To Save His Baby

by Judi Lind

  The gorgeous Dr. Murphy might have a stubborn streak, but she’d never come up against someone as single-minded and hardheaded as he was when he made up his mind.

  Polishing off his beer, he set the mug solidly on the table. He leaned forward and intoned in his most severe agent-to-suspect manner, “You’re off the case, Doc. I don’t want to hear any arguments. That’s my final word on the subject.”

  Chapter Twelve

  An hour later they pulled into the parking lot at Parker Memorial.

  “Having the last word didn’t do me a helluva lot of good, did it?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Wait here while I go get a temporary parking permit for the Blazer. Then I’ll sneak you in through the WomanCare clinic so no one will know you’re here.”

  “Since when did you start giving the orders?”

  “Since you finally wised up and started listening to me.” She climbed out of the SUV and dashed across the asphalt lot. Planting a confident smile on her face, she strolled through the double glass doors into the front lobby.

  “Evening, Mabel. Any messages?”

  Mabel, a sprightly older woman, a volunteer who spent untold hours manning the information desk, looked up. “Oh, hi, Dr. Murphy. My goodness, what happened to you?”

  Valerie touched the swollen area just below her left eye. “A fender-bender on my way in this morning.”

  “Gracious! No one was badly hurt, I hope.”

  “Just my pride,” Val replied as she started toward the elevators.

  Mabel’s voice rose. “We didn’t expect you in at all this weekend. As a matter of fact I just told someone...” She thumbed through a jumble of message slips on her desk. “Now where did I put that note? It was right here a minute ago.”

  “Someone was asking for me?”

  “Yes, a call. I checked the schedule and told him you wouldn’t be back on duty until Monday.”

  “Him? Did one of my patients go into labor?”

  “I don’t think so. He didn’t have that panicky edge to his voice, if you know what I mean. No, this sounded more like one of the other doctors, although—I remember!”

  Val turned around and walked back toward the reception desk to retrieve the message. Mabel, however, wasn’t fumbling through her stack of pink slips. She was shaking her head in a rather befuddled manner.

  “What is it?” Val asked.

  “He wouldn’t give me his name, was quite rude about it. That’s why it stuck in my mind so.”

  Curious, Valerie leaned on the counter. Mabel had worked at Parker Memorial longer than anyone could recall, and she always took the most contentious of callers in her stride. Now, though, she seemed vaguely upset by the incident. “Do you remember what he said?”

  “Like it was branded in my brain. He asked me to page Valerie Murphy. Not Dr. Murphy, mind, but Valerie, like he knew you. So I checked the schedule and told him you weren’t expected in until Monday and asked if I could take a message. That’s when he got testy.”

  “Testy?”

  “Yes. He said, ‘Listen to me, you gray-haired old crone, I didn’t ask you for a recitation of her movements. I merely asked that you page her. Immediately.”’

  “He actually called you an old crone?”

  “He did.” She puffed up indignantly. “Imagine the nerve. And he was dead wrong of course. Everyone knows a crone is skinny.” She laughed at her witticism.

  “What did you do then?” Valerie couldn’t imagine who among her friends and colleagues would be so disrespectful to the woman.

  “I paged you of course. I left the nasty fella on hold for a good five minutes before I got back on to tell him you hadn’t answered your page, but he’d already hung up.”

  “What time was that, do you remember?”

  Mabel cocked her head and studied the large clock over her desk. “About an hour ago, maybe a little longer. Say six or six-thirty. Visiting hours were just starting and things were kind of hectic.”

  “Well, I’m sorry he was so rude.”

  Mabel sniffed. “He was the worst of the week, that’s for sure. But don’t you worry. Dr. Murphy, it’d take a lot worse than that to ruffle these old feathers.”

