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later in the day.
    Then, for an instant, she wondered why she’d want to leave a man who had done so much to help her.

EIGHT
    T he VHL Institute occupied a three-story stucco building at the western edge of the historic district. Initially, Sheila’s ex-husband had owned the building and leased the property to the Institute at a reduced cost.
    Four years later, the influential businessman and pillar of Savannah society had dropped dead of cardiac arrest.
    Under Sheila’s direction, the Institute had grown and flourished and had recently started funding research that held the promise of unlocking the secrets of VHL.
    Progress had been made in understanding the disease, but more work was still needed. All too often, medical advancement came in small increments, sometimes hard to measure. The compilation of data spread over a period of years from variousresearchers could be the catalyst for uncovering the missing piece that would eventually lead to a breakthrough.
    Pete had refused to accept Eve’s help in the form of grant money from the Institute, but he appreciated the excellent work they did and the breakthroughs that had been made.
    A middle-aged woman approached Pete as he stepped through the massive double doors. “Mr. Worth?”
    He nodded and extended his hand. “That’s right. Pete Worth.”
    â€œI’m Barbara McSwain. Sheila called and said to expect you. I’ll take you to the specimen collection room where you should be able to find everything you need.”
    Pete appreciated Sheila calling ahead. He followed Ms. McSwain down a long corridor lined with photos of major contributors to the Institute.
    Eve’s picture hung in a section reserved for Lifetime Benefactors. The photo had been taken a number of years before. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was warm. She seemed like the picture of health, exuding encouragement and hope.
    How different from two days ago when Pete had seen her at the lab.
    The collection room held three phlebotomystations and a stainless-steel cabinet containing the supplies Pete needed. He accepted the plastic biohazard bag Ms. McSwain provided and filled it with the appropriate specimen collection supplies as well as the paperwork for VHL testing.
    Task completed, he thanked Ms. McSwain and headed outside.
    Eve’s face continued to float through his thoughts. With Meredith agreeing to be tested, surely it was time to let Eve in on the good news.
    Pulling his BlackBerry from his pocket, Pete punched in her private number.
    Eve answered on the fourth ring.
    â€œI found your daughter,” he said in greeting.
    â€œPete?”
    â€œThe woman in the photo isn’t your child. Your real daughter’s name is Meredith Lassiter. Right now she’s with Sheila.”
    â€œYou’re in Savannah?”
    â€œThat’s right. You know Sheila, the queen of Southern hospitality.”
    â€œBut what about Dixie?”
    â€œIt’s a long story. Just don’t do anything until we get to Atlanta.”
    â€œYou’re bringing Meredith here?”
    Pete didn’t understand Eve’s hesitation. “You wanted to find your daughter.”
    â€œThat’s why I hired a private investigator. He assured me Dixie Collins is my daughter.”
    â€œWhat about DNA testing?”
    â€œShe’s traveling and can’t be reached. The P.I. said Dixie would provide a specimen as soon as she gets home.”
    Pete drew the BlackBerry closer to his ear. Eve was being duped by the woman, and the private investigator could be in on the scam as well.
    â€œThe P.I.’s lying. I saw Dixie Friday night. She and her boyfriend led me to Meredith. The P.I. must be involved with them. They’re trying to con you, Eve.”
    â€œThe private investigator was well recommended,” she insisted.
    â€œJust as Sam and Hazel Collins were?”
    He heard her quick intake of breath, then silence. Pete had hit a nerve, but Eve