by Rita Herron
She removed a chart from the door, making notations while she talked. “We have about ten regulars who swap shifts. Four on duty every night, except when we’re full. Then we have to work double shifts.”
A couple of other nurses passed by, one with a medicine tray, the other carrying a food tray. A stoop-shouldered older man pushed a broom in the hallway. He lifted his head to stare at Gavin, but each time Gavin glanced toward him, the man ducked his head back to his chore. He favored his left leg and kept twitching his head to the side. Something seemed a little off about the man.
“How about the night Lindsey gave birth?”
Brenda Leigh shifted. “Everyone except Janet went to County to help out with that factory explosion. We had victims in every available cubicle that evening.”
The accident seemed almost too coincidental, Gavin thought, uneasy. He’d have to find out what triggered the explosion. “Lindsey said there were complications with the baby. Why w’t she transferred?”
“Wasn’t time,” Brenda Leigh said, her voice low. “Besides they wouldn’t have had room for her anyway. Dr. Cross and Janet handled everything.”
“This nurse, Janet, do you know where she is?”
She jerked her head back, her eyes sharp. “She’s on vacation, far as I know. What do you want with her?”
“I’d like to talk to her about that night.”
The old man with the broom raised his head and looked at him again, but he quickly turned away when Gavin caught him. “I thought you were a friend of Lindsey’s. You sound more like a policeman to me.”
“I’m both. I came here to find out what happened to Lindsey’s baby.”
The woman made a clicking sound with her teeth. “Her baby died of a heart defect—that’s all there was to it. Even doctors can’t save ’em all.”
His throat felt tight. “Are you aware that Lindsey claims someone tried to kill her, twice? She also thinks her baby might still be alive.”
Shock darted across the nurse’s plump features. “You’re serious?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you believe her?”
Did he? “I believe something strange happened that night.”
“Mr. McCord, I hate to say this, ’cause I feel sorry for that woman, losing a child and all, but Lindsey held the baby herself after he died. The trauma may have been too much for her. It sounds like she may be delusional.”
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “But I’m going to find the truth if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“You’d be better off seeking psychiatric help for her before she goes over the deep end.” She twisted the doorknob and bustled into the room, her earlier friendly demeanor evaporating. Her change in demeanor testified to her anger. Or maybe to the guilt of her lies?
LINDSEY FOLDED her hands around the sheets, trying to forget the fear she’d felt when she’d woken up to the smell of gas and the terror of once again lying in a hospital bed in the same clinic where she’d lost her baby. She stared at the doorway, praying Gavin would show up and take her home.
Praying he’d find their child.
The minutes ticked by weighted in time. Finally Gavin opened the door. He stood in the entryway, looking hesitant and nervous, a shadow of darkness and strength in the filtered light from the doorway.
What was Gavin thinking? Did he believe her? Did he hate her for not telling him earlier or did he feel trapped into helping her?
“Hi, are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “I’m ready to leave.”
The toe of his scuffed boot scrapor, “Did the doctor release you?”
“No. I was hoping he’d be by soon.”
He walked toward her, his face solemn, the taut lines of his jaw razor sharp with restrained emotion. His dark gaze raked over her, a tiny flicker of need and desire sparking in the depths. Not enough to indicate his feelings for her, but enough to unsettle her already shaky nerves. The same way they had when she’d first met him, when he’d protected her before the trial.
Gavin was wicked but tender. Too tempting to play with. Too private to fully understand. Too damned controlled to ever reveal his real feelings.
If he had any for her at all.
A fine shadow of dark hair broadened his earthy-brown jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved again this morning. Framed by thick, long black lashes, his eyes radiated masculinity. The kind a woman couldn’t resist.
But she had to. Gavin McCord was dangerous. Like the heat of a fire if you stood too close to the flame. She couldn’t allow herself to be trapped into the blazing depths of his fiery eyes like she had months ago.
“Why were you at the house so early this morning?” Lindsey asked.
