by Chris Taylor
She could no longer concentrate on the many issues, large and small, that came before her every day. She fell behind in her work. Calls often went unanswered. But instead of taking time or walking away, she’d clung to her job and the sanity it offered, like a drowning person clings to their rescuer.
When the detective had first contacted her about his concerns regarding baby deaths on Ward Seven, she hadn’t given it serious thought. As far as she knew, there was nothing untoward about their statistics and until the premier had insisted on meeting with her about his daughter, she hadn’t been aware of any complaints.
But it quickly became clear something was wrong. She’d checked the data twice. Regardless of the fact the infant death rates on that ward were far too high, she should have been notified and she was almost certain that she hadn’t.
As promised, she’d quietly done her own investigation into the reasons why she hadn’t been told. She’d spoken to Marjorie Whitely and was secretly dismayed when the woman insisted she’d reported the deaths to her superior, who Marjorie believed in turn had passed them on. Deborah suddenly couldn’t prevent the awful thought that perhaps she had been notified and she hadn’t paid any attention.
Was it really possible for her to have received that many reports on infant deaths and not remember them? It had been a terrible year and she’d had so much on her mind. Could she have simply overlooked them? It terrified her to know that she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t.
And now she had to face the board and come up with answers to their questions—and she had no doubt there would be plenty of questions. It was obvious there was something dreadfully wrong on Ward Seven.
She’d wanted to head it off at the pass, before it became the explosive, media-grabbing issue she’d experienced in the past. It was why she’d called the detective and insisted he investigate. It was why she’d informed the board of his pending interviews.
If she had any hope of holding her job, she had to convince the board members she was still the one in charge and the one who still knew exactly what went on in the hospital she’d served for so long. The board might be dubious about her claims, but at least if she was upfront about the potential criminal investigation, they might see their way to being a little more lenient.
With one hand, she screwed the paper into a ball and tossed it toward the trash can that stood beside her desk. She needed a drink, but she was at work and nothing like that would be forthcoming. She hadn’t yet succumbed to the temptation of hiding a bottle of scotch in her bottom drawer.
No, she had to stand up and face the board, cold stone sober, and leave them feeling confident that she had a steady hand on the wheel. Drawing in a shaky breath, she smoothed back her hair, straightened her shoulders and headed back to her desk. It was time to get to work.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cam glanced across at the woman who sat across from him in the temporary interview room that had been made available by the general manager. She’d given her name as Tammie Sinclair and confirmed that she worked permanent night shifts as a nurse on Ward Seven.
While her short, spiky hairstyle did nothing to add to her femininity, the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks softened her face and made her appear younger than her stated thirty-six years.
He moved the pile of papers on the desk in front of him and she jumped, as if startled. The interview had started six minutes earlier and she hadn’t yet brought herself to look him in the eye. He was curious to discover the reason behind her nervousness.
He’d already interviewed most of the other nursing staff, including Marjorie Whitely. None of them had exhibited signs of agitation. The NUM had remained steely in his presence, answering questions with the briefest of replies. She’d been cooperative, but far from helpful. At one point, she’d asked if she was under arrest. Cam admitted that she wasn’t. A moment later, she brought the interview to an abrupt end.
But something was up with Tammie Sinclair and Cam was determined to find out what. He got straight to the point.
“There have been an unusually high number of babies die on your ward. What can you tell me about them?”
The woman squirmed in her chair. She looked at the floor; around the room and then stared down at her hands where they were clenched tightly in her lap.
Cam held his gaze steady. “Ms Sinclair? Did you hear what I said?”
“Y-yes, I heard you.”
“Fifteen newborns have died on your ward in the past twelve months. We haven’t even begun to look back any further. You were on duty when ten of the fifteen passed away. There must be something you can tell me.”
Do… Do I need a lawyer?”
Cam tensed and his heart skipped a beat a moment before adrenaline rushed through his veins. With his heart thumping, he answered her question with one of his own. “I don’t know. Do you?”
The nurse stared at him. He could almost see her mind turning over the possibilities, weighing her options. And then her shoulders slumped and she groaned aloud on a heavy sigh.
“I don’t know what’s going on in the ward, but something’s not right.”
Cam sat forward. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve worked as a midwife for ten years. I’ve never worked on a ward with an infant mortality rate so high.”
“What can you tell me about the babies who died in your care?”
Her eyes flashed. “I didn’t do anything! I swear! Yes, I was on duty those times, but I never had anything to do with their deaths. It was Rosemary who found them. I only found out about it afterwards. I… I didn’t even see them.”
“When you say Rosemary, you mean Rosemary Lawson, right?”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe that ten babies died on your shift and it was Rosemary who found them, every single time? That sounds a little too convenient.”
