The Baby Snatchers

by Chris Taylor

  “You’re kiddin’ me!” Wes responded. “You mean we ain’t even halfway through?”

  “It’s a little hard to tell,” Georgie said calmly. “Everybody’s different. But if I had to guess, I’d say Sandra is about halfway there. But you’re doing fine, honey.” Georgie smiled her encouragement, directing her comment to the patient.

  “No one told me it’d hurt so much.” The woman gasped around another contraction.

  “I can arrange for an epidural, if you like,” Georgie offered. “It will take away the pain.”

  Wes nodded enthusiastically, but Sandra looked less convinced. “I’ve been clean for three months, now. I don’t want no more drugs.”

  “But, Sandy, this is a hospital drug. It’s different and you won’t feel no pain,” Wes said with a hint of urgency.

  Sandra’s jaw set in a stubborn line and once again, she shook her head. “No more drugs, Wes. I made a promise to our baby.”

  Wes made a sound of impatience and scrubbed a dirty hand through his lank and greasy hair. “You’re bein’ stupid, Sandy. Take the fuckin’ drugs! It’s not like you’re gonna get addicted. These ones are comin’ from the doctor.”

  Georgie stepped forward and intervened. “It’s all right, Wes. She’s doing great on her own. If she doesn’t want the epidural, that’s fine. There are other things we can use—hot cloths on her back and massage are other great pain relievers.” Georgie directed her attention to her patient. “Would you like Wes to rub your back, Sandra?”

  “Yes, please.” The girl moaned and turned further onto her side.

  Wes looked even more uncertain, but placed his hands on Sandra’s back. With awkward movements, he did his best to attempt a massage.

  “Lower, Wes.” Sandra gasped. “You need to move lower.”

  “Fuck, Sandy, I don’t know what to do! I’ve never given anyone a fuckin’ massage! What do you expect me to do?”

  Sandra responded with another moan that escalated in volume and depth for the length of the contraction. When it was over, she gasped in relief.

  “Big, slow breaths, Sandra,” Georgie murmured. “Just like we talked about. You’re doing great. Take it one contraction at a time.”

  The girl relaxed and Georgie moved closer to the monitor and checked that the readings were satisfactory. Her thoughts wandered to Cynthia, who was only a few years younger than Sandra, and then, of course, they landed on Cameron.

  She was disappointed she’d missed his call the previous night, but he’d phoned after she’d gone to bed. Still, she was filled with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again, even if she’d be spending most of the time in the company of his sister. As soon as her shift was over, she intended to hit the shops in search of a dress that would be sure to capture his attention. She had no idea if he could become romantically interested in her, but she intended to give it her best shot.

  “Ow! Ow! It hurts, nurse! It hurts!”

  Sandra’s distressed cries broke into Georgie’s musings and she once again focused her attention on her patient. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she swallowed a sigh and returned to the job at hand.

  * * *

  Cameron reached for the phone that sat on his desk and dialed the number of the Sydney Harbour Hospital. As agreed, Deborah Healy had sent over the hospital file belonging to Danielle Jamison and he’d spent the afternoon going over it. The information seemed straightforward. The girl had presented to the hospital with her parents by her side. She was already in labor and at 1500 hours, after an uneventful delivery, her baby boy was born. He noted the use of twenty-four hour time. Like the military and the police service, its use was common practice in hospitals. Reading further, his heart had skipped a beat when he discovered the midwife who delivered the child was Georgie Whitely.

  The birth report noted that routine tests were carried out by the midwife and the findings fell within normal limits. The patient and her baby were returned to the ward within the hour. They’d been left in the company of the new mother’s parents.

  The information was matter-of-fact and straightforward and gave no indication of the tragedy that was to come. Less than twelve hours later, the night nurse would discover the child had died. Flipping over a few more pages, Cam found the relevant report. It had been written by the Nursing Unit Manager. Printed underneath the signature in a small neat script was the name Marjorie Whitely (NUM).

  He frowned. Marjorie Whitely. Could the woman be Georgie’s relative? Perhaps her sister? Or even her mother? With no way of knowing Marjorie’s age, any possibility could only be a guess. Then, of course, there was the possibility that the woman wasn’t related at all. He wrote down the name on his notepad. Just another thing he’d ask the general manager.

  A copy of the preliminary death certificate was attached to the file. The stated cause of death was SIDS. The certificate had been signed by a Doctor Frederick Rolleston and was time-stamped and dated just under a fortnight after Cynthia’s delivery. It confirmed that two babies had died from SIDS less than a two weeks apart. Surely that was unusual? He needed to find out.

  His call connected and he waited for Deborah Healy to answer. It was picked up by her assistant and he quickly identified himself and asked if he could speak with the general manager.

  “I’m sorry, Detective. She’s on another call. Can I take a message and have her phone you back?”

  Cam swallowed his impatience. After leaving his contact details, he ended the call and then returned to Danielle’s notes. A few minutes later, the phone at his elbow rang and he snatched up the receiver. “Detective Sergeant Dawson. Can I help you?”

  “Detective, it’s Deborah Healy. I’m returning your call.”

