But then she paused and shifted to Ethan to make sure that interview was okay with him. After all, New Hope might trigger some bad memories of Isabel since she’d visited there.
He studied her much as Grace had done, his gaze sliding over her face. No heat this time around. None of that unwanted attraction. Just a cop’s assessment to make sure she was up to this.
Ethan finally nodded. “Yes, Livvy and I can go to New Hope.”
Grace took a moment, then another, before she spoke. “All right, go, but if at any point you sense you’re in danger, get the hell out of there.”
Livvy had already considered the possibility of danger, but it was a jolt to hear it spelled aloud. It was indeed possible that someone wanted to hurt her or worse. That could be what these taunting notes were about. Still, if the person wanted her dead, then all he or she had needed to do was hang around that abandoned house and shoot her when she stepped from the cruiser.
Definitely not a comforting thought, but it was the truth. She would have had no idea that something like that was coming.
“Go,” Grace finally said, “and on the drive over, run a background on New Hope. Let me know if any red flags pop.”
“Will do,” Ethan assured her.
They didn’t waste any time heading out to the cruiser. As usual, she drove, and with Ethan at shotgun, he immediately took out his phone, no doubt to start that search on New Hope.
“I’m taking you at your word,” he said, “that you’re okay with doing this.”
“I am. I’m taking you at your word, too.”
“Good. Because we have a killer to catch,” Ethan was quick to say. “New Hope,” he went on a moment later, reading from his phone. “Established nearly forty years ago.”
She hadn’t known it’d been around that long, and since it wasn’t exactly on the beaten path, Livvy hadn’t even seen the place.
“Here’s their mission statement,” he continued a moment later. “‘At New Hope, we are committed to empowering women on their journey to parenthood. Through compassionate care and personalized treatment plans here at our residential facility, we strive to provide hope and support to every individual or family facing fertility challenges.’”
“‘Personalized treatment plans,’” she repeated. “Impressive sounding while also being vague. Does it say specifically what they offer?”
He scrolled through the screen and shook his head. Ethan also gathered his breath. “But I remember Isabel saying it wasn’t actually fertility treatments. More like nutrition and exercise plans. The residential facility part was emphasized though. They want couples to actually live there while trying to conceive.”
“Not very convenient,” she muttered. “And it sounds expensive.”
“It is,” he assured her. “Not just for the stay and treatment but also for a surrogacy option.”
“Surrogacy?” she questioned.
“Gestational surrogacy,” Ethan provided. “The embryo of the couple implanted into a surrogate. That option requires at least one member of the couple and the surrogate to live at New Hope until the birth of the baby.”
“Good grief,” Livvy muttered. “That seems strict.”
He made a sound of agreement. “And from what I gathered from Isabel, most clients ended up going the surrogacy route.”
So, the place was making a fortune. Maybe. It was also possible they didn’t get many clients.
“The director of New Hope is Chloe Voss,” Ethan continued, reading from his phone. “Age fifty-eight. A nurse practitioner and nutritionist. No criminal record. Divorced.” He paused. “No kids, which could mean…nothing, I suppose.”
True. It was possibly Chloe simply hadn’t wanted children, but then it seemed somewhat of an unusual career choice to run a facility dedicated to conception and childbirth. Still, helping others conceive a child didn’t necessarily mean that you wanted them yourself.
“Her parents started New Hope,” Ethan added a moment later, “and Chloe took over as director when her parents diedabout a decade ago. Her brother, Franklin, is a doctor at New Hope.”
Livvy was processing all that info when her phone rang, and since it was already linked with Bluetooth, she saw the name on the dash screen.
And she groaned.
Because it was Dr. Millie Burnette. Her obstetrician. Definitely not a conversation she wanted to have with Ethan around, since he’d just been talking about Isabel. Still, this could be important, so she used hands-free and took the call.
“Livvy,” the woman immediately greeted. Not the doctor but rather her nurse. “This is Delia at Dr. Burnette’s office. We need to reschedule your ultrasound appointment and wondered if you could come in tomorrow at one?”
