Grounds to Believe

by Shelley Bates

  “Julia, are you sure about this? Rebecca probably won’t approve.”

  “I’ll deal with Rebecca.” She lifted Kailey down from the seat of the bike and grasped her warm little fingers in her own. “See you over there.”

  The motel room door barely had a chance to swing shut before Ross grabbed the phone and dialed Ray Harper’s pager number, with the 9-1-1 emergency code that told his partner to drop everything and call.

  It took Ray a minute and twenty seconds.

  “What have you got, bud?” Ray’s voice was breathless, as if he’d run up a flight of stairs. “Is Kailey all right? Did something happen with the custody thing?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ve got her. They pulled some strings for me. Thanks for getting the paperwork out here so fast. That really greased the process.”

  “Don’t mention it. As I keep reminding you, we’re partners. How’s the case going? If it were me, I’d bag the whole thing and get back here with my kid.”

  “I’m tempted. But I feel responsible for this other kid, too. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but Kailey drove it out of my mind. Tell me about that woman and her kid again. That one from your last tour of duty.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because something’s bugging me about this case. I want to see how it compares with yours, but I don’t remember enough about it.”

  “I remember being on patrol for four years straight because of it. That’s what messing in these family cases will get you.”

  Ross frowned. “Give me the details.”

  “You asked for it. It was when I was working down in Pasqualie. Single mom, kid sick constantly, in and out of hospitals all his life. He was about three when the hospital alerted us. They were suspicious something weird was going on.”

  “What happened to the kid?”

  “They thought she was poisoning him. So did I. I did everything but rig the house with cameras to catch her at it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Nope. She was pregnant with somebody else’s kid and I had my case all built, ready to pop her and go to court. Know what happened?”

  “You never said.”

  “It’s not the kind of stuff you broadcast. She had her second kid and the hospital discovered the exact same symptoms.”

  “She was abusing both kids?” Ross’s voice held his incredulity. “A newborn?”

  “No. It was a disease. The second kid by a different father proved it was genetic, that she was a carrier of some kind. And there I was with the D.A. ready to go, a bunch of nurses lined up to be witnesses in court. I was ready to arrest her when I found out. But by then it was too late. The hospital called my lieutenant and made a big stink about it—as if they hadn’t called me in the first place. I got hauled into Staffing and laughed back down to patrol for my crazy witch-hunting ideas.”

  Cold sweat prickled on Ross’s forehead. He could be in the same position if he wasn’t careful. “How did you find out?”

  “Linda Chang over at the forensics lab. I was planning to use her for a witness. To do that I had to get her a blood sample from everybody, kids and mother. She’s the one who found proof of this disease.” Ray paused. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to touch these mother-and-kid cases. It’s too easy to see something that isn’t there.”

  Ross shook his head slowly. “I’ve got to find out, one way or another. Wrap this up quickly and get on with my life.” A life that looked completely different from the one he’d had a week ago.

  “I’m telling you, don’t do it.”

  “Right, Ray, I’m going to just drop it and let the kid suffer? Maybe die?”

  “I’m not saying drop it. Just don’t go as far as prosecution. It’s suicide.”

  “Yeah, for the kid.”

  “Three weeks away and I forget how stubborn you are. Look, at least talk to Linda before you go and do something stupid. I just saw her in the cafeteria. She was on her way back to her office.”

  “Ray, I can’t talk right now. I’ve got to get Kailey settled. Julia’s waiting for me.”

  “I warn you. The body count is piling up. We got some kind of nutcase running around here with lamp cords and duct tape. If you don’t catch her now you might have to wait a week.”

  “Ryan doesn’t have a week.”

  “I rest my case. Hang on while I transfer you. I’ll give her the condensed version and you take it from there.”

  Cold dread churned in his stomach while he waited. Then the call went through with a click. “Dr. Chang?”

  “Yes. I understand you want to talk about a case.” She sounded about twenty years old, but with her record in court, she was probably closer to forty.

  “I appreciate whatever help you can give me.”

  “I’ve got about ten minutes before some stomach contents get here. Tell me the details.”

  The woman did not waste time. He flipped a page in his notebook and launched into a description of Ryan’s short life, the patterns it contained and what little he’d managed to learn from Rita, Julia and Dr. Archer. When he finished, he added, “My informant is a pediatric nurse at the hospital. The administration isn’t listening, so she came to us. She’s suspicious that the kid’s being abused, but has no proof. Ryan’s been released and has been home less than a week, and the last I heard, they were talking about opening him up again and sticking in a feeding tube. I’ve got to tell you, Dr. Chang, I don’t know much about medicine, but I know I’m worried about this situation.”

  Over the static of long distance, a pencil scratched on a note pad. “I hate to ask you this, but do you know how difficult to prosecute these cases are?”

  “I already had a lecture from my partner. But I also need to know if there might be the possibility of abuse.”

  “There might. It sounds to me, based on all those symptoms, that your informant has good instincts. But that’s not enough. Tell me more about the mother.”

  “I don’t have much, but I do know she’s been the center of attention her whole life. Parents adore her, friends think she can do no wrong. They’re in this church that thinks she’s a saint.”

