Amanda Stevens Bestseller Collection: Stranger In Paradise/A Baby's Cry

by Amanda Stevens

  “Should we call Nicholas?” Taylor asked, accepting the cup of coffee Dillon handed her. She took a sip and grimaced.

  “Let’s wait until we know something. No sense worrying the poor kid more than he already is.” Dillon sat down beside Taylor and sipped his coffee.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw Nicholas tonight. I had no idea Doris Rafferty was his grandmother. When I spoke with her on the phone, she told me her name was Baker, Kay Baker, and she said Nicholas’s parents were out of the country. That’s why they couldn’t come in and meet with me. Why did she lie to me?”

  “I don’t know.” Dillon set his coffee cup aside. “I guess we’ll have to wait until she regains consciousness to tell us.”

  But Doris didn’t regain consciousness. She’d suffered a massive coronary and the prognosis did not look good.

  After several hours, Dillon said, “Look, you may as well go home. There’s no sense both of us staying here.”

  But Taylor wouldn’t budge. “I’m staying. If she regains consciousness, she might be able to talk to us.”

  “I’ll go see if I can find a doctor who can tell us something,” Dillon said. “You want to come?”

  “No, you go on. I’d like to call Neal and check on Nicholas.”

  After Dillon left, Taylor walked around the corner of the waiting room to the bank of pay phones lining one wall. She punched the number Dillon had given to her and listened as the phone rang once, twice, then on the third ring, someone reached over her shoulder and disconnected the call.

  Thinking it was Dillon, Taylor turned and said, “Hey, why did you do—”

  A doctor wearing green scrubs, mask and cap stood staring down at her with eyes that were cold and gray, completely without emotion. As recognition filled Taylor with terror, she whirled to run, but the man grabbed her and pulled her roughly toward him. His hand clapped over her mouth, and as Taylor struggled to free herself, she felt the sharp jab of a needle in her arm.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “My baby! What’s wrong with my baby?”

  “It’s okay,” said the nurse with the Spanish accent. Lara Mendoza smiled down at her. “Everything’s okay.”

  The other nurse appeared at Taylor’s side. “Hold her,” Doris Rafferty ordered, and then Taylor felt the sharp prick of a needle in her hip.

  “No! Don’t put me under. My baby—” She had to make sure her baby was all right. “Oh, Dillon, help me,” she screamed.

  As if from a distance, she heard the sound of a baby’s cry and then people whispering beside her.

  A woman’s voice, anxious and distraught, “If anyone ever finds out what we did tonight—”

  “They won’t,” said a familiar male voice. “We’ve covered our tracks. The records have all been changed. Who’s going to tell? Doris? She’s got what she wants. Lara? Bought and paid for. That leaves you and me, babe…”

  As the dream faded away, Taylor’s lids fluttered open. The first thing she became aware of was the antiseptic smell of a hospital room. As her senses slowly returned, she felt her terror returning. Images rushed through her mind. The pay phone. The doctor. The prick of a needle in her arm.

  She gazed at the gurney she was lying on with dawning horror. What had he done to her?

  Taylor tried to get up, but her arms and legs were too weak. The walls were moving around her, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the motion. When she opened them again, she realized it wasn’t the walls that were moving. It was her. The gurney was being pushed down a long hallway.

  She tried to speak, but her words came out in a kind of whispered croak.

  “Don’t try to talk,” a man advised behind her. The sound of his voice sent terror spiraling through Taylor again. She recognized that voice. “You don’t want to strain yourself.”

  Taylor lifted her head slightly. In front of her, elevator doors slid open, and she was pushed inside. Another doctor—also dressed in scrubs and mask—entered the car. A bell sounded as a floor was pushed, and the doors slid closed again.

  Taylor felt detached, surreal. This couldn’t be happening. She lifted her head again to gaze around and saw that both doctors were staring down at her. Green eyes and gray eyes. A woman and a man.

  Slowly the man with the gray eyes reached up to take off his mask.

  “You’re a fighter,” Sergeant Jackson said with admiration. “I’ll give you that. I still owe you for a cracked rib you gave me that night in the boiler room.”

  “Why?” Taylor managed to whisper.

  He shrugged. “Let her tell you.”

  “Fool,” the woman rasped. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Why?” Jackson asked. “In a few minutes, it’ll all be over, anyway.”

  The woman jerked at her mask, and Taylor gasped. Dr. Forster gazed down at her with those cold, green eyes. “Yes,” she said. “In a few minutes, it will all be over. Finally.” She took out a needle and a small vial and carefully filled the syringe.

  Taylor was beyond terror now. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sergeant Jackson and Dr. Forster were going to kill her? But why? Why?

  “Yes,” Dr. Forster continued as she laid the syringe on the gurney. She fished in her pocket again and this time withdrew a pistol with a silencer attached. She leveled it at Jackson. “In a few minutes it will all be over and no one will ever know.” Then she pulled the trigger.

  “What the hell—” Jackson looked down in disbelief at the red circle forming above his heart. Slowly his gaze lifted. “You said…you loved me…” he gasped.

  “And you were stupid enough to believe it,” Dr. Forster said. The weapon spit again and another circle of red appeared on his coat. This time he said nothing. His eyes rolled back as he silently crumpled to the floor.

  “Fool.” Dr. Forster gazed down at Jackson in disgust. Then she shifted her gaze to Taylor. “And now it’s your turn. I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  Taylor shook her head. “Why?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you’ve gotten too close to the truth,” Dr. Forster said angrily. “You and that police detective. You just wouldn’t leave things alone, would you? Brad was the one who stole your baby, you fool. All those years you were married to him, sharing his bed, he was the one.”

  Taylor closed her eyes. Voices inside her head were screaming to be heard. “We’ve covered our tracks. The records have all been changed. Who’s going to tell? Doris? She’s got what she wants. Lara? Bought and paid for. That leaves you and me, babe…”

  It was Brad’s voice she’d heard as she was coming out of the anesthesia. Taylor had thought she’d been dreaming. When she’d opened her eyes, his face had been swathed in concern and sympathy and grief.

  And it had all been a lie.

  Tears streamed down Taylor’s face.

  “He couldn’t stand the thought of raising Dillon Reeves’s child, you see. He thought if he could get rid of the baby, all your ties to Dillon would be severed. He thought you would love him. But you can’t make someone love you,” Dr. Forster said bitterly. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”

  “You…helped him?”

  “I was in love with him. I thought I could make him love me if I helped him. I was the doctor who delivered your baby that night. It wasn’t Dr. Westcott as you’ve always thought. There were five people in that delivery room. You, me, Brad, Lara Mendoza and Doris Rafferty. I just told you Brad’s reasons. Lara wanted money. And Doris wanted the baby. Her daughter had just given birth to a stillborn baby. Doris was beside herself with grief, and half-crazy with worry that her daughter wouldn’t be able to handle what had happened. So she decided to give her daughter your baby.”

  “You mean Doris’s grandson—”

  “Is your son.”

  Taylor couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Nicholas Baker was her son. Hers and Dillon’s.

  “Unfortunately, Brad couldn’t live with what he’d done,” Dr. Forster w
as saying. “His conscience got the better of him, and he wanted to tell you the truth. I couldn’t let that happen. I have my own career to think about. In another five years, I’ll be the chief of staff here. Do you have any idea what that means?” She smiled dreamily. “Money, power, prestige. It’ll all be mine.”

  “Did you kill Lara Mendoza?” Taylor whispered.

  She nodded, eager now to share her story. “After Brad’s death, Lara got scared. Even the promise of more money wouldn’t calm her down. So now Brad and Lara are both dead. Doris will be by morning. That just leaves you, Mrs. Robinson.” She circled around the gurney so Taylor could see the loathing in her eyes.

  Taylor gazed up at her, her fear momentarily replaced by her anger. “You’re insane,” she said. “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “I’ve already gotten away with it. Everyone thinks Brad committed suicide. Lara Mendoza is just another statistic, and Doris, well, poor Doris had a coronary. Nothing suspicious there.”