  “Ms Healy. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. What can I do for you?” The general manager’s tone was all business.

  “I’ve been looking over the file you sent over. The one belonging to Danielle Jamison. I was wondering if you could tell me how many babies die at your hospital each year.”

  “Thankfully, not many, Detective. We pride ourselves on the quality of our service. It’s very sad about what happened to poor Danielle Jamison’s baby. Thank goodness it doesn’t happen very often.”

  “How often?”

  “Danielle Jamison’s baby was only the second baby to die at this hospital in the past twelve months for sudden and unexplainable reasons. The other infant passed away more than nine months ago.”

  Cam frowned. “I’m afraid that’s not correct, Ms Healy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My niece died within hours of her birth a little over a fortnight ago. Your information isn’t right.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! It’s hospital policy that I be notified immediately of all deaths that occur in our establishment and the sudden death of an infant is no different. You must be mistaken about your niece. Perhaps you have us confused with one of the other city hospitals?”

  Cameron’s anger stirred. “I’m not mistaken, Ms Healy,” he replied coldly. “I collected my sister off Ward Seven the morning after her baby died. You need to check your sources. They’re obviously not keeping you up to date.”

  “I-I see. If you give me a moment, I’ll… I’ll check one of our databases,” the general manager replied shakily. “Perhaps I was away when it happened…”

  Cameron heard the sound of keys clicking on a keyboard. A moment later, Deborah spoke again. Cam heard the tension in her voice.

  “Ah, here we are. A list of all infant deaths in the hospital over the past year.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Cameron frowned.

  “Ms Healy? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I-I’m sorry. I was reading through the data. It’s… It’s a little lengthier than I expected.”

  Once again, Cameron swallowed his impatience. “How many?”

  “According to the latest reports, there were fifteen infant deaths over the past
twelve months.”

  “That’s more than one a month.”

  “Yes,” the general manager responded in a shaky voice. “There must be a glitch in our system. I’ve only been notified about two.”

  “Is it possible the information has been entered incorrectly? Duplicated, or something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so, but something has happened. I’ll need to speak with the head of obstetrics. Those statistics can’t be right.”

  A sudden sense of urgency made Cameron’s heart beat faster. “Get back to me as soon as possible. I need that information.”

  “O-of course.”

  “Two more things: First, what can you tell me about Georgina Whitely? She was the midwife who delivered Danielle Jamison’s baby. She was also present at the birth of my late niece.”

  “Georgie’s been with us for seven years. She’s an excellent nurse. She was the Nursing Unit Manager of our pediatrics ward until a couple of years ago. She decided to retrain as a midwife and transferred to Ward Seven. She’s been there ever since.”

  Cameron absorbed the information and made a note on his pad. “And what about Marjorie Whitely? Where does she fit in?”

  Deborah’s voice filled with pride. “Marjorie’s one of our finest, most experienced nurses. She’s been at this hospital nearly all of her working life. She’s delivered more babies than anyone. You won’t find yourself in better hands. She’s the Nursing Unit Manager of Ward Seven and Georgie Whitely’s mother.”

  Having guessed there might be a connection between the two women, Cameron nodded and wrote Georgie Whitely’s name next to Marjorie’s and drew a line between them. It was interesting that mother and daughter chose to work together. There were many people who would run in the opposite direction rather than share their workplace with a relative, Cam included. Georgie and her mother must be in that select group of family members who actually enjoyed working in close proximity.

  “Is there anything else, Detective?”

  The general manager’s sharp question distracted him from his thoughts. He gave her a hasty reply. “Not at this time, Ms Healy, but rest assured, if I have any more questions, I’ll be in touch.”

  The phone line disconnected in Cameron’s ear and he slowly replaced the receiver. Checking his email, he found a message from the switchboard operator informing him that Georgie had called while he’d been on the phone. She’d received his message and had made an appointment at the spa for her and his sister two days hence.

  He thought about coming face to face with the sexy nurse once again and his pulse leaped in response, even as his head dictated he proceed with caution. She might very well become a person of interest in his investigation. Besides that, he’d learned early that the people who were supposed to care for you above all others were often the same people who let you down.

  Over the decade since he’d left home, he’d guarded his emotions closely and his heart even closer. Though he’d dated casually, he’d taken care not to let any entanglement develop into a serious relationship. Life was so much easier that way.

  But with Georgie, things were different. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted to open up. For the first time in his adult life, he wanted to take a chance. It was risky and it could all end in a painful mess, but there was nothing he could do about it. Georgie’s name might have been linked to a couple of recent infant deaths, but even that wasn’t enough to deter him. Right now, all he could think about was seeing her again and where it might lead…

  * * *

  “Tammie! Wake up! It’s time to go.”

  Tammie Sinclair stirred on the gurney that doubled as a bed for the night staff. Blinking away sleep, she stared at her boss through the dimness.

  “Come on! Hurry! I need your help.” Without waiting for her response, the older woman turned away.

  Tammie struggled off the gurney and followed the other nurse into a storage room. A plastic crib stood in the middle of the confined space with a baby asleep inside. “Is it a boy or a girl?” she whispered.

  “A boy. Not that it matters.”