He shrugged, the fabric of his shirt stretching tight across his broad shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep. I was worried.” A self-deprecating laugh rumbled from his throat. “Damn good thing.”
“Thanks…” The rest of her sentence burned in her raw throat, the words lost.
His jaw tightened again. “I should have been there all along.”
She dropped her gaze to her hands, knotting the sheet around her fingers. “I…we can’t change the past, Mac.”
“It’s true though. We both know it.”
Lindsey couldn’t argue the point so she simply allowed the silence to absorb the tension. Maybe the softly spoken apology would help them move past their mistakes. He had pushed her away when she had needed him most. Not that she wanted him to feel responsible for what had happened, but she couldn’t deny she’d needed him during the pregnancy…and then afterwards. But guilt ate at her like a starving animal. She was the mother, the one who’d lost their child. What could she have done differently?
His dark eyes probed her with their intensity. “I—”
“Don’t.” Lindsey refused to listen to false promises. “I told you, Gavin, all I want—”
“I know, is to find our baby.”
She nodded, completely lost when she noticed the emotions swirling in his eyes. Grief and guilt, tenderness…and fury. For their baby? For her?
“Why did you come here, Lindsey, to this clinic? You could have driven to Raleigh.”
“I live in Maple Hollow.” She stiffened, wondering if he was passing judgment on her for her choice of medical facilities. “Most of the women around here use the clinic. My labor came so quickly I couldn’t drive myself all the way to Ashevill
He gritted his teeth, obviously understanding the implication—she’d been alone with no one to help her.
“I’m not stupid, Gavin, I know this place is small, but it has a good reputation and it’s close,” she continued. He sent her a damning expression. Maybe he was blaming her, hating her. Just as she blamed herself.
“The whole idea of the clinic is to offer a more home-like experience,” she whispered. “The comfortable setting is supposed to be conducive for the mother-child bonding. I wasn’t expecting any problems.”
“People rarely do,” he said more gently than she’d expected. “Do they have emergency equipment? Does the doctor do tests for at-risk deliveries?”
“Yes, I had a sonogram every other month. And if Dr. Cross suspects a problem, he refers patients to the hospital in Asheville. We had no reason to believe my delivery wouldn’t go smoothly.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “The morning I delivered, I’d been in for my regular checkup, and everything was fine. But shortly after I left the clinic, I started having contractions.”
“The nurse who disappeared—did you know her very well?”
“No, but I liked her,” Lindsey said. “She had a great bedside manner with the younger patients.”
Gavin frowned, remembering the young girl in the waiting room. “Are there a lot of young patients?”
“I don’t know. Why—”
The door opened and Lindsey faltered as a tall, lanky doctor strode in. “Dr. Cross, I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
He adjusted the stethoscope dangling around his nec
k, his eyebrows drawn. “I know, Avery treated you when you first arrived. But when I heard it was you, I had to see you myself.” He gave Gavin a quick once-over, then headed straight to Lindsey’s side. “How are you feeling, Lindsey?”
Lindsey sighed. “Better. It was pretty scary though, waking up to that gas.”
“What did you do, leave on the stove or something?”
Lindsey shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
The doctor checked her breathing. “Sounds clear. And your tests came back normal. I think we can release you.”
“Good,” Lindsey said softly. “I can’t wait to go home.”
GAVIN WATCHED the exchange, scrutinizing Cross’s behavior. He’d expected an old country guy, but Cross appeared well-groomed and fit, probably in his early fifties, slightly salt-and-pepper at the temples, intelligent. Truly concerned about Lindsey. Judging from his tan, probably a golfer. “The sheriff is investigating the gas incident for foul play,” Gavin said, watching the doctor for a reaction.
Cross’s wide-set eyes flitted from Lindsey to Gavin. “I’m afraid we haven’t met, sir.”
introduced himself, studying the man’s reaction when Lindsey introduced him as a detective from Raleigh.