  “A certain type of personality needs that.”

  Ross went on, “She plays mind games with the doctor. She’s in total control as far as the kid’s care is concerned. Never leaves his side.”

  “What about the father? Is he distant? Does he control other aspects of her life?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but the church lays down the law along traditional lines. Men have all the say.”

  “Uh-huh. And the pattern of abuse is a clear signal. You noticed that every time there’s an event in the family to take the attention off her, the child gets sick.”

  “Yes. The family blames the kid’s fragility. I wondered if it was something else—some kind of religious rite.”

  “That would be easier to believe. Investigator Malcolm, have you ever heard of Munchausen’s syndrome by proxy?”

  The ugly words chilled him as she gave his fear a name. “I’ve heard of it. Never been involved in a case, though.”

  “This mother fits the profile in many ways. Have you done any research on it?”

  “No, but Ray told me what happened on that case you and he worked on.”

  Dr. Chang’s voice hardened. “He was operating on an assumption based on the evidence he had at the time. It wasn’t until the second baby was born that we realized the evidence could go both ways.”

  “It can in this case, too.”

  “I wouldn’t say so. From what you’ve told me, the pattern is consistent with events in the family. Ray’s case was completely different.”

  “I’m not going to start a witch-hunt and prosecute someone with a reputation for being an exemplary mother.”

  “But the majority of women who fit this profile are seen that way. The maternal bond is sacred in our society, so people aren’t willing to believe MSBP exists. There’s a lot of research on it out there
now. A few years ago there were only a couple of hundred reported cases. Now they’re making TV shows about it and the pendulum is swinging the other way, attacking innocent mothers with legitimately sick kids. You’re right. It’s all too easy to do a witch-hunt.” Dr. Chang paused. “But the victim—the child—has to come first.”

  Ross nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “Of course. I’m scared I might be wrong. But if I’m right and something happens to the kid…” He swallowed. “You’re short on time, here. Can you just tell me if it’s possible to generate the kid’s symptoms? And what might be used?”

  Dr. Chang sighed. “It would need to be something easily available to the caregiver. People use anything from rubbing alcohol to ant poison to their child’s own feces to create gastric distress. From your description of his symptoms it could be some form of grain alcohol. But without a blood sample, of course, I’m just guessing. You say the symptoms have been going on for nearly three years? Vomiting, lethargy, gastric bleeding?”

  “From the documentation in the file, I’d say so.”

  “Well, I must say it would take some medical training to know exactly how much to administer over time. Otherwise it would kill him. If you think you have enough evidence, you need to do something before they put the feeding tube in. It creates direct access to his GI tract. In his condition he isn’t going to be able to fight any foreign substances.”

  His stomach twisted as he got a mental flash of Madeleine injecting something—isopropyl?—into a tube, the fast lane to Ryan’s vulnerable gastric system. “She did have some nurse’s training apparently.”

  “But these symptoms could indicate any number of diseases. A simple ulcer, for one. Epilepsy, even.”

  “His doctor would have found those long before now.”

  “Not if he’s testing for something specific. Anything outside that screen would be missed. I’m still curious about the mother. You say she’s a good caregiver?”

  “The best. Like I said, the community reveres her. Her husband worships the ground she walks on, and so does every other man she knows. The family doctor has been in love with her since she was eighteen.”

  He heard what sounded like a snort. “Not a good sign, then. She could bring the kid in bleeding from a stab wound and he’d believe anything she said. You seriously think this is how she maintains her standing in the community? This church?”

  “One of the ways. Her sister’s been talking to me: I’m also using her as an informant.” This felt like a confessional. “When my informant, Julia, brought me to the church, everyone’s attention swung to us. That’s when Ryan took a downturn. And I started to get a weird feeling about it.”

  “Don’t feel responsible for that,” Linda Chang said. “If your suspicions are correct, it would fit her particular pattern. The mother sees that the church is paying attention to her sister instead of her, so her reaction could be to hurt the child…if she suffers from MSBP. And that’s a big if at this point without hard data.”

  The chill spread through Ross’s body. That was the problem. There were too many ifs. The suspicions that had taken root that afternoon on the hillside when Julia had pointed out the patterns in her family life could be explained in a number of different ways. And he couldn’t prosecute until he’d narrowed them down to one.

  “What am I going to do?” he asked heaven, scraping his fingertips through his cropped hair in agitation.

  Dr. Chang replied as if he’d asked her. “You’re going to get me a blood sample, to begin with. And then you’ve got to catch her in the act of administering the substance, on video if possible. Nothing else is going to stand up in court.”

  Ross tried to imagine setting up video surveillance in the Blanchard home. That’d be about as easy as riding his bike into their living room. “This church is so conservative they don’t even watch TV. And how would I get consent from the husband? He thinks she’s the Madonna.”

  “What about the sister? Could she help? Or the nurse? Even the doctor. There’s got to be a way to get to one of them. Quietly. Don’t do what Ray did and get the entire hospital lined up, only to find out you’re wrong.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  “I hope so. In my opinion, regardless of the cause of his illness, this child doesn’t have much time.”