  The two shared a chuckle at the vagaries of human nature, and Valerie once more headed toward the elevators. Before she fetched Gil, she wanted to make certain the Human Resources office was empty. It was housed in the left wing of the administrative floor, just a few doors from Martin Abel’s office. The carpeting was thicker up on “mahogany row,” masking her footsteps as she moved down the deserted corridor.

  It occurred to her that she’d rarely been to this sanctified floor during regular working hours. Babies had a peculiar habit of choosing the wee hours before dawn to make their entrance into the world, so the few hours she was in the hospital during the day were generally devoted to keeping the WomanCare clinic running.

  The murmur of voices from the hospital administrator’s office told her that Abel was working late, as usual. Otherwise the entire floor had an eerily empty feeling.

  Like the administrator’s office, the Human Resources Department had an anteroom outside with a desk for the secretary and a handful of hardback chairs upholstered in aqua corduroy. Stepping past the secretary’s desk, Valerie paused outside the Human Resources door. She was reaching into her pocket for her key card, when a sudden metallic noise made her jump.

  The door knob to the HR office was slowly turning.

  Acting from instinct more than fear, she dashed behind a huge rubber-tree plant that stood next to an institutional gray four-drawer filing cabinet.

  Heart thudding in her chest, Valerie watched as a dark figure eased the door open and peeped into the hallway. The stealthy motion raised her hackles. The furtive person obviously didn’t want to be seen.

  Holding her breath lest the faint movement of air give her away, Valerie watched as the intruder stole into the anteroom and paused a scant two feet from where she was crouched behind the planter.

  The person was so close she could hear the heavy exhalation of breath, smell the soft perfume that identified the interloper as a woman.

  Of course, one of the clerks must have worked late. Relieved and a little abashed at having jumped to such a sinister conclusion, Valerie almost stepped out from behind the rubber tree. Only the knowledge that she would frighten the poor clerk with her sudden appearance kept her hidden.

  At that moment the woman stepped out of the shadowy area into the dim light cast by the overhead fixtures in the corridor. Valerie’s hand flew to her mouth to stop the gasp of surprise and dismay that hovered there. Monica Giesen!

  What possible business could her assistant have in the personnel office hours after closing?

  She stayed behind the rubber tree another few moments before easing out. Stepping up to the door, she tried the handle. Locked. Hoping against hope that an authorized employee had stayed late to meet with Monica for some legitimate reason, Valerie tapped on the wooden panel.

  No answer.

  Using her key card, she entered the room.

  As she had feared, the department was deserted. Stepping farther into the fairly large room that held four desks, she decided to check the only other possibility. The interior door that led to the personnel manager’s office was closed.

  But her persistent knock wasn’t answered. So what was Monica Giesen doing here, alone, well after the staff had closed shop for the night?

  Then she remembered it was Saturday. Like most of the other administrative functions, the Human Resources Department only operated Monday through Friday. Monica would know that.

  Chagrined by the unpalatable possibilities that kept worrying her mind, Valerie decided to go back to the car and fetch Gil. Maybe he could offer an explanation that wouldn’t paint her trusted assistant with such a broad black insinuation.

  GIL DIDN’T HAVE any explanations to offer. At least none that would assume Monica Giesen’s innocence. Still, the woman could have been doing so
mething as blameless as turning in a late time card, so he decided to withhold judgment until they had more facts.

  Their own mission wasn’t nearly so virtuous.

  With full knowledge of the possible consequences, they were going to illegally enter a classified area of the hospital and snoop through confidential employee files. If they were caught, it would mean both their jobs and possibly criminal prosecution. Nor would any evidence they found be admissible in a court of law.

  This was a fool’s mission, he conceded, but his back was to the wall. Five babies had been stolen from their cribs. Five mothers lay awake nights, frightened and brokenhearted. These monsters had to be stopped before another infant disappeared. No matter the cost.

  “Ready?” he whispered.

  She held up her key card.

  Gil stood watch while Valerie slipped her card into the slot and punched in the numbered sequence. In seconds the green light blinked on and the door lock clicked open. They were in.

