Lisa was crying openly now. “I don’t want to do this. Can’t they just give me a C-section? Cut me open and take it?”
“They won’t do that unless there’s a problem. It’s best if this all happens naturally. If you have surgery, recuperation will be a lot longer.”
“I’m scared,” Lisa whispered, her voice trembling.
Putting her arm around the teenager, Carrie drew her close. “I know you are. I’m here with you, and so is Brian.”
At the emergency room, Nancy Allen was standing with the wheelchair, waiting. Nancy was a tall woman with short brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes. She had more motherly instincts than anyone Carrie knew. If her romance with Everett worked out, maybe she’d finally have the baby she’d always wanted.
As soon as Carrie and Lisa and Brian were within earshot, she explained, “I’m escorting you up to OB. How are you doing, Lisa?”
The teenager just crumpled into the wheelchair.
Nancy patted her shoulder. “Hold on, honey. Pretty soon this will be all over.”
As she started wheeling Lisa inside, she looked at Carrie and Brian. “How are you two holding up?”
Brian curved his arm around Carrie’s waist as they walked. “We had a scare yesterday. Lisa had false labor pains. But I think this is the real thing. I feel like a soon-to-be father.”
“And I can’t wait to hold this child in my arms,” Carrie added.
The trip upstairs was uneventful. When the nurse in OB came to take charge of Lisa, the teenager looked up at Carrie with beseeching eyes. “Come with me.”
The middle-aged nurse smiled encouragingly. “She can get you registered while we prepare you. They’ll have to get ready, too.”
“Ready?” Lisa looked worried.
“Gowns and hats.”
As the nurse wheeled Lisa away, Carrie felt so many emotions that she wasn’t sure what to do with them. Lisa had become like a little sister to her.
“She’s so scared,” Carrie whispered to Brian.
He gave her a squeeze. “Let’s get her registered. Then we can help her through this.”
Nancy gave Carrie a quick hug. “I’ll check on all of you when I get a break.”
The labor went longer than any of them expected, and when Nancy peeked into the birthing room at 7:00 a.m., Carrie knew they all looked exhausted. The doctor was with them now, assuring them Lisa was fully dilated, and soon her baby would be born.
Nancy said, “I’ll hang out in the lounge for a little while.” She gave Lisa a smile. “You can do this.”
The doctor agreed. “Yes, you can. The baby’s crowning. Come on, Lisa. I need some really big pushes.”
With her hand on Lisa’s shoulder, Carrie murmured, “Think about your mom and dad watching over you and giving you all the energy you need.”
As another contraction became a wrenching pain inside of her, Lisa moaned.
“Remember how the nurses told you to breathe,” Brian reminded her. “Come on. One, two, three, push. One, two, three, push.” When he took Lisa’s hand in his, Carrie could see he cared about the teenager as much as she did.
Lisa’s hair was damp and matted against her head, and her face was ruddy with exertion. Now she pushed with all her might, all her heart, all her determination to get this baby born.
“That’s it, Lisa. He’s coming. Come on now. One more. Let’s get the shoulders out,” Dr. Grieb ordered.
With another stupendous burst of energy, Lisa pushed and grunted, and then gave out a loud moan.
“Here he is!”
At the doctor’s words two nurses were suddenly at her side, and Carrie wondered if something was wrong.
But then she heard a lusty cry, and the doctor was cutting the cord and placing the baby in Lisa’s arms.
Brian held Carrie tight, and he murmured close to her ear, “There’s our son.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as he kissed her gently. Then they both looked down at the newborn baby, at his brown hair and smooth pink skin.
Lisa was trying to catch her breath, but she looked at her child and ran her thumb down his cheek.
For a moment, Carrie panicked. What if Lisa didn’t want to give up the baby now? Then, suddenly, an overwhelming calm overtook her. She and Brian would take them both in. They’d deal with the rest after that.
“Have you thought of a name?” Carrie asked.
