I say nothing, but I am incredibly angry and incredibly sad that one of my most trusted midwives has stooped to such a dangerous and unethical level. And I’m thinking, Why? Why do this, Tracy Anne? Okay, I’m sad, but I’m also shocked. No one is better at her job than Tracy Anne. And if you’re thinking that in her I saw the younger me, well, you’re absolutely correct.

It’s also pretty clear that Troy knows everything about this. He keeps talking, and I keep being amazed. Now Troy tells us that Tracy Anne was paid a thousand dollars per delivery. They were all “at home” deliveries, although the home might’ve been a filthy basement room where dealers were cooking crack, or an outdoor alley in a Bronx housing project.

“The thing is, Tracy Anne said these Russian people said they were selling the babies to give to rich people. At least that’s what they told Tracy Anne. And of course she believed them. Why not? It made her feel better.”

“Yep. She wanted to believe them,” says Bobby. And I think he’s right about that.

I jump in. “Where is Tracy Anne now?”

“That’s just it,” says Bobby. “She disappeared two days ago. We’re looking for her.”

I look at Troy. “You don’t know where she is, Troy?”

“No. I don’t,” he says.

“Are you sure?” I ask. Big mistake.

Troy goes from being nervous and contrite to being angry and belligerent. “No, damn it! I absolutely do not know where that girl is hiding out. She’s scared. She’s in trouble with the police, with the hospital, with the Russian crazy people. So of course she’s gone and made herself disappear. She could be dead for all I know.”

Bobby says, “This girl is deep in the shitter.”

Troy starts talking again. “Look here, Lucy. I broke a confidence by coming in here. I know that. But I had to…”

Blumenthal finally says something, and it’s not sympathetic to the situation. “Yeah, you broke a confidence about somebody who broke the law. They don’t give out medals for that.”

I look at Troy and speak. I’m taking a safety risk with my question. “You’re positive that you don’t know where Tracy Anne is?”

This time Troy answers calmly. “Positive as a man can be. But please don’t ask me again. My heart hurts every time you ask that question.”

My mind is rushing with other questions, not just for Troy but for everybody in the room:

What took Troy so long to tell anyone about this?

Is Tracy Anne telling the truth? And where the hell is she?

How can the NYPD get Orlov to talk?

Where’s Nina?

And there’s one other question. It’s small and dumb, but I just can’t shake this one out of my head: