 P.M.
Rockport, Massachusetts
