Not well, Carpenter said. Her tone indicated that she realized that she may have just opened up something of a Pandoras Box. Without asking to explain, she did so willingly. A woman approached the front desk and didnt even ask for a specific doctor. From what Im told, she was very polite when she asked the receptionist how she could go about getting her eggs back or having them destroyed. When the receptionist told her thats not exactly how it worked, the polite mask went away quickly. Of course, the receptionist should have never commented on it and had the woman speak with a doctor, but that is neither here nor there. The woman sort of snapped. I only caught the end of it, but you can see it on one of our security feeds. I would not be exaggerating to say that this woman threw a tantrum. She was banging on the protective glass between the desk and the receptionist. One of our ladies up front had picked up the phone to call the police but by then, the woman seemed to come to her senses.

Rachel wondered if the woman had displayed the same sort of anger that would drive someone to repeatedly stab three women in the stomach.

Whats the womans name? Rachel asked.

Claire Allen. And I think I should probably add that one of the many things she yelled while she was here was that we were just as clueless and as mean as the other clinic.

The other clinic? You mean Greenfield?

Yes. I had someone here call to warn them about her but they said shed already been there. She wasnt quite as confrontational to them, but yes…she had also visited Greenfield to have them destroy her donated eggs as well.

Rachel could feel the case sliding together in her head, all the puzzle pieced interlocking. This was not a traumatized doctor being questioned in a hospital hallway, snapping after years of pain. This was something different. There was a slight edge of madness to this, a woman raising hell because a clinic would not give her back her eggs.

I need her phone number and address, Rachel said.

It was clear that Carpenter was uneasy with it, but she typed something into her laptop without much hesitation. After a few clicks and a couple taps of her keyboard, she grabbed a Post It and a pen from beside the laptop.

Here you go, she said, tearing the information off of the stack and handing it to Rachel. I do hope you can wrap this…not just to catch the killer, but to finally stop going after women like Pauline Vick.