But the doctor’s expression remained steady. “Does the sheriff have reason to suspect a problem at Miss Payne’s house?”
“The fire chief thinks someone cut the gas line in the house. He found some wire cutters outside.”
“Oh, my God, Gavin,” Lindsey said. “He really thinks someone tried to hurt me.”
“It’s possible, Linds.” He squeezed her hand between his own. “And if they did, I promise we’ll find them.”
“What possible reason would someone have to hurt Miss Payne?” Cross asked.
“My baby,” Lindsey murmured. “I’ve been asking questions, searching for him.”
Dr. Cross appeared stunned. “Have you been taking the sedatives I gave you?”
Gavin rolled his shoulders to suppress his own surprise. Lindsey hadn’t mentioned drugs.
“No, I haven’t taken the pills at all.”
Dr. Cross patted her shoulder sympathetically. “I know losing your baby was difficult, but I thought you were dealing with the grief. You saw Mrs. Odum, the counselor, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said tightly. “But I’ve received bizarre phone calls telling me my son is alive.” She explained about the card and the autopsy report.
Cross’s hand trembled as he tucked his pen in his lab pocket. “I’m terribly sorry someone is doing this to you, but you and I both know your baby died.” He lowered his voice, his tone placating. “I held him, Lindsey. And so did you.”
A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on Lindsey’s forehead. “I still don’t think the baby I buried was mine.”
Concern darkened Cross’s face. “I know the loss of a newborn is difficult, but try to accept your loss, and move on. You’re young, unmarried, you have your whole life ahead of you. You can have another child.”
Gavin realized the doctor meant to be helpful, but guilt and remorse and fear clawed at him. He wanted to shake the man, make him say the things Lindsey wanted to hear. The things he wanted to hear.
But he was a cop. Becoming volatile would only hinder his investigation. But if he found out the doctor was lying…
He intervened before Lindsey could reply. “Dr. Cross, can I speak with you in your office while Lindsey changes?”
Cross nodded and Lindsey reached for Gavin’s hand. “I don’t have clothes, Gavin, just my gown.”
He squeezed her hand gently and handed her a bag. “I went by your house and picked up some things for you.”
Cross gave Lindsey another pitying look as he left the room. Gavin opened the bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a pale pink sweater. “I’ll be back to drive you home. That is, unless you need some help.”
She bit down on her lower lip, then shook her head no.
Gavin found the doctor’s office and rapped on the open door, then forged in. “I’d like to know what happened with Lindsey’s delivery.”
The doctor stood behind his desk, angling his body toward the sunlight streaming through the venetian blinds. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients—”
“Don’t start that confidentiality stuff with me. Lindsey asked me to investigate and that’s what I’m doing. We can walk back down there and ask her permission if you want.”
Cross frowned, then pulled a file from his drawer. “All right. Maybe you can help Lindsey accept the truth. God knows I’ve tried.” He opened the file and sat down, looking weary as he thumbed through the papers. “When Lindsey came in, she was already dilated nine centimeters. But the baby hadn’t dropped.
“Lindsey showed signs of eclampsia. I discovered the baby was breech. The fetus was obviously in distress. Lindsey’s contractions were coming one right on top of the other.” His face grew more and more agitated. “There were other complications, and we had to do a C-section.”
Gavin stood motionless, forcing himself to listen to the details and catalog them as a detective instead of the man who should have been protecting the mother of his child.
“When I delivered the baby, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. He wasn’t breathing on his own.” He paused, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. “But I unwrapped the cord and gave him some oxygen.”
He rifled through more papers. “We administered the Apgar score, put drops in the baby’s eyes, all the routine things. Then I let Lindsey hold him for a minute, but she started hemorrhaging, so Janet, my nurse, took the baby while we tended to Lindsey.”
“Was Lindsey awake during all this?”
