Joanna stared ahead with unseeing eyes while her brain conjured up images of Venice. She'd visited the magical city once, but only for a few days, and that had been with her parents and siblings when she'd been in high school. She could picture the sparkle of the water of the Grand Canal as it reflected off the gothic facades. With equally startling clarity she could remember the bustle of St. Mark's Square with the competing quartets from the two famous opposing coffeehouses. She'd told herself back then that she would return someday to that most romantic city. Of course that fantasy had included Carlton, who was not along at the time, but whom she was already seeing.

"And there's something else," Deborah said, interrupting Joanna's brief reverie. "Giving a few eggs, which by the way we have several hundred thousand of so they won't be missed, will provide a tiny bit of satisfaction to our procreative urges."

"Now I know you are teasing me," Joanna said.

"I'm not!" Deborah insisted. "Donating some eggs will mean that a few couples who couldn't have children will have them, and these kids will have half our genes. There'll be a few 'half Joannas' and 'half Deborahs' wandering around."

"I guess that's true," Joanna said. In her mind's eye she saw a little girl who looked something like herself. It was a pleasant image until she saw the little girl was with two total strangers.

"Of course it's true," Deborah said. "And the good part is that we don't have to change any diapers or lose any sleep. What do you say we give it a whirl?"

"Wait a minute!" Joanna said. She raised her hands as if to protect herself. "Slow down! Assuming we got accepted, which is hardly a sure thing given all the stipulations in the ad, I've got a few major questions."

"Like what?"

"Like how do we actually give the eggs? I mean, what's the procedure? You know that I'm not fond of doctors and hospitals."

"That's a fine thing for someone to say who's been dating a doctor-in-training for the last half century."

"It's when I'm a patient that the trouble starts," Joanna said.

"The ad says there'd be minimal stimulation,' Deborah said.

"Is that good?"

"Absolutely," Deborah said. "Usually they have to hyperstimulate the ovaries to get them to release a number of eggs, and the hyperstimulation can cause problems in some people like PMS from hell. The hyperstimulation is done with strong hormones. Believe it or not, some of the hormones come from menopausal Italian nuns."

"Oh, come on!" Joanna complained. "I'm not that gullible."

"I swear to God," Deborah said. "These menopausal nuns' pituitaries are cranking out gonadal stimulating hormones to beat the band. It's extracted from their urine. Trust me!"

"I'll take your word for it," Joanna said, making an expression of disgust. "But getting back to the issue at hand: Why do you think the Wingate people are not hyperstimulating?"

"I suppose they're aiming for quality, not quantity," Deborah said. "But I'm only guessing. It's a reasonable question to ask them."

"How do they actually get the eggs?"

"I'm only guessing again, but I believe it would be by needle aspiration. I imagine they'd use ultrasound for a guide."

"Ugh!" Joanna voiced with a shudder. "I definitely don't like needles, and we'd have to be talking about a mighty long needle. Where would they stick it?"

"I imagine vaginally," Deborah said.

Joanna visibly shuddered again.

"Oh, come on!" Deborah said. "I suppose it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but it can't be all that bad. Lots of women do it as part of in vitro fertilization, and remember we're talking about forty-five thousand dollars. That's worth a bit of discomfort."

"Would we be put to sleep?"

"I have no idea," Deborah said. "That's another question we could ask."

"I can't believe you're serious about this."

"But it's a win-win situation. We'd get some serious money and a few couples would get children. It's like we'd be paid to be altruistic."

"I wish we could talk to somebody who's gone through it," Joanna said.

"Hey, we might be able to do that," Deborah said. "The egg donation issue came up in a biology 101 lab group discussion I was an instructor for last semester. It was back when the Wingate Clinic had their first ad in the Crimson. One of the freshmen said she'd been interviewed, accepted, and was going to do it."

"What was her name?"

"I can't remember, but I know how to find it. She and her roommate were in the same lab section, and both were terrific students. It would be in my grade book for the course. Let me get it."

While Deborah disappeared into her bedroom, Joanna tried to digest what had transpired in her life in the previous thirty minutes. She felt shell-shocked and a bit giddy. Events seemed to be transpiring at warp speed.

"Voila!" Deborah called out from the bedroom. A second later, she appeared at the door with a soft-cover grade book open in her hand and made a beeline for the desk. "Where's the campus phone directory?"

"Second drawer on the right," Joanna said. "What's the name?"

"Kristin Overmeyer," Deborah said. "And her roommate was Jessica Detrick. They were lab partners, and I gave them the highest grades in the class." She got the phone book out and flipped to the appropriate page. "That's weird! She's not in here. How can that be?"

"Maybe she dropped out of school," Joanna suggested.

"I can't imagine," Deborah said. "Like I said, she was a dynamite student."

"Maybe the egg-donation ordeal was too much."

"You're joking."

"Of course I'm joking," Joanna said. "But it is curious."

"Now I have to get to the bottom of this or you'll use it as an excuse," Deborah said. She rapidly flipped through the phone book, found a number and dialed.

"Who are you calling?"

"Jessica Detrick," Deborah said. "Maybe she can tell us how to get in touch with Kristin, provided the former roommate's in her room studying on a Friday night."

Joanna listened after Deborah gave her the thumbs-up sign indicating that Jessica had answered. Joanna's interest peaked when Deborah's expression clouded over, and she started saying things like: "Oh, that's terrible," and "I'm sorry to hear that," and "What a tragedy1."

After concluding a rather long conversation, Deborah replaced the receiver slowly, then turned to look at Joanna. Deep in thought, she absently chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Well?" Joanna demanded. "Aren't you going to clue me in? What's the tragedy?"

"Kristin Overmeyer disappeared," Deborah said. "She and another freshman by the name of Rebecca Corey were last seen by a Wingate Clinic employee picking up an apparent hitchhiker just after leaving the clinic."

"I heard about two students disappearing last spring," Joanna said. "I never knew the names."

"What in God's name made them pick up a hitchhiker?"

"Maybe they knew him?"

"It's possible," Deborah said. Now it was her turn to shudder. "Stories like that give me the creeps."

"The women were never found? What about their bodies?"

"Just the car, which belonged to Rebecca Corey. It was found at a truck stop along the New Jersey turnpike. The women were never seen again. Nor any of their possessions like purses or clothing."

"Did Kristin donate eggs?"

"A half dozen, which her family sued to get possession of, but which the clinic turned over voluntarily. Apparently the family wanted to have some say in who got them. Such a sad story!"

"So much for having someone to ask about the donation procedure," Joanna said.

"We could always call the clinic and ask for the name of a previous donor," Deborah said.

"If we call the clinic we could ask our questions to them directly," Joanna said. "If that goes well, then maybe we could ask for a referral."