The Baby Snatchers

by Chris Taylor

  Custom made, dark leather couches with a matching coffee table and corner stands filled a good portion of the living room. The hand knotted, charcoal, cream and red contemporary rug provided a splash of bright color and added to the luxury of the room. Her large, flat screen TV was centered on the brick wall above the fireplace and was perfectly positioned for her to indulge her passion of watching reruns of her favorite comedy shows, even from the kitchen. She was currently satisfying a Seinfeld fix.

  Dumping the grocery bags onto the countertop, she quickly unpacked them and then headed straight for the small bar that stood perched in the far corner of the room. Scooping up ice from the inbuilt ice machine, she filled a glass and then added a healthy dash of vodka. A slice of lime kept fresh in the bar fridge was added to the drink. With a sigh of contentment, she headed to the couch.

  Sinking into its smooth leather comfort, she sighed softly again and took a sip from her drink. The day had been long and trying, with a difficult lineup of patients. The only bright moment in her day was when Cameron Dawson had called. She smiled at the memory.

  She still hadn’t heard from him about her proposal to spend some time with his sister, but he’d told her he was at work and would get back to her. Police officers usually did twelve-hour shifts. Depending on where he lived, he probably wouldn’t be home before seven and then he had to speak with Cynthia before he’d try to reach her.

  Georgie thought of the sexy, broad-shouldered policeman and couldn’t help the skip in her pulse. Not only was he good-looking, but it was also apparent he had a soft heart. He hadn’t seen his sister since she was a young child and yet he’d taken her in without question and was doing the best he could to see to her needs. It made Georgie feel all warm and gooey inside to know how generous and loving he was. She could think of a number of men who would have done things differently.

  All of a sudden, she imagined having someone like Cameron as her boyfriend; a man who wasn’t afraid of tender emotion or of exposing his heart. Okay, the girl in question was his sister and she’d been having a tough time of it, but no one had forced him to claim her and take her under his protection with a promise to do all he could to help.

  Georgie knew only too well a man like Cameron Dawson didn’t come along very often. Her disastrous, short-lived affair with Jason had ended in an unplanned teenage pregnancy. Though she didn’t doubt for a second he’d loved her, the pressure of impending fatherhood coupled with the mountain of disapproval from her parents, had sent him running. She didn’t blame him. She’d wanted to run, too.

  In the years since, she’d dated casually on and off. Her mother disapproved of the fact men came and went, in and out of her life with monotonous regularity, but for Georgie, anything more serious required a commitment and an honesty she wasn’t ready to give.

  It was only recently that she’d begun to feel the need to seek out a partner she could connect with on more than a superficial level. In the dark of night, when she’d lie awake tortured with thoughts of her son, she yearned to have someone special to share her heartache and to understand; to hold her close, to reassure her; to love her.

  It was the reason why Cameron kept returning to her thoughts, time and time again. Men with his endearing mix of honesty, caring and compassion were rare. To add to his appeal, he was one of the sexiest men she’d ever met.

  Her parents would frown on the fact he was a police officer. With her father a respected obstetrician and her mother a Nursing Unit Manager (or NUM as they were known to the hospital staff), they had high hopes for their daughters and the men they would eventually marry. Lawyers, doctors and company CEOs were the kinds of men they preferred for their daughters, but the attitude of her parents was the last thing Georgie cared about. It wasn’t like they’d cut off her trust fund.

  One thing her mother had promised her when she was doing her best to convince Georgie to sign the adoption papers was that they’d ensure she was always provided for and their high expectations for their offspring were because they loved their girls more than anything else. Georgie was confident if a police officer made her happy, they’d eventually accept and embrace him into their fold.

  She shook her head ruefully at the thought and took another sip of her drink. Here she was, daydreaming about calling Cameron Dawson her own, and apart from his appreciative glance at their first meeting, he hadn’t given her the slightest hint he was interested.

  Okay, so he’d called her for advice about his sister, but Georgie was familiar with the whole sad situation and had connected with the girl. It wasn’t surprising that he’d reached out to her for help, on a professional level. The key to moving things forward, if they were to move forward at all, would be to make him see her in a different light. Not as the midwife who’d cared for Cynthia, but as an interesting, intelligent and desirable woman…and maybe even a potential girlfriend.

  Her mind raced through various scenarios where she could draw his attention to her assets and she couldn’t help but smile. The first thing to do was to buy the right dress. After that, she’d look for some killer heels. Her smile widened in anticipation. She’d hit the shops tomorrow, right after she finished work. If there was one thing in the world she did enjoy, it was shopping.

  * * *

  Cam shook some oyster sauce into the stir-fry that was cooking on the stove and glanced across at his sister. They’d been talking quietly for the past hour and had now lapsed into a companionable silence. It was the most conversation they’d shared since she’d arrived and it gave him hope that she might finally be getting on top of her debilitating grief.

  Earlier, he’d arrived home to find her in her usual state of solitude. The blinds and curtains in her bedroom were drawn against what had been another beautiful late fall day. He’d hesitated about intruding upon her voluntary isolation, but then thought of Georgie’s offer and knocked firmly on the half open door.

