Operation Baby Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  “Not a guy. A woman. MysteryMom,” she rasped. A chill settled in her bones, and she shuddered.

  Jared grasped her upper arms, pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “Dear God, look at you. You’re shaking.” He wrapped her in a warm hug and rubbed her back. “It’s okay. I know this is upsetting. Don’t let this guy get to you.”

  She curled her fingers into his shirt and fought to steady her breathing. “B-but…what if it’s real? M-maybe Grace is alive.”

  “Ah, Elise, don’t…” Disappointment and concern weighted his tone.

  Her mind raced, hyped up on the adrenaline and the possibilities MysteryMom’s email created. Common sense told her Jared was likely right. The chances that Grace was still alive were remote. The odds that this “MysteryMom” was a con artist were high.

  But a voice in her brain wouldn’t let her discount the email out of hand. A maternal instinct deep inside screamed through the doubts that if there was even a hint that Gracie was alive somewhere, she had to do everything in her power to find her daughter and bring her home.

  Dragging in a fortifying breath, she pushed back from Jared’s embrace. Still clutching his shirtfront, she held him at arm’s length and raised her eyes to his. “What would you do if it were Isabel?”

  He tensed and scowled. “That’s not—”

  “No, think about it. If Isabel were kidnapped and the police told you they were certain she was dead and to give up ever finding her—”

  A look of horror darkened his face, and he recoiled. “Elise, don’t be—”

  “Then you got an anonymous email saying she was alive—”

  Jared sighed heavily and took a step back from her, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s not the same.”

  “You’d do everything you could to find her, wouldn’t you?”

  He gave her a disgruntled scowl. “Of course, but we’re not talking about—”

  “And I have to believe this MysteryMom is right, even if all practical sense says it’s impossible. If Grace is out there, I have to find her!” Her heart thumped a wild cadence as hope grabbed the coattails of her determination and swelled in her chest.

  Grace. Alive.

  The idea was staggering. Exhilarating. Terrifying.

  Overwhelmed by the implications, Elise swayed and collapsed in the desk chair. “If it’s true…I—I don’t even know where to begin. I—”

  A maelstrom of conflicting emotions ravaged her, clogging her throat and pricking her eyes with tears.

  Jared blew out a breath and sat in the chair beside her. “I’d say the first step is to reply to MysteryMom and get more details. Ask her who her sources are, what information led her to her conclusion. Ask her for credentials you can check out.”

  She turned to him, blinking to clear her vision. “Does this mean…you believe it could be true? You’ve changed your mind?”

  He reached for her hands and folded them between his. “It means you’re right. If I thought there was even a remote chance Isabel were alive, I’d move mountains to find her.” His eyes darkened, and he furrowed his brow. “I can’t say I’m happy about this, but if you pursue this, I’m behind you one hundred percent. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Elise flipped her hands and laced her fingers with his, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline, her only connection to Grace. “Thank you.”

  Elise left shortly after that, assuring Jared that though she was still shocked by MysteryMom’s email, she would be fine tonight. If only she was as certain of the same as she convinced him she was.

  When she got home, she pulled the email up on her laptop and hit the reply button.

  Who are you? What information do you have? How do I know I can believe you or trust your sources? If this is a joke, you are one sick puppy.

  She sent the message and was logging in to the Parents Without Children message board when a bell sound told her she had a new email. Returning to her email program, she found a notice from her internet server claiming her reply to MysteryMom was undeliverable. “The addressee’s mailbox is full,” she read aloud.

  Sighing her frustration, she returned to the message board and posted, “To MysteryMom—You have my attention, but my reply to you bounced. What’s your game?”

  She read a couple more commiserating replies to her original post and pushed away from her laptop to start getting ready for bed. Not that she thought she’d get any sleep, but she had to be at work early the next morning for a staff meeting. She would give sleep her best shot.

  Brooke was already curled in a ball at the foot of her bed, sleeping soundly, and she stroked the tabby’s fur as she made her way to the bathroom. While she brushed her teeth, her mind turning over the tantalizing possibility that Grace was alive, she heard a chime from her computer. Curious what had popped up, she wiped her mouth and crossed the room to her laptop. An instant message window from the discussion board website had appeared in the bottom corner of her screen.

  She sat down and read.

  No game. I’m your friend. I think I can help you, but you’ll have to trust me.—MysteryMom

  Elise’s pulse tripped, and she dropped heavily onto her desk chair. This was her chance to grill MysteryMom for information. Quickly, she tapped out a reply and hit the send button.

  Trust you? I don’t even know who you are.

  A few seconds later, MysteryMom answered.

  I’m afraid I can’t tell you who I am. It would jeopardize my ability to continue my work on behalf of single mothers. Please believe that I am your friend, not a prankster. —MysteryMom

  Elise scowled and typed, What work? You mentioned reliable sources gave you the information about my daughter. Who are your sources? How do I know your information is credible?

  MysteryMom replied, I have contacts in all levels of local and federal law enforcement. In recent years, I’ve made it my mission, my purpose, to reunite children with their parents. It is my passion to do this work on behalf of single mothers. I have kids of my own, and I know the love a mother has for her child.