Lisa turned to her. “Don’t you want to name him? He’s beautiful. But I can’t be the mother he needs, and you can. He’s yours, Carrie.”
Leaning down to Lisa, Carrie kissed her forehead. “Thank you. But if you want to name him, that’s only fitting.”
As Lisa blinked rapidly, tears came to her eyes, and she focused on Brian. “Do you feel the same way?”
“I do. You gave birth to him. You should have the honor.”
“All right. I did think about it. I’d like to name him Timothy Jacob—after my dad.”
“Timothy Jacob,” Brian repeated, as if he were considering the most important matter in the world. “I like it. And I’m sure your father would like it.”
The nurse came to take the baby then. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and let you get some rest.” Looking from Carrie to Lisa, she explained, “Usually, when a mom gives up a baby for adoption, she doesn’t feed him. Is that the case here?”
Again Lisa said to Carrie, “He’s yours now.”
“I’d love to feed him.”
“All right. I’ll get his schedule from the doctor and give it to you. It might mean some inconvenient running back and forth, but we can always feed him if you can’t get here.”
“I’ll be here.”
“So will I,” Brian added in a certain voice.
Carrie was filled with so much love for her husband and their newborn son, she felt as if she’d burst.
Carrie and Brian stayed with Lisa at the hospital until almost noon. Before Carrie left, she went to the nursery to feed her baby. Brian was with her, and as she sat in the rocking chair holding Timothy in her arms, she saw the most tender, amazing expression on Brian’s face. He looked as if he’d just been handed the best Christmas gift he’d ever received, and Carrie’s throat tightened.
After a nurse showed Carrie an appropriate way to burp the baby, she did that, and then she handed Timothy to her husband. “Do you want to feed him?”
She’d never seen Brian look uncertain, but he did now. “Are you sure that’s all right?”
“You’re the dad,” she replied with a smile, and his answering grin told her again that he was happier at this moment than he’d ever been. Brian finally had the family he’d always wanted, and she’d never do anything to endanger that.
When Charlie Prescott slipped into the supply closet on the OB/GYN floor after visiting hours that evening, nobody noticed him. As a former janitor at Portland General, he knew every nook and cranny of the place. As a janitor, he’d been faceless. Nobody paid attention to janitors.
On the other hand, Baker was recognizable. And the more Baker had talked, the more Charlie had realized the man could panic or turn tail and run. In this instance he would be a liability. Charlie didn’t like liabilities, or taking unnecessary chances. He’d thought about hiring somebody else to steal the Sanders baby. But then he’d have another loose end that had to be tied up. If he did it himself, he could be sure it was done right. He didn’t have a couple waiting right now, but he would shortly.
Soon he could take a plane to Brazil and live the good life for the rest of his days—thanks to all the babies he “delivered” to childless couples. He laughed to himself. Charlie “the Stork” Prescott would be retired.
Changing into scrubs, Charlie thought about yesterday when he’d been in here getting the new security code with his telephoto lens. They changed the numbers in the nursery code once a week and thought they had ironclad security. But he was smarter than the suits who ran this place.
Once he was dressed in scrubs, including a hat, he applied make
up that gave him an olive complexion and took tortoiseshell glasses from his pants pocket. Stowing the mirror, makeup and street clothes under a towel on the top shelf of a supply cart, he slipped on latex gloves, draped a sheet over the cart, then made sure the basket on the second shelf was ready for a newborn.
Keycard in hand that he’d pilfered from one of the nurses’ lockers, he opened the closet door and pushed the cart around the corner, away from the nursery to a service elevator. There he let it sit. Making sure the elevator door would open as soon as he pressed the button, he took out his cell phone, dialed the hospital’s number and asked for the nurses’ desk on OB/GYN. When the head nurse answered, he asked for Patty Kirkpatrick. She was the redhead overseeing the babies now.
Moments later, the page came over the loudspeaker system. Patty left the nursery and headed for the desk around the corner.