  “You did that to her.” Taylor gasped.

  “There’s no proof, and luckily, you won’t be around to stir up any more trouble for me.”

  Taylor looked around, frantic for something to use as a weapon. The only thing she could think of was the syringe Dr. Forster had placed on the gurney. She eased her fingers toward her.

  The elevator doors slid open and Dr. Forster glanced out. As she turned away, Taylor grabbed the syringe and plunged the needle into Dr. Forster’s back. Dr. Forster gasped and dropped the gun. It skittered across the elevator floor, out of Taylor’s reach.

  Dr. Forster was on her knees, clutching at her back, trying to reach the syringe to pull it out. Taylor didn’t waste time struggling with her for the gun. Instead, she jumped up from the gurney and dashed out the elevator doors.

  The whir of machinery rumbled around her. They were in the power plant, deep in the bowels of the hospital. The sound of the powerful turbine was deafening. Dr. Forster had chosen wisely. No one would hear Taylor scream down here, and no one would think to look for her down here.

  Fighting her panic, Taylor ran across the concrete floor, casting about for a way out. A bullet ricocheted off a metal pipe over her head, and she screamed and ducked. She flattened herself against a massive concrete pillar, then risked a glance back toward the elevators.

  Dr. Forster stumbled toward her, clutching the gun in her right hand. When she saw Taylor, she fired again. The bullet missed by inches but chips of concrete peppered Taylor’s face.

  To her right, half-hidden by a steel wall was a set of metal steps that rose at least thirty feet to a metal catwalk that crisscrossed over the power plant.

  Taylor lunged toward the stairs and another bullet sounded. She didn’t take time to look back. She clattered up the stairs, disregarding the pain in her left wrist as she used her hands to help propel her upward.

  She was halfway up when she sensed more than felt Dr. Forster’s presence behind her. She looked down. The woman was on the steps. She took aim, and as the breath backed up in Taylor’s lungs, Dr. Forster pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  With a cry of dismay, Dr. Forster tossed the weapon aside. She turned her gaze back to Taylor, her eyes even harder, deadlier, as she started up the stairs.

  Taylor was still dizzy from the drugs she’d been given. The higher she climbed, the more the vertigo claimed her. She stood at the top of the stairs, unsure which way to go. The catwalk ran in several directions, crisscrossing over the giant turbine. On the other side was a wall and a door with a red glowing exit sign.

  Taylor headed toward it. The rumble of the turbine thirty feet below vibrated the metal beneath her feet. She could feel the shimmy all the way through her as she started across.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Dr. Forster had followed her onto the catwalk. The woman lunged at her. Taylor tried to run, but the vibration of the catwalk, coupled with her vertigo, made everything swim before her. Her hands whipped out in front of her, trying to steady her balance, but it was too late. Dr. Forster was upon her.

  The momentum of her body crashing into Taylor’s sent them both flying backward. Taylor landed on the metal catwalk, and then, horrifyingly, she felt herself slip over the side.

  She lashed out blindly for a handhold. Her right hand gripped the edge of the metal catwalk and clung for dear life. Grunting with pain, she brought her left hand up to cling precariously to the edge. Red-hot pain shot through her broken wrist and up her arm, all the way to the socket. Half-blinded by fear and pain, she glanced downward to the giant machinery. She couldn’t see it so much as she could hear it, feel it. The reverberation pounded at her heart like a jackhammer.

  Above her Dr. Forster was getting to her feet. Her auburn hair had come loose and flowed around her shoulders like a crimson halo as she stood gazing down at Taylor.

  “It was always you!” she screamed. “I did everything for him, but it was always you he wanted! Well, now he can have you!” She lifted her foot, then brought it down ever so slowly to grind against Taylor’s right hand.

  Taylor screamed in pain. Her fingers, crushed beneath Dr. Forster’s heel, slipped from the metal and Taylor was left hanging by her left hand.

