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“Yes, he did,” Freddie said with a laugh. “My heart goes out to him and the others struggling to have babies, only to be victimized by their doctor.”
“It’s awful. What’s next, boss man?”
“We need to talk to the lawyer who was representing Marcel on the lawsuit. Ed Leery.”
“Let’s do it.”
Leery’s officewas located two blocks from the Capitol in a red-brick townhouse.
Freddie rang the bell and then waited while Sam looked longingly at the neighborhood she’d called home all her life—until recently. They were three blocks from Ninth Street, the closest she’d been to their home in weeks. She’d need to go there before the trip to Bora Bora to get some of her summer clothes. That was something else to look forward to. It’d been only a couple of months since they moved across town, but it felt like forever since they’d lived on Ninth.
“Why don’t you call him?” Sam said.
Freddie found the number, made the call and put it on speaker.
“Ed Leery.”
“This is Detective Cruz with the Metro PD. I’m outside your office and would appreciate a few minutes of your time.”
“Um, sure. I’ll be right there.”
The man who came to the door was tall and lean, with tousled gray hair. He wore a dress shirt under a gray cashmere V-neck sweater. “Come in. Sorry about that. I keep meaning to get the doorbell fixed.” When he noticed Sam behind Freddie, he said, “Oh. It’s you. The first lady.”
“Lieutenant Holland,” she said, showing him her badge as Freddie did the same.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, his gaze set on Sam in a stare that made her uncomfortable.
Why did people have to fucking stare at her?
“We understand you were representing Marcel Blanchet in the lawsuit filed by four former patients,” Freddie said.
“I was,” he said, sighing as he thankfully turned his attention toward Freddie. “Come on back.”
He led them to an office in which loaded bookcases occupied all the available wall space. A laptop was nearly buried under a mountain of files and papers on his desk. He cleared files from a small sofa. “Have a seat. I wondered if you would contact me. Didn’t expect to get the first lady herself,” he added with a small grin that Sam wished she could smack off his face.
“What can you tell us about Dr. Blanchet’s state of mind in recent weeks?” Freddie asked.
Sam appreciated that he pressed on, ignoring the first-lady comment.
“He was very upset about the lawsuit, as you can imagine. He’d spent his life building an impeccable reputation that was going to be torn apart in a matter of days. I was concerned about him and said as much to him the last time I saw him.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was coping as best he could and that he would vigorously defend himself against the specious allegations.”
“Did you believe him when he said he was innocent?”
“I did.”
“How do you explain four different women coming forward with the same story about what he did to them?”
“How to say this delicately…”
Again, he glanced at Sam with that same small smile that put her on edge.
“Women experiencing infertility are often overwrought—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Sam had reached her limit with this guy. “They are not overwrought because of the many disappointments that can be associated with infertility. In this case, the four women are infuriated because their doctor took advantage of them when they were at their most vulnerable.”