  Ross had prayed many prayers in his lifetime—thankful prayers, angry prayers, humble prayers. On his knees by the bed, he learned for the first time what it was like to pray a desperate prayer for two children who affected him deeply in different but equally powerful ways.

  He would do everything in his power to get Kailey through the adjustment process and back to a normal life. But as far as he could tell, only God’s help was going to get Ryan through this one.

  Chapter Twenty

  It seemed to Julia that the thing Kailey liked most about her apartment was how soft everything was.

  The second time she saw the little girl cuddled up in the corner of the couch under the knitted afghan, she put down the knife she was slicing apples with, and sat beside her. “Are you cold, sweetie?”

  Kailey stroked the afghan. “It’s soft. Pretty.” She bounced a little on the couch cushion. “So is this. And your bed.” Her tone held wonder. “Everything.”

  Julia smiled, and stroked the afghan too. “Not quite everything. The corners of that little table there are pretty sharp. And you don’t want to clunk your head on the bathroom sink, either.”

  “You have a bathroom? All your own?”

  “I sure do. Tonight you can have a bath if you like.”

  Kailey scowled. “Don’t like baths. They’re cold.”

  “Mine isn’t. I have lots of hot water. I don’t have any bath toys but I have lots of soaps that smell pretty. You could have a raspberry soap or a lime one.”

  Julia brought her a plate of apple slices spread with peanut butter and a glass of milk. “This is just a snack until your dad gets here.” Kailey ate like a kitten, with delicate bites, licking her lips after each one to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

  The hollow sound of footsteps on the stairs brought Julia to her feet. “There’s your dad now.”

  She swung open the door and Rebecca blinked at her in surprise. “Julia. I didn’t think you were home.” She waved a piece of paper, then stuck it in her pocket. “I was going to leave you a note, but now I don’t have to. May I come in?”

  Julia stepped back, a little flustered. She’d been so consumed with Ross and Kailey and making life-changing choices that she’d forgotten about the possibility of being evicted.

  “Sure.”

  Kailey covered herself with the afghan and peered over the arm of the couch. The fringe hung in her eyes like the ruff of a woolly sheepdog as she watched Rebecca warily.

  “My goodness,” Rebecca said, taking in the child, the half-full glass of milk, and the fact that Julia was wearing jeans. “This is different.”

  Julia had never before been subjected to the up-and-down evaluation of her dress. Alma Woods was quite good at it, but usually Julia and her small circle of friends were so self-conscious that they gave the older women nothing to criticize. She realized for the first time exactly what a “speaking glance” was. She stiffened her spine. Getting caught in jeans was just the beginning.

  “Rebecca, this is Kailey Malcolm,” Julia said steadily. “Kailey, say hello to Miss Quinn.”

  “Hello, Kailey,” Rebecca said gently. Kailey didn’t reply. Instead, she tugged the afghan over her head and made herself small in the corner of the couch.

  “Are you baby-sitting, dear?” Rebecca asked. She moved a cushion out of the way and sat in the easy chair.

  “No, this is Ross’s daughter.”

  Rebecca looked confused. “Ross? The young man on the motorcycle? I didn’t know he was a father. Or married.”

  “He isn’t married. Kailey’s mother died recently and Ross and Kailey have just been reunited. It’s a long story.”

  “Long enough to
explain why you weren’t at the young people’s meeting?”

  Trust Rebecca to jump right in.

  “Yes. Ross found out Kailey was in Pitchford so we went to get her.”

  Rebecca gazed at Julia for a moment, her eyes very blue and clear over the silver rims of her glasses. “You know that you’re one of my very favorite people, don’t you, dear?”

  “Am I?” Julia wondered how long that would last. If she were a betting woman, she’d estimate about seven or eight minutes.

  “And I know you’ve often come to me to talk things over when by rights you should have gone to your mother. In fact, I look on you as the daughter I never had. Which is why it distresses me that you didn’t let me know you were out of town overnight.”

  “Rebecca, I’m twenty-six. If I want to go somewhere, I don’t need to ask permission.”

  “I didn’t say anything about asking permission. But I would have appreciated having some kind of story to give your mother, your brother-in-law and Melchizedek when they called me one after the other. Once they found out you weren’t in the young people’s meeting and Derrick didn’t know where you were, there was a hue and cry the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Silly geese.”

  Julia gaped at her.

  “It was very awkward. It’s been a while since I had to play stupid, but I did it. After all the hueing and crying was done, I simply said I had no idea, and no doubt you would have a perfectly good explanation when you came home.”

  “Thanks.” Julia couldn’t think of another thing to say.

  “You’re most welcome. I would prepare myself, dear. I have no doubt you counted the cost before you went to Pitchford, and that it was worth it.”

  Julia glanced at the couch, where Kailey had partially emerged and was looking at Rebecca with great curiosity. “Yes, it was worth it. We found her in the county shelter, and it took some time to get through the legalities. She was just released into his custody this morning, and we took the bus back. Ross should be here any minute.”