  Elise’s fingers hovered over her keyboard as she considered her reply. She wanted desperately to believe MysteryMom could help her, could prove to her that there had been a horrific mistake at the hospital after Grace was born. Had Grace been accidentally switched with another baby? It seemed unlikely with all the safety protocols in place at hospitals these days. And yet…

  Elise typed, So what do you suspect happened to my daughter? What makes you think she is alive? What evidence do you have?

  MysteryMom answered, Your case is a bit different from the others I’ve worked on. Usually I find a missing parent, but your post to the message board reminded me of a case I’d read about here in Texas. I asked my sources to do a little leg work, and we think we may be on to something big involving the hospital where your daughter was born.

  Big…like what?

  We’re investigating the staff there and in some other hospitals in Louisiana.

  For malpractice? A class action lawsuit? What?

  It’s best I don’t say anything more until I have confirmation of the facts. I need more information from you.

  Warning bells sounded in Elise’s head, and she scowled. If MysteryMom asked for financial information, her social security number or other key facts that could lead to identity theft, Elise would know the woman—if, in fact, MysteryMom was even a woman—was a fraud, preying on her vulnerability as a grieving mother.

  Elise responded, What kind of information?

  MysteryMom asked, Were you given any drugs to put you to sleep following the birth of your baby?

  Elise gasped, remembering the injection the nurse had put in her IV despite her protests. It was while she’d been in her drug-induced sleep that Grace had died. The back of Elise’s neck prickled.

  She answered quickly, Yes, I was.

  Did you ever see your baby again after you were told she’d died?

  Nausea swamped Elise’s gut. MysteryMom’
s questions cut right to the heart of the issues that had bothered Elise the most about Grace’s death.

  Elise typed her response. No. They told me her body had already been sent to the morgue. I was devastated…hysterical over her death, and they kept me sedated until right before I was released from the hospital. I had a closed-casket funeral.

  What reason were you given for her death?

  Elise explained what she’d been told about Grace’s unexplained heart failure and the hospital’s lack of sufficient critical-care facilities for newborns.

  MysteryMom didn’t reply for several tense moments. Finally Elise typed, Does all this tell you anything? What does it mean?

  It follows the pattern we’ve uncovered.

  Elise’s breath backed up in her lungs as she reread the reply. Pattern? The term implied numerous cases similar to hers. Could it be that something more than tragic coincidence tied her loss to cases like the Harrisons’ baby and the other couple in Pine Mill she’d read about?

  Elise asked, How many other women have you heard from?

  I haven’t personally worked any other cases like yours. But with your permission, I’ll give your information to my contact who is working a similar case.

  Elise chewed her lip. Did she dare venture down this path? Was she asking for trouble trusting MysteryMom or could MysteryMom help her work a miracle? She glanced at the copy of the ultrasound picture that she kept on her bedside table. Really, there was no question. As she’d told Jared, if even a slight chance of finding Grace alive and getting her daughter back existed, it was worth the risk. You have my permission.

  She spent the next twenty minutes answering Mystery-Mom’s questions about the exact day and time of Grace’s birth, her birth weight and length. When asked about identifying birthmarks or other details that might help in the search for Grace, Elise described the small pear-shaped red mark she’d seen on Grace’s shoulder.

  Then MysteryMom replied, I need to go. I’ll catch you up on what I find out in a couple days. Let’s meet back here, same time on Sunday night.

  All right. In the meantime, what can I do to help?

  Sit tight. Be patient. Give my investigators the time and space they need to look into this. Okay?

  Elise frowned. She didn’t like the idea of sitting on the sidelines when there was so much at stake. She started typing, What if I just ask around about—

  Before she could finish her reply, the star by Mystery-Mom’s user ID disappeared, indicating she’d logged off. Sighing her frustration, Elise deleted her question and scrolled through their exchange. The same phrases jumped out at her again and buzzed through her brain. Contacts in law enforcement. Follows the pattern. I’ve made it my mission.

  Elise sat back in her chair and realized she was shaking. The idea that Grace was alive, that she could actually get her daughter back, filled her with dizzying joy and a fiery determination and purpose. She would find out the truth about what happened to Grace, no matter what it took.

  I’ve made it my mission, too.

  Chapter 5

  Elise couldn’t wait a week for the next grief-support meeting to talk to Jared about her exchange with MysteryMom. The next morning after her staff meeting at the newspaper, she phoned Jared’s house and left a message with his mother, who was filling in as babysitter while Michelle was sick. Her next call was to her brother, Michael.

  “Are you sitting down?” she asked him.

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “Grace might not be dead.”

  A brief silence followed in which she pictured Michael’s stunned expression.

  “What are you talking about? How is that possible?”

  She filled him in on everything that had transpired in the past few weeks, including meeting the Harrisons, posting on the Parents Without Children message board and MysteryMom’s shocking announcement. When she was finished, she waited for him to comment.

  “Well?” she nudged.