Charlie made his move.
It was so easy, he almost laughed. After he used the keycard, he punched in the code. Once inside the nursery he easily found the Sanders baby. Picking him up, he wrapped him in another blanket and slipped outside. Within minutes, the baby was inside the basket on the supply cart, and Charlie was in the elevator headed for the basement.
On the ground level, he gathered his clothes, wiped any prints from the supply cart and put the infant in a sling carrier close to his chest, leaving the basket on the cart. Hurrying down a dimly lit corridor, he used the keycard again and punched in another code to let himself outside. Most offices were empty and visitors had left the hospital. The darkness shrouded him as he stayed away from the lighted paths and almost jogged to his car, parked in an annex parking lot. Rain began to fall.
Minutes later, he’d stowed the baby into the infant car seat, climbed in, started the ignition and driven away from Portland General.
He’d had no doubt he’d get away with this. His mission to discredit Children’s Connection was almost complete.
Getting rich was definitely the best revenge.
When Carrie and Brian returned to Portland General around 9:00 p.m., Carrie felt as if they’d landed straight in the midst of a movie set. There were squad cars with flashing lights everywhere.
Brian drove into the parking garage and found more officers, two with dogs.
“Do you think there was a bomb threat?” Carrie asked.
“We’ll soon find out.”
As soon as they exited the car, an officer was there. “What’s your business in the hospital?” he asked.
“Our baby’s in the nursery.”
The officer was silent a moment. Then he asked, “Can I see some ID?”
Carrie felt a knot begin to form in her stomach. She and Brian both showed the policeman their driver’s license.
After a thorough search of their faces and their pictures, the cop handed them back. “What are you doing here this late? Visiting hours were over at eight.”
Brian put his arm around Carrie, and she was suddenly glad for the additional warmth. He explained, “We’re adopting a baby. An infant. He was born today and he’s in the nursery. We came to feed him.”
A different look came over the policeman’s face. He was young, maybe in his midtwenties, and he had black hair, trimmed short, close to his head. His posture became even stiffer. “Is the woman who gave birth to the baby here?”
“Yes,” Carrie said quickly, “but we know it’s too late to visit her. We just want to hold our son—”
“What’s her name?” the officer cut in.
As Brian drew Carrie even closer, she went cold all over. “Her name’s Lisa Sanders,” Brian answered.
The officer’s expression, which before had looked authoritative, now became grim. “I’m going to escort you inside. Detective Levine will want to talk to you.”
“Why?” Carrie wanted to know right here and right now what was going on, and why they needed to talk to a police detective.
“Just follow me inside. Detective Levine will explain everything.”
Carrie and Brian didn’t speak as they hurried across the catwalk and into Portland General. The officer took them to the OB/GYN floor. Everyone looked harried, especially the nurses. As Carrie and Brian passed two who were talking, Carrie heard, “I can’t believe it happened here.”
What had happened here? a voice inside of Carrie screamed.
Before they reached the nurses’ desk, the young police officer escorted them into the lounge. “Wait here,” he commanded, then left.
“I’ll wait here two minutes,” Brian said. “If he’s not back, I’ll go find out—”
The man who came into the lounge looked as if he’d seen more of life than he’d wanted to see. He was about five-ten, with graying black hair, a crooked nose and a square jaw. He was stocky, and his suit looked rumpled.
When he approached them, he asked, “Brian and Carrie Summers?”
They both nodded.
“I’m Detective Abe Levine.” He motioned to the sofa. “I was about to call you when Officer Moreland told me you were here. Why don’t you have a seat?”
“Why do we need to sit?” Brian asked, and Carrie could tell he was getting impatient.
“I need to explain a few things to you,” the detective responded calmly. “Please. Sit down.”
Reluctantly, Brian eased himself down beside Carrie and waited. She could count each beat of her heart because it was pounding so hard.
“We had an incident here tonight. There’s no easy way for me to say this. Lisa Sanders’s baby—your baby—was kidnapped.”