“No, the medicine made her groggy. She slipped in and out of consciousness. Afterward, she was exhausted from the delivery, so we stabilized her and let her sleep.” His eyebrows drew into a frown. “The baby died during the night. Apparently he had a congenital heart condition we didn’t detect at birth. But even if we had, we couldn’t have saved him.”
“Lindsey claims Nurse Quinn left town the next day and hasn’t been heard from since?”
Cross frowned. “The woman hasn’t taken a vacation in years. But she was so upset over losing the baby, she needed some time off. Lindsey’s not making something suspicious out of Janet’s trip, is she?”
Gavin held up a hand to calm him. “No, but her sudden departure does seem odd. Tell me about the other patient, a woman who was admitted the same night as Lindsey.”
Cross closed the file. “There was no other patient. Lindsey must have been confused from the medication, probably heard a couple of the nurses talking. Drugs can play funny tricks on your mind.”
“I’m not making up all th
Gavin and the doctor both swung their gazes to the doorway where Lindsey stood, angry and trembling. “And it wasn’t the drugs. I heard a woman crying that night. I’m sure she had a baby, too. Maybe she lost it, maybe her baby died instead of mine and someone switched it.”
“My God, Lindsey, you don’t really believe I’d allow something like that to happen?” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the wall of baby photographs on the bulletin board behind his desk. “Even though malpractice insurance is sky-high and some doctors are relinquishing their delivery services, I pride myself on caring for women during their pregnancies. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies over the years. I can’t believe you’d even suggest I’d do something so vile.” He stood abruptly. “Now, I need to check on my patients. And Lindsey, I strongly suggest you talk to a counselor.”
Hurt crumpled Lindsey’s face. She started to argue, but Gavin took her arm, gently guiding her outside.
“I’m not making this up,” Lindsey whispered fiercely when they’d left the building and were standing by his car.
“I never said you were.”
She clutched his arms, searching his face. “Then you believe me?”
The hope in her voice ate at him. “I don’t k
now what to believe, Linds, but I’m not giving up.”
Gravel crackled behind him, then Gavin heard a strange sound, as if something was scraping the concrete. The janitor from the clinic shuffled toward them, one leg slightly dragging behind him.
Lindsey’s face softened. “Andy?”
“Hey, Miss Lindsey.”
He stared first at Gavin, then at Gavin’s hand where he held Lindsey’s arm. For some reason, the old guy looked annoyed. No, protective maybe. Even jealous. Gavin dropped his hands to his side.
“You all right, Miss Lindsey?”
Lindsey’s soft lips curved into a smile. “Yes, Andy, this is Gavin McCord. He’s a friend of mine from Raleigh.”
“Raleigh?” The man’s face suddenly broke into a smile. “I got a cousin lives th-there. Right by th-the big mall. He takes me to the c-circus pizza place and we p-play video games.”
Gavin realized he was right about the old man being slightly off. He had to concentrate to string his words together. What did he want?
Lindsey reached for his hand and patted it between hers. “It’s good to see you, Andy.”
“You was h-hurt?”
“Yes, but I’m fine now,” Lindsey said, quickly explaining about the gas leak.
Andy nodded, his mouth twisting sideways. “I sorry about your b-baby.”
Lindsey squeezed his hand again. “I know, Andy. He was a boy, you know. I named him Cory.”
Gavin’s chest swelled with longing at the sound of his son’s name. “We came to talk to Dr. Cross about the baby.”
Before he could ask if the old man had seen anything, Andy surprised him. “I heard you talking to D-Dr. Cross.” His impairment became more pronounced as he tried to explain. “You be right. Somethin’ w-weird’s going on here.”
Lindsey folded her arms around her middle. “What is it, Andy? Did you forget where they keep the juice boxes again?”
Andy’s hand shook as he scratched the back of his thinning hair. “No, Ma’am,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. “It’s somethin’ w…orse than that. Somethin’ aw…ful.” His movements seemed jerky as he leaned toward Lindsey. “I think the d-doctor’s lying.”