“It’s the truth!” Tammie protested, her freckles standing out in stark contrast to her ashen face.
“I find it hard to believe you worked the same shift as Rosemary and yet apparently you didn’t see anything. Where were you, Tammie?”
The woman lowered her eyes and a red flush crept up her neck. “I was… I was asleep.”
Cam frowned in astonishment. “Asleep? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Tammie’s embarrassment grew. “I’ve had some…difficulties at home. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been coming to work exhausted. Rosemary’s been kind enough to let me rest whenever we’re quiet.”
“So you mean to tell me you go to work and if the ward isn’t busy, you go off someplace and sleep. Is that correct?”
The nurse kept her gaze lowered to the desk, but nodded. Cam shook his head in disbelief and swore under his breath.
“Rosemary woke me to tell me when a baby was found dead. She always offered to be the one to inform the mother. I… I was relieved she was willing to take on that responsibility. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be.”
“And what about the babies? You said you never saw them. Did Rosemary take care of them, too?”
“It sounds farfetched, but yes, she did. She told me she’d already called the doctor who’d pronounced the baby dead and then arranged for the body to be transported to the morgue.”
“And all this went on while you were asleep? You must have slept away half a shift at a time!”
Tammie shrugged, but refused to look him in the face. “Sometimes I did.”
Cam shook his head again. “Unbelievable.”
“There was only one time I saw a baby,” Tammie said quietly and Cam stilled.
“I woke in the early hours of the morning and went looking for Rosemary. I couldn’t find her. And then I heard the sound of a baby crying. I remember thinking how strange it was.”
“You work on a post-natal ward. Why would the sound of a crying baby be strange?”
Tammie stared at him. Her blue eyes were huge and round. “You don’t understand, Detective. The baby�
�s cries were coming from behind the door of a storeroom. It’s a room where we keep old furniture, pillows and other odds and ends. There should never have been a baby in there.”
Cam stared back at her and once again, his heart began to pound. “Go on.”
“I… I opened the door, convinced I had to be wrong, but inside the storeroom was a baby in its crib, crying.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Cam frowned. “Nothing?”
“Rosemary came up behind me, startling me. When I questioned her about the infant, she brushed my concerns away. She told me it was Marie Fallow’s baby. He was suffering such acute withdrawals, she just couldn’t get him quiet. Rosemary had removed him to the storeroom so that his crying wouldn’t disturb the other patients and their babies.”
“Was that standard procedure?”
“No! I’d never heard of it being done.”
“Was the baby returned to his mother?”
“I assume so. Rosemary told me she’d deal with him and sent me on my way.”
Cam absorbed the information and scribbled down some notes. Rosemary Lawson had some explaining to do.
“That wasn’t the strangest thing, though, Detective.”
Cam looked up and frowned at the nurse. “No?”
“No. The strangest thing was when Rosemary told me it was Marie Fallow’s baby. I’d caught a glimpse of the little boy a moment before Rosemary arrived. He was wearing a blue-and-white knitted bonnet. I’d seen that bonnet on another baby earlier in my shift and it wasn’t on the head of Marie Fallow’s son.”
Cam stilled. Every nerve ending stood on end. “Who was the other baby?”
“The bonnet belonged to Danielle Jamison’s son.”
Cam swallowed a gasp and did his best to get his heart rate back under control. “Are you sure?” he managed.
“Yes. I overheard Danielle telling the patient in the bed next to her that her mother had knitted it especially. A gift for their first grandson.”
“When did this happen?” Cam demanded.
Tammie took her time in answering. Cam tried to contain his impatience. At last, she lifted her head and met his gaze. “It happened hours after she’d informed me that the Jamison baby had died.”
Cam closed his eyes against the rush of adrenaline that poured right through his veins. It was Rosemary Lawson. It had to be. What other reason did she have to lie about the baby’s identity? But he needed to find hard evidence. Right now, he had nothing but the tale of some strange behavior from a work colleague and a gut feeling that Rosemary was responsible. He needed more. It was a good thing she was next on his interview list.
* * *
Rosemary Lawson looked enough like Marjorie Whitely that it was obvious they were related. But that was where the similarities ended. Unlike her sister, Rosemary couldn’t be more obliging. Though younger than Marjorie by a couple of years, her face bore increased signs of aging. From the course of tight wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, Cam guessed she was a smoker and a sun worshipper—or had been in the past—but even those wrinkles didn’t take away from her charm.
She smiled at him and introduced herself with a firm handshake and immediately asked him about his day. She tut tutted over him like a kindly grandmother when he admitted he’d slept late and skipped breakfast. If he hadn’t already spoken to Tammie Sinclair, he might have found it difficult to believe she could be involved in anything evil, let alone the murder or abduction of newborns.