  The broken wrist screamed in protest. Sick with dizziness and pain, Taylor tried to hold on, but it was no use. Her hand was too weak. Slowly her fingers began to slip from the metal.

  “Taylor! Hang on!”

  She heard Dillon calling her through the haze of darkness that had already begun to descend over her. As Dillon emerged from the stairway onto the catwalk, Dr. Forster turned and ran toward the exit.

  “Just hang on,” Dillon said from above her. He was on his knees, reaching for her.

  “I can’t,” Taylor whispered. “I can’t—”

  Her fingers slid over the edge just as Dillon’s hand fastened around the cast. She screamed in agony, but within moments, he’d hauled her up onto the catwalk and was cradling her in his arms.

  “How did you find me?” Taylor said, burying her face in his shoulder.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s just get you out of here.”

  “Oh, Dillon, you were so right,” she said. “You were right about everything. I’ve been so selfish—”

  “Taylor, hush,” he said. “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “Nicholas is our son,” she told him. “But you were right. We can’t take him away from Doris. I saw how much he loved her. And I promised him I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or his grandmother—”

  “Taylor, I know about Nicholas. Doris regained consciousness and confessed to everything. I have it all on tape. Now just relax and let me get you out of here.”

  Taylor started to close her eyes and do as she was told, but something flashed behind Dillon’s shoulder. Her eyes widened in horror as the shadow came into focus.

  “Dillon, look out!”

  Dr. Forster, a metal rod lifted over her head, came rushing across the catwalk toward them. Dillon whirled, crouching for the blow, but it never came. Over the roar of the turbine, a shot rang out. Then another. The rod dropped from Dr. Forster’s hand. As if in slow motion she tumbled over the side of the catwalk, into the jaws of the machinery thirty feet below.

  As Taylor staggered to her feet, supported by Dillon, they gazed over the side of the catwalk. Sergeant Jackson, leaning against a concrete pillar for support, slowly lowered his weapon.

  TAYLOR WAS BACK in the emergency room at the hospital and the same young, freckled-faced resident who had set her wrist before was now removing the cast with an electrical cast saw. Dillon stood watching nearby. In spite of the doctor’s protests, he’d refused to budge.

  After the cast was removed, the terrible pressure and some of the pain began to ease. But the heaviness around Taylor’s heart didn’t lighten.

  The doctor finished his work, and she lay back against the pillows. Dillon came to stand beside her. Her eyes fluttered opened and she stared up
at him.

  “Dillon—”

  “You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t feel like it.”

  She shook her head. “No, I have to say this, while I still have the courage.” She paused then said, “Tonight, when I found out that Nicholas is our son, my first instinct was to run to him as fast as I could. To hold him in my arms and tell him that I’m his mother. That’s what I wanted. I wanted it more than anything…”

  “I know.”

  “But I keep thinking about that story from the Bible, the one about the two women who both claimed the same child. The real mother loved him enough to give him up, and that’s what I have to do. I can’t tear that child apart, Dillon. Doris is the only family he’s ever known. I can’t take him away from her, no matter how much it hurts to let him go.”

  Dillon took Taylor’s right hand in his. The fingers were swollen and sore from Dr. Forster’s heel, but none of them were broken. “Taylor, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Oh, no, Taylor thought. This is it. It’s all over. He’s leaving…

  “Doris Rafferty died tonight. Nicholas has no other family. He’s going to need us. Both of us.”

  “But—”

  He brought her battered fingers to his lips. “Later,” he said. “You need to rest now. I’ve got a lot more to say to you, but it’ll have to wait. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Just tell me one thing,” Taylor whispered.

  He gazed down at her.

  “Do you love me, Dillon?”

  “Until the day I die,” he said simply.

  TAYLOR OPENED HER EYES and gazed around. “Dillon?”

  “He’ll be back,” Miranda said as she crossed the room to stand beside Taylor’s bed. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t gone far.”

  There was no bitterness in her voice, which surprised Taylor.

  Miranda reached down and smoothed back Taylor’s hair. “I was wrong about him. I was so wrong about so many things.”