  Cynthia didn’t respond to his knock or his quiet greeting and a moment later, he ventured inside the room. It was dank and musty and the air was stale. The smell of body odor reached him. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her in the shower and he had yet to see her in any of the new clothes he’d purchased for her the day after she’d moved in.

  A flash of irritation coursed through him. She was living with him, in a very nice apartment, not out on the street. It was time they got a few things straight. At the very least, she was going to abide by some rules relating to basic personal hygiene.

  There had been a few tears and a bit of shouting, but she finally conceded he was right. She’d been living like her life was over and it was time to remember she was still alive. Not only alive, but young and healthy, with her whole future in front of her. Cam was willing to help in any way he could, starting with re-enrolling her in school.

  She’d looked horrified at the thought until he assured her he’d enrol her in a TAFE college. Among other things, these colleges catered to a number of students who, for one reason or another, had been unable to complete their schooling on the traditional timeline. He promised they’d talk about it further, after he’d made some enquires and then he mentioned Georgie’s offer.

  It was then his sister gave him her first real smile and he’d sent up silent thanks. He wanted to call Georgie right away, but decided to wait until he could speak to her in private. He’d told her he’d call her that night and he would—after Cynthia had gone to sleep.

  Now, he reached for two plates and loaded them with food, enjoying the spicy aroma that wafted toward him. Setting one plate in front of Cynthia, he took a seat opposite. She’d recently showered and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked with her clean blond hair shining softly under the overhead light. The fact that she looked even younger than her sixteen years pulled at his heartstrings.

  She’d been through so much in her short life. More than she ever should have had to face. But it was over now and he hoped she could put it behind her and get on with living h
er life. He thought of Danielle Jamison and was once again grateful that his little sister hadn’t gone down that path. Drugs were an altogether different beast and one he was glad they didn’t have to fight.

  “I was wondering if I could talk to you about what happened at the hospital?” he asked quietly, his thoughts still on the premier’s daughter.

  Her gaze flew to his and her fork paused on its way to her mouth. Alarm flashed in her eyes. A moment later, she shrugged and put the fork to her mouth, but lowered her gaze to her plate.

  He kept his tone gentle. “This is probably the last thing you want to talk about, honey, but I’d like to know what happened. I came in right at the very end and I feel like most of the story’s missing. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear what happened the night you gave birth to your baby and then…afterwards.”

  Cynthia was silent for so long, he was sure she wasn’t going to answer. He forked more stir-fry into his mouth and almost missed her whispered reply.

  “Her name was Josephine.”

  “Of course,” he said quickly, relieved she’d responded. It could help with Danielle’s investigation if he heard about his sister’s experience. After all, there were many similarities and he wasn’t yet prepared to dismiss them. “Tell me about little Josephine,” he added and reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’d really like to know.”

  Cynthia began quietly and hesitantly, but gradually her voice picked up strength. She talked about the tiny baby she’d had for such a short time and Cam couldn’t help but tear up. Knowing he never got to meet his young niece saddened him beyond words. He couldn’t imagine how his sister felt—she who had carried the little girl inside her for so long.

  “She had so much dark hair, just like Albert,” Cynthia murmured with a sad smile. “And the cutest little rosebud lips. She was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen.”

  “Did any of the staff give you any indication there was something wrong?”

  She shook her head, looking mystified. “No, that’s why it came as such a shock when the nurse came in early the next morning to tell me Josephine had…died. I had no idea she’d been born with problems.”

  Cam squeezed her hand again. “From what Georgie told me, she was born perfectly healthy. They’ve put her death down to SIDS. Sometimes terrible things like that happen and nobody can explain why. It makes it so much harder to deal with, but it’s just the way it is.”

  Cynthia nodded sadly. “Yeah, that’s what Ava says.”

  Cam lifted his eyebrow in question and then remembered Ava Wolfe was the psychiatrist his sister was seeing. “Who told you Josephine had passed away?” he asked gently.

  “I don’t know her name. She was an older woman, a nurse, but I think she was the one in charge. I heard her giving some of the other nurses orders.”

  Cam nodded. If necessary, he’d be able to get a copy of the staff rosters which would tell him who had been on duty over the relevant time. “What did she say to you?” he asked.

  “I can’t remember the exact words. Everything from that day’s a bit of a blur. She said something about finding Josephine in her crib and discovering she was no longer breathing. I… I started screaming at her. I needed to know my baby was all right. It was then that she shook her head and told me… She told me that she’d died.”

  Cynthia’s voice hitched. Tears filled her eyes and ran slowly down her cheeks. Cam’s heart clenched with pain and he wished he could make things easier, but the truth was, he needed to know. “Did you get to see Josephine again?”

  His sister shook her head. “No. When I asked if I could, the nurse told me it wouldn’t be wise. Apparently, by the time they found her, Josephine had been…gone for a while. The nurse told me she…didn’t look so good. She urged me to remember my baby the way she’d been the night before—beautiful, tiny, perfect. She said it would be better that way.”