  “You can’t be taking this whack job seriously, can you? You had a funeral. You buried Grace, Elise. All the wishing in the world is not going to bring her back.”

  His blunt disbelief gouged at her heart. “But what if she never really died? MysteryMom asked if I’d ever actually seen her body, and it sank in that I hadn’t. I’d been mourning the fact I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, but I’d never let myself believe that it could mean she wasn’t really dead.”

  “Elise, she’s dead. Hospitals don’t make mistakes about that. They might make mistakes in diagnoses or amputate the wrong leg sometimes, but dead is pretty cut-and-dried.”

  “But MysteryMom implied there could be—”

  “Elise, stop. I love you, and I know how much losing your baby hurt you, but this is crazy!”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you have any idea how much losing Grace hurt me? You never call to check on me, and heaven forbid you visit. Michael, you’re all the family I have, and—”

  “Oh, here we go again,” he interrupted. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time right now. I’m sorry this person has fed you this pipe dream, but that’s all it is. Don’t buy into it. Don’t torture yourself with false hopes.”

  “But—”

  “Bye, Elise.” The line clicked dead in her ear.

  She gritted her teeth and shoved down the disappointment that her only family could be so unsupportive. Maybe he meant well, but his lack of faith still hurt.

  But Michael had had his feelings betrayed by their parents, too. He’d been shifted around from one foster home to the next and learned to guard his heart and hoard his trust like she had.

  Her thoughts drifted to Jared, how he’d warned her MysteryMom could be a crank, as well. But even if he hadn’t completely changed his mind about MysteryMom, he’d come around enough to support Elise in pursuing the possibility Grace was alive. She appreciated his backing more than he might ever know.

  Jared’s support meant even more to her the next Thursday night when she explained the turn of events to the grief-support group. After laying out the gist of what MysteryMom had claimed, she glanced from one face to the next around the circle. Expressions ranged from dubious concern to scoffing dismissal.

  “Elise…” Joleen began, and by her tone, Elise knew she was about to be cautioned again about the unlikelihood that MysteryMom’s assertions had any merit.

  She held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. I know how it sounds, but if there’s a chance it is true, I have to follow up on it.”

  “Sometimes our grief is so great that we create alternate realities,” Joleen said, clearly picking her words carefully, “or build our hope around fantasies that have no basis.”

  Elise sighed her frustration, and Jared, who had sat quietly beside her as she made her case, reached over and took her hand. He gave her fingers a squeeze of support, and her agitation calmed enough to hear Joleen out.

  “Denial and bargaining are steps in the grieving process, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t advise you to let go of this. You’ll only prolong the healing process and hurt yourself more by indulging in this wild goose chase.”

  Tears of disappointment stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. Shifting her attention to the Harrisons, Elise asked, “What would you do?”

  Greg shook his head and waved her off. “I don’t want to speculate.”

  “Kim? If it turns out that Grace is really alive, it could mean your baby didn’t really die, either.”

  Kim gasped and stared at her with an expression that was half horror and half hope.

  “Elise, don’t.” Joleen’s tone was firm and unyielding. “I may not be able to talk you out of following this destructive path, but do not sabotage Kim’s or any other member’s healing by poisoning her with false hope. If you do, I’ll have to ask you to leave the group.”

  Stunned by Joleen’s ultimatum, Elise opened her mouth, but words didn’t come. She scanned the faces around the circle. Some seemed
disappointed in her, others hostile. Jared gave her a penetrating look that begged her to drop the subject.

  Clearly the bomb she’d dropped on the group had been emotional and controversial. She’d expected a strong reaction, but she’d hoped at least a few of the group’s members would be supportive of her decision to trust MysteryMom and search for Grace.

  Sharp-edged rejection and betrayal sliced through her, every bit as dispiriting as when her father had dumped her and Michael in a foster home and walked away. Pulling her hand from Jared’s, she rose from her chair, her legs shaking.

  “Elise?” Jared sat straighter, worry etched in his brow.

  “I…h-have to go,” she croaked.

  “Elise, don’t leave. Please.” Joleen’s expression had softened, and she motioned toward Elise’s empty chair. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh, but my job is to facilitate a healthy and productive conversation in managing our grief. I just can’t, in good conscience, condone what I honestly believe is a counterproductive, even dangerous, mind-set on your part.”

  Elise backed toward the door. “I understand. No hard feelings, but…this is…it’s something I have to do.”

  With that, she turned and hurried through the corridor of the church and toward the exit. She heard the scrape of a chair in the meeting room and the pounding of running feet behind her.

  “Elise, wait.”

  She paused, hand on the door handle, tears stinging her sinuses, and let Jared catch up to her. “Everyone thinks I’m nuts for buying into MysteryMom’s theory and pursuing her contentions. My brother called it a pipe dream.”

  Jared put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. Cupping her chin with his palm, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t think you’re nuts.”

  “Really? The other day, when I read that first email from MysteryMom, you said—”

  “I know what I said. And I still have a few doubts about this whole crazy scenario. But…” He pulled her into a firm embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve thought a lot about what you asked me the other night. In your position, I’d absolutely do the same thing.”