  “No!” he whispered urgently as she reached for the overhead-light switch. “Use a small one, on that desk.”

  He pulled a penlight from his hip pocket while Valerie turned on the small desk lamp. “Do you know where they keep the employee files?”

  She pointed to three matching filing cabinets, each secured with a long bar through the handles and fastened with a padlock. “Now what?”

  “Now we see if those lessons from Jimmy-the-Grip paid off.”

  “I don’t think I want to know.” She held up her hands in mock horror.

  “You don’t.” He extracted a set of stainless-steel lock picks. Holding the penlight between his teeth, he flicked through them, looking for the right size. “Jimmy’s currently a guest of the federal government for the next eight to fourteen years. He gave me a few...practical lessons and I spoke to the prosecutor. Otherwise he’d be doing life.”

  “Gives quid pro quo a whole new meaning.”

  He shrugged as he tried the second pick. “Far more common than you’d imagine. Bingo!”

  The padlock snapped open and he tugged out the iron bar holding the drawers closed. “Okay, who’s first on our list?”

  “B is for Bender. The ever-charming Dr. Carl Bender.”

  Gil opened the top drawer and rifled through the manila folders. “Banks, Beam, Bender. Here we go.”

  He carried the file to the desk where Valerie had switched on the small lamp. She was seated in the chair, and he dropped the folder in front of her and leaned over her shoulder.

  Bender’s personnel file was skimpy. Original job application form, letters of recommendation, copies of degrees and medical license, health-insurance questionnaires, W-2 form for payroll taxes, a computer printout showing vacation and sick leave taken and a single sheet of personal information. The data neatly typed on the form was also scant. Bender was single, originally from Omaha, Nebraska, hired just over a year earlier and was under the direct supervision of Valerie Murphy, MD.

  “He works for you?”

  She shrugged. “Only in the most general sense. At his level of training, he’s supposed to be receiving more responsibility. Making more decisions and diagnoses on his own. Once a week I go on rounds with him, and the entire staff has weekly meetings to rehash various cases. And, of course, any of the senior OBs, including myself, are on call to give him assistance.”

  He flipped the manila folder shut. “Not much here.”

  “I don’t know what you expected to find.”

  “Me, neither. Just hoping for a golden needle in the haystack.”

  Walking back to the filing cabinets, he asked, “Who’s next?”

  “Andrea Carter, RN.”

  One by one they went through the entire list: three physicians, two nurse-practitioners, four RNs, two orderlies and three clerical workers, who made up the staff of the WomanCare clinic. Also a few, such as Emily Pierce, who volunteered at the clinic.

  An hour later, his eyes burning with fatigue, Gil dropped the last folder onto the stack. “Nothing.”

  Valerie leaned back in the chair, clasped her hands in the air above her head and stretched. “I don’t know what you were looking for in the first place,” she said, yawning.

  “Anything out of the ordinary. A pattern of absences. A patient complaint, some minor infraction that might have nudged our antennae a little. Something. Anything.”

  “Martin Abel runs a pretty tight ship,” Valerie said. “Employees who might be accepted elsewhere, such as recovered alcoholics, aren’t tolerated around here.”

  “Old Marty’s a man of compassion, eh?”

  “It isn’t that. It’s just that he feels the stakes are too high. If a guy who used to have a drinking problem falls off the wagon even once, lives are put at risk.”

  “I see your point,” he said. “But where do we go from here?”

  He didn’t want to admit how much hope he’d been placing on gaining access to these records. Drawing up another hardback chair, he sat and laced his fingers behind his neck. “I feel so damned helpless. One of these people, maybe more than one, is involved. I know it. You know it.”