  Cam pressed his lips together, thankful that his sister had at least been spared the pain of seeing her baby cold and dark and still in death. If the baby had been deprived of oxygen for an extended length of time, she might even have turned black. It happened sometimes and it wasn’t pretty. The nurse had made the right decision.

  “I’m sure she was right,” Cam said, wanting to reassure his sister. “This way, your memories of the time you had with your beautiful baby remain perfect and untarnished for the rest of your life.”

  Cam picked up his fork again and resumed eating. He was relieved to see Cynthia do the same. It couldn’t be easy to dig up the painful memories from that day, but she seemed to be handling it, and for that, he was glad.

  “The same nurse gave me the card with the details of the crematorium. I took it from her, not knowing what else to do with it. I hadn’t even thought about disposing of…Josephine’s remains. The nurse must have seen something in my eyes because she reassured me the crematorium staff would know what to do. All I had to do was contact them and they’d look after my baby.”

  Cynthia looked up at him and gave a small shrug, her expression filled with sadness. “That’s about it. You found me not long after.”

  “You gave me the card and I called the crematorium. It was all done very quickly and efficiently. I must admit, it’s the first time I’d had to do something like that, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, either.”

  Cynthia nodded. “I was still in a daze, but I remember listening while you discussed the details with that man at the funeral parlor. We chose a tiny white casket with white and gold bows around the sides and a gold cross on the top.”

  Cam nodded and another wave of tears pricked the back of his eyes. “It was beautiful, honey. Just like your beautiful Josephine.”

  As Cam reached out to cup his sister’s cheek, she gasped aloud on a sob. Her face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.

  “I didn’t even get to take a photo of her!” she sobbed. “If only I’d had a phone! It didn’t even occur to me to ask one of the other patients. I’d only just given birth to this perfect, tiny person. I had no way of knowing it was the last time I was going to see her.”

  Her tears now fell in earnest and Cam’s heart broke at the sight of her pain. Pushing away from the table, he closed the distance between them and pulled her upright so he could hold her close. Her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his shirt.

  Her sobs were desolate and heartbreaking. She cried like she’d never stop. The tears Cam had tried so hard to hold back slowly ran down his cheeks. He tightened his arms around her and let her weep. When at last her sobs quieted, he pressed a gentle kiss against her hair.

  His little sister had been through so much and she still had her whole life to live. He couldn’t help but pray the toughest days were behind her and from that point on, she could begin to look ahead. Georgie had told him time was the greatest of healers and he knew she was right. He only hoped Cynthia would give herself the time she needed and learn to accept the inevitability of what had happened.

  It was a sad fact that SIDS sometimes happened and nobody could explain why. Even still, he couldn’t help the fresh wave of unease that had crept into his gut as he listened to Cynthia’s story. The similarities between her experience and Danielle’s were too many to be discounted. He was more curious than ever to discover just how many babies had died of SIDS at the Sydney Harbour Hospital.

  It was much later when Cam finally found a moment to call Georgie. He was disappointed, but not surprised, when his call went through to her voicemail. It was after eleven and she’d told him she was rostered on an early shift the next morning. He left a message, thanking her again for her kind offer and confirming Cynthia was looking forward to spending the day with her. He ended the call by asking her to call him back with the details. Tossing the phone on his bed, he sighed softly and headed for bed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dear Diary,

  Every once in a while, I stare down at yet another tiny scrap of squalling humanity and wonder if this baby woul
dn’t be better off with its birth mother. Then I listen to the torrent of abuse that spews forth from the mouth of that same mother who is coming off opiates or the loud snores that erupt from the one who’s sleeping off the enforced withdrawal from meth and I know that I made the right decision.

  So many babies born to so many unworthy and ungrateful women. It turns my stomach to watch them. They don’t deserve those babies. Most of them don’t want them and can’t conceive of what it takes to raise them. It’s all about their next fix, their next high and the wholly selfish pleasure that comes with it.

  It is the barren ones I feel sorry for. The women who yearn with quiet desperation to hold and love and nurture a baby of their own. It is for them that I do this. Them, and the children…

  * * *

  Georgie checked the monitor beside the woman’s bed and then adjusted the straps over her enlarged belly. They had slipped a little low and for a few moments, Georgie couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. A minute later, the monitor picked it up again, and she sighed quietly in relief. The labor had been progressing nicely and even though the woman had been at it for more than six hours, it was still early days.

  The patient was giving birth to her first child and first labors often went for at least twelve to fourteen hours. Some went a lot longer. Georgie had examined her twenty minutes earlier, and judging by the dilation of the cervix, they still had some time to go. Reaching for a washcloth, she dampened it under the faucet and then handed it to the girl’s partner who stood by her side near the bed.

  “Here, Wes. Use this on Sandra’s forehead. She’s perspiring and this will ease her distress.”

  The boy, who barely looked legal, took the cloth and stared at it a little uncertainly. Georgie nodded her encouragement and he swiped it hesitantly over his girlfriend’s face. The cool fabric seemed to calm her and she blew out her breath on a grateful sigh.

  “How much longer?” she rasped. Georgie told her.