Page 117 of Destiny

Ruby nods. “I’ll stay here with Ava. You two be careful.”

“We will be.”

A little over forty-five minutes later, Ryan and I—in one of Ryan’s luxury cars—pull into the parking lot for Western Slope Family Planning. We take the papers that Ava and I copied, and we go inside.

“Good morning,” the receptionist says. “How can I help you today?”

“We represent the Fleming Corporation, and we’d like to have a look at these samples.” Ryan shoves the paper in front of the receptionist.

She glances at it, furrows her brow. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about here.”

An attractive woman walks by, smiling.

“Davey, do you have any idea what this is about?” the receptionist asks her.

Davey takes the paper from her, scans it, and furrows her brow as well. “I sure don’t. Is there something we can help you with, gentlemen?”

“We have reason to believe that sperm samples are being stored here,” Ryan says, “and we’d like to have a look.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any authority to let you look at anything,” Davey says, “but let me get our manager.”

“Thank you,” I say. “We’d appreciate that.”

“You gentlemen have a seat.” The receptionist nods to the waiting area.

“I think we’d prefer to stand if it’s all right with you.” Ryan raises his eyebrows.

I see what he’s doing. He’s a Steel, after all, and Steels aren’t used to being told what to do. The Steels always put forth a strong front, and staying on their feet displays that.

I’m going to stay standing with him because we need to figure this out.

A few moments later, an older gentleman appears. “Hello, I’m Dr. Sloan Franklin. Can I help you?”

“Are you the manager of this clinic?” Ryan asks.

“I am, and you are?”

“Ryan Steel.” He holds out his hand. “This is Brendan Murphy.”

I take the doctor’s hand as well.

Ryan hands Dr. Franklin one of the papers. “We have reason to believe that some old sperm samples are being stored here, some of which may belong to my father, Bradford Steel. We’d like to see them. Now.”

“We don’t store sperm samples here.”

“This is a family-planning clinic.”

“It is. But all our samples are stored at a cryotherapy lab.”

“Could you tell us where that is?”

Dr. Sloan frowns. “I don’t normally divulge that information.”

“You know what?” I say. “You’re lying.” I whisk past him down the hallway and start opening doors.

“Sir!” Davey runs after me. “There are patients in some of those rooms.”

“Fine. I will stop bothering your patients, and I will stop bothering you, when you tell me where your samples are stored.”

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