  “No! I don’t know it. The only reason I agreed to help you with this wild-goose chase is to prove once and for all that you’re wrong. None of these people would ever be involved in something as atrocious as this. I work with these people every day. I’d know if any of them were criminals.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. The Boston Strangler was a married man whose wife had no idea about his extramarital activities. Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents didn’t have a clue their son was a sicko. At least a dozen times a year we arrest someone, a child pornographer or drug dealer, and their co-workers and best friends are utterly shocked. If a criminal wore his guilt like a scarlet letter, then we wouldn’t have much need for a police force.”

  “All right, you’ve made your point.” She grimaced and rose to her feet. Grabbing a stack of folders, she stalked to the filing cabinets. “Let’s get these files put away before the janitor comes in and catches us with our pants down.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Interesting image, Doc.”

  He came up behind her and blew gently on the skin at the back of her neck. Pressing his lips there, he nuzzled until he felt her squirm beneath him.

  “Gil,” she whispered, her voice urgent, “I have to get these folders put away.”

  “Here, let me help you.” He flicked his tongue along the slender length of her neck and lifted his fingers to her shoulders. Slowly, almost lazily, he traced his fingertips down her bare arms until his hands encircled her wrists. Breathing hotly against her nape, he whispered, “Bender goes in the top drawer.”

  He leaned forward to “help” replace the folder, thrusting his hardened groin against the small of her back.

  “Stop it!” She giggled. “Someone might come in.”

  “How could anyone object to an employee so dedicated she comes in to do a little filing at night? Uh, Carter goes in the second drawer. You’ll have to bend over.”

  With another nervous titter, she bent slightly to replace the folder. Gil bent with her, grinding against her tantalizing fanny.

  With a small moan, she slammed the filing cabinet drawer shut. Leaning back, she rested the full length of her body against his. “You’re a rogue, you know that?”

  Twisting an errant lock of golden hair around his finger, he breathed in her ear. “That’s an awful thing to say, Doc. Just for that, you need to be punished.” Tilting his head to the hollow between her neck and shoulder, he nibbled gently.

  Valerie shivered in response and turned in his arms. Facing him now, her blue eyes dark with desire, she murmured, “It’s true.” She dipped her head forward and nipped his lower lip with her teeth. “You’re one of those twisted men who are turned on by danger, aren’t you, by the fear of exposure.”

  “You’re wrong, Doc. I’m turned on by you. Are you going to expose something?”


  “You’re crazy,” she breathed, and found his mouth with hers.

  Then reality returned and she pushed firmly against his chest. “Martin Abel’s already less than enchanted with me. If I was caught in flagrante delicto it could mean my job.”

  “That sounds like the medical term for mad-cow disease.” He made another lunge for that tender spot right behind her ear.

  She laughed, keeping him at arm’s length with her splayed fingertips. “It means getting caught with one’s panties down on someone else’s desk.”

  “Mmm. Kinky. I like it.”

  “Later, Gil. Right now help me get these records refiled.”

  Wanting nothing more than to get back to the motel and its huge cushy bed, Gil took the stack of manila folders from her hands. The image of the reward he’d receive at the end of his labors caused him to work at warp speed. Five minutes later he slammed the last padlock closed. “Turn out that lamp and let’s get outta here before I have my way with you on the photocopy machine.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Branton. Hanging out with you has—”

  She broke off at a noise from the outer room. Although the sound was small, muted, in the sudden silence it rang like a cathedral bell.

  “Quick! Someone’s coming,” he whispered. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her toward the nearest desk. Switching off the small lamp, he pulled Valerie with him and they hunkered in the desk well just as the door opened.

  Another soft click, a switch being thrown, and the room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Strong masculine footsteps marched across the room in a determined manner. A pause, then a loud clang reverberated just above their heads, sounding for all the world like a gunshot in an echo chamber. Valerie clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from shouting.

  Had they been discovered?

  A disconcerting thought occurred to her. She’d forgotten all about the closed-circuit television, a hospital security system. Hidden cameras peered down from the dropped ceilings throughout the hallways, elevators and other public spaces. But she’d never considered that the administrative offices might also be armed with the silent sentries.