I'll Be Seeing You by Mary Higgins Clark Page B

was transferred, the Andersons had two embryos, his identical twin and one other. The tube with his identical twin was specially labeled.”
    Tom got up from his desk and stretched. He’d taken off his coat, loosened his tie and opened his collar button. The effect was to soften his usual flinty exterior.
    He walked over to the window, stared down at the snarled traffic on West Fifty-sixth Street, then turned abruptly. “I liked what you did with the Manning reunionyesterday. We’ve gotten good response. Go ahead with it.”
    He was letting her do it! Meghan nodded, reminding herself that enthusiasm was out of order.
    Tom went back to his desk. “Meghan, take a look at this. It’s an artist’s sketch of the woman who was stabbed Thursday night.” He handed it to her.
    Even though she had seen the victim, Meghan’s mouth went dry when she looked at the sketch. She read the statistics, “Caucasian, dark brown hair, blue-green eyes, 5´6", slender build, 120 pounds, 24–28 years old.” Add an inch to the height and they’d describe her.
    â€œIf that ‘mistake’ fax was on the level and meant you were the intended victim, it’s pretty clear why this girl is dead,” Weicker commented. “She was right in this neighborhood, and the resemblance to you is uncanny.”
    â€œI simply don’t understand it. Nor do I understand how she got that slip of paper with my father’s writing.”
    â€œI spoke to Lt. Story again. We both agreed that until the killer is found it would be better to pull you off the news beat, just in case there is some kind of nut gunning for you.”
    â€œBut, Tom—” she protested. He cut her off.
    â€œMeghan, concentrate on that feature. It could make a darned good human interest story. If it works, we’ll do future segments on those kids. But as of now, you are off the news beat. Keep me posted,” he snapped as he sat down and pulled out a desk drawer, clearly dismissing her.
16
    B y Monday afternoon, the Manning Clinic had settled down from the excitement of the weekend reunion. All traces of the festive party were gone, and the reception area was restored to its usual quiet elegance.
    A couple in their late thirties was leafing through magazines as they waited for their first appointment. The receptionist, Marge Walters, looked at them sympathetically. She had had no problem having three children in the first three years of her marriage. Across the room an obviously nervous woman in her twenties was holding her husband’s hand. Marge knew the young woman had an appointment to have embryos implanted in her womb. Twelve of her eggs had become fertilized in the lab. Three would be implanted in the hope that one might result in a pregnancy. Sometimes more than one embryo developed, leading to a multiple birth.
    â€œThat would be a blessing, not a problem,” the young woman had assured Marge when she signed in. The other nine embryos would be cryopreserved. If a pregnancy did not result this time, the young woman would come back and be implanted with some of those embryos.
    Dr. Manning had called an unexpected lunchtime staff meeting. Unconsciously, Marge riffled her fingers through short blond hair. Dr. Manning had told them that PCD Channel 3 was going to do a television special on the clinic and tie it in with the impending birth of Jonathan Anderson’s identical twin. He asked that all cooperation be given to Meghan Collins, respecting of course the privacy of the clients. Only those clients who agreed in writing would be interviewed.
    Marge hoped that she’d get to appear in the special. Her boys would get such a kick out of it.
    To the right of her desk were the offices for senior staff. The door leading to those offices opened and one of the new secretaries came out, her step brisk. She paused at Marge’s desk long enough to whisper, “Something’s up. Dr. Petrovic