“No!” For a moment Carrie’s world went black, and she leaned against Brian.
“I know this is a shock. I want you to know we’re doing everything possible to find him.”
“How could he have been kidnapped?” Brian asked, his voice stony cold. “There’s a security code on that nursery. There are residents and nurses and mothers here all the time.”
“We haven’t figured it all out yet. We’re investigating. Asking questions. Getting details. Searching for that one tip that could lead us in the right direction.”
“You don’t have anything?” Brian asked incredulously.
“We did find something. But we’re keeping that evidence quiet. Not letting all the information out often helps us solve the crime. I need to ask you a few questions.”
“How’s Lisa?” Carrie asked, her thoughts going to the young girl who had become so important to her.
“She’s upset. She’s scared. I’ll let you see her as soon as we’re done here.”
“When did this happen?” Brian wanted to know, apparently not caring about the detective’s questions, but having a multitude of his own.
As if Brian hadn’t interrupted, the detective took out his notebook and glanced at it. “It happened around eight-fifteen.” He paused. “You and Mrs. Summers will be adopting this baby. Correct?”
“Yes,” Carrie answered.
“Miss Sanders made provisions that if anything happened to her during labor and delivery, the child would go to you.”
“Apparently you already know that’s so,” Brian snapped.
“I need to confirm it.”
“Yes, we made those provisions for her,” Brian answered. “Lisa was going to sign the adoption documents tomorrow. We couldn’t do those until after the baby was born.”
“I understand that.” The detective consulted his notes again. “The nurses told me you and Mrs. Summers fed the baby at six. What did you do afterward?”
“Are we suspects?” Brian asked.
“This is just routine, Mr. Summers.”
Carrie laid her hand on her husband’s arm. “Brian and I went out for dinner. We have the charge receipt if you need that. Then we went home and—” Her voice caught. “We were making sure everything was ready in the nursery. I washed bottles. Brian attached the car seat in the car.” They’d been so happy, so open with each other, so ready to be parents.
“I know this is hard, Mrs. Summers. Just a few more question
s.” With steady concentration he stared at Brian. “Do you have any enemies who want to see your life turned upside down?”
“No.”
“Don’t answer so quickly, Mr. Summers. In the business you’re in, I imagine there’s competition. Maybe you made a deal or two at the expense of someone else.”
“Yes, there’s competition, Detective. But all the deals I make are fair and aboveboard. If you need to look through my files, feel free. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“I might want to do that, but not quite yet.” His attention landed on Carrie. “I understand you were once a model.”
In a short amount of time, he’d found out a lot about them. “Yes, I was.”
“But you’re not anymore?”
“No.”
“You do volunteer work here?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone here particularly jealous of you? You know, gossips about you, makes snide remarks, maybe feels you have a little bit too much of everything?”
“Not that I know of, Detective.”
“I’d like you to do something for me, Mrs. Summers. Make a list of all the charity work you do, and the people you’ve worked with within the last three months. I know that’s going to be tedious, but it might help me. And, Mr. Summers, I’d like the same kind of list from you. Anyone you’ve worked with, anyone you’ve bought property from, anyone who’s invested with you. I’d also appreciate a list of your employees. The sooner you can get all of this to me, the better.”
The detective stood. “I think that about covers it for now.”
Carrie rose to her feet, feeling as if her world had just crumbled apart. But she had to get to Lisa. She had to do what she could to comfort her, too.
“I already found out from Miss Sanders that she was homeless and that Children’s Connection hooked you up with her. Can I ask you why you took her into your home?” Levine asked.
“She had no place to go,” Carrie replied.
“With due respect, I know you could have put her up in an apartment. Why let her invade your life?”
Carrie knew she’d taken Lisa in to give her own life purpose, but this detective might not understand that. “Lisa needed a place to belong. We gave her that. In return, she was going to give us her baby. It’s that simple, Detective.”
A Precious Gift Page 17