  Tammie came closer and stared down at the newborn. He was perfect in every way. She tamped down on an overwhelming surge of yearning and thought about Wendy. Maybe this time their invitro-fertilization attempt would be successful… She no longer dared to hope.

  “What do you need me to do?” she murmured.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Georgie tossed her handbag into one of the staff lockers and closed it. Tucking a loose strand of hair back into her tidy bun, she turned and surveyed her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She was about to begin her last shift before two rostered days’ off and she could hardly wait. The week had been a trying one with a full ward of desperate and needy mothers, but thankfully no more babies had been lost. The day stretched out in front of her and she began to count the minutes until it would end. The thought of two glorious days off work seemed like heaven, particularly when it meant she’d see Cameron again. A burst of excitement surged through her.

  She’d arranged an appointment at a day spa for early the next morning and had told Cameron she’d swing by his apartment at eight to collect his sister. She tried not to get her hopes up that he might still be there at that time of day, but even if he wasn’t, she still had to drop Cynthia home. One way or the other, Georgie was determined to make it clear to the hot detective she was interested—and if her efforts came to nothing, she’d move on.

  More and more she’d been feeling the pressure to find a special someone and settle down. She wanted marriage and babies and she wasn’t blind to the fact that the time was slowly, but surely, wearing down. The irony that the only child she might bear was the one she’d given away sent a surge of desperate pain rushing through her and she steadfastly forced her thoughts in another direction.

  “Georgina, may I see you for a moment?”

  Georgie spied her mother’s reflection in the bathroom mirror and turned to greet her with a smile. “Of course. Good morning, Marjorie.”

  Her mother smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They left the staff restroom and headed toward Marjorie’s office. Georgie glanced at her mother and took a moment to study the woman she’d loved and admired all her life, despite all that they’d been through. She noticed new age lines etched around the corners of her mother’s eyes. Fatigue shadowed their dark depths.

  Her mother worked too hard. It was as simple as that. Georgie didn’t know of any other NUM who worked weekends, and yet her mother often did. She also did night shifts in addition to her morning shifts and did it without a word of complaint. Georgie’s Aunt Rosemary worked similarly hard.

  When Georgie had asked her mother about it, once, Marjorie had replied that she and her sister had grown up in a time when work was scarce and jobs were highly valued. Going above and beyond what was expected was the norm for their generation. Besides, with chronic staff shortages in the hospital, it was imperative someone fill in when needed. Babies waited for no one and it wasn’t fair to the mother or the child if there were inadequate staff-to-patient ratios. So, sometimes her mother and aunt did double shifts, but they seemed to take it in stride.

  It was only recently that Georgie had noticed her mother’s hair had turned much grayer and her steps were less sprightly than they used to be. Georgie made a mental note to speak to her father about it. They were wealthy people; both of them had inherited sizeable estates from their parents. Although it was admirable that Marjorie wanted to be there for her patients, it wasn’t necessary for her to work herself into the ground. If she kept it up, she’d be the one looking for the hospital bed.

  Georgie chuckled at the thought of her mother as a patient. No doubt she’d make a terrible one.

  “What’s so funny?” Marjorie asked, throwing her a sideways look.

  Georgie walked through the open doorway of her mom’s office and took a seat opposite the crowded desk. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about how hard you and Aunt Ros
emary work and what would happen if you ended up as patients in this hospital.”

  Her mother looked horrified at the thought. “Don’t wish that on me, Georgina! I have far too much to do. Besides, who would want to look after me? I’d be the patient from hell!” Marjorie smiled and gave her a wink and Georgie laughed again.

  “Exactly!” she said.

  Her mom took her place in the chair that stood behind the desk and moved some of the papers out of her way. Her expression grew serious. Georgie frowned and all of a sudden, tension filled the air.

  “Wh-what is it, Marjorie?” She barely formed the question. Dread weighed heavy in her veins.

  Her mother sighed heavily and Georgie’s concern ratcheted up another notch. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. “Talk to me, Mom,” she pleaded. “What’s wrong? Is it Dad? Oh, God! Please don’t tell me something’s happened to Dad!”

  “No, Georgina, it’s nothing like that. Your dad’s fine. At least, he was when I said good-bye to him earlier.”

  “Then what? Is it Sasha? Or Clare? Or Montana?” she asked, referring to her adult siblings.

  “No. As far as I know, your sisters are all okay. It has nothing to do with our family. It’s… It’s something that happened here, at work.”

  Georgie’s eyebrows flew upwards in surprise, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved. If it was work related, she was sure she could handle whatever it was. Her family, now that would be a different matter.

  “What is it?” she asked in a calmer voice, her breath coming easier.

  Her mother looked up at her and shook her head sadly. “It’s about Sandra Briggs.”

  Georgie frowned. “Sandra? The young girl who gave birth yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid her baby didn’t make it through the night.”

  Georgie sat straighter in her chair. “You mean, he died?”

  Marjorie nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m sorry, Georgina.”

  Georgie shook her head in dismay, trying to come to terms with what her mother said. Sandra had given birth to a healthy baby boy less than fifteen hours earlier. How could he now be dead?