Then again, he had yet to find any hard evidence that pointed toward her guilt and he hadn’t been a detective for so many years without learning you couldn’t always believe what you heard. The fact was, Rosemary Lawson was the nurse on duty on almost all of the nights when the babies had met their death. Guilty or not, she was an important link in the chain and he would treat her accordingly.
“Thank you for seeing me, Ms Lawson. I appreciate you coming in early. I understand you’re rostered on night duty tonight?”
Rosemary smiled. “Yes, I do permanent nights, but when I heard why you wanted to see me, I was more than happy to give up a few hours’ sleep. Those poor, poor babies…” She shook her head slowly back and forth and tears glinted in her eyes. “I just wish there was something I could have done.”
Cam was surprised that she got straight to the point. “What can you tell me about them?”
She remained silent for a moment and then let out a heavy sigh. “There was nothing unusual about any of those babies. That’s why it’s so hard to accept. They were perfect little human beings, every one of them. There was no indication that they wouldn’t make it through the night. It just happened, without warning, without explanation.” She glanced up at him and then looked away. “It sounds hard to believe, but that’s the way it was.”
“You found them.”
“Yes.”
She answered without hesitation and without a sign of nervousness. Cam noted her response on the legal pad in front of him. So far, her evidence corresponded with Tammie Sinclair’s.
“There’s at least one other nurse on duty with you, isn’t there?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I believe a lot of the time it was a nurse by the name of Tammie Sinclair, is that right?”
“Yes, Tammie also works permanent nights.”
“I’m curious,” Cam said in a conversational tone. “How is it that you were the one to find the babies every single time?”
“Detective, I’ve been nursing all of my adult life. During the night shift, I’m the most experienced nurse on the ward. I probably shouldn’t, but I tend to let the younger ones rest while they can, particularly Tammie. She and her partner have had a rough time of it. They’ve gone through three failed IVF attempts. Tammie’s been on an emotional rollercoaster for the best part of a year. She often arrives at work exhausted, unable to sleep from the stress. I’ve tried to cut her some slack.”
“She’s trying to get pregnant?”
Rosemary grimaced. “Both of them are.”
Cam frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “She’s a lesbian. Her and her partner figured they’d double their chances if they both underwent the treatment. It’s why it’s cost them so much. They’ve spent all their savings. They have nothing left.”
Cam recalled Tammie making a reference to some difficulties on the home front. He guessed she’d been referring to this. Still, Rosemary allowing her colleague to sleep on the job seemed way too noble for anyone to contemplate, especially when it had been going on for so long. No one could be that kind hearted, could they?
Cam held her gaze. “That’s very kind of you to allow her to sleep while you’re overseeing the ward. Not everyone would be so generous, regardless of the circumstances. Are you sure there isn’t any other reason why you’re so charitable toward Tammie?”
“No, Detective. Believe it or not, some of us do good deeds for the sake of it and to help out another colleague. I don’t mind doing it for her in the slightest. Besides, you never know when we’re going to get busy. Babies are like that. They often come without warning. It’s best for the staff to rest when they can.” She paused. “I guess the odds were in my favor for being the one to find those infants. I was often the only one awake.”
Cam nodded and made another notation. Her explanation was supported by the statements given by the other night shift nurses he’d interviewed, including Tammie Sinclair. It was time to increase the pressure.
“Do you know how many babies have died on your ward in the past twelve months?”
“I’m not sure. A few.”
“More than a few. Try, fifteen. And out of those fifteen, twelve of them occurred during your shift.”
Rosemary looked surprise. “Wow, that’s a lot. I didn’t realize it was so high.”
“Tammie Sinclair also thought it was high. In fact, she’s of the opinion that there is something untoward about all those d
eaths. What do you think?” Cam stared at her.
Rosemary frowned. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I interviewed Tammie a little earlier. She told me about a baby she found in a storeroom. You identified the baby as belonging to a certain patient, but Tammie’s adamant the infant’s mother was somebody else—a baby who she’d been told by you had already died. What do you say to that?”
Rosemary stared back at him and slowly shook her head. “Poor, poor Tammie. I had no idea her mental health had deteriorated to such an extent. She’s obviously delusional. Why would I have a newborn in a storage room? And one that was apparently already dead. The very idea is ludicrous.”
“Are you saying Tammie was lying?”
“I’m saying she’s mistaken.”
Cam held her gaze. “It isn’t true?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Why would she say something like that?”
“I don’t know, Detective. I’m guessing she’s sicker than I thought.”
“Why hasn’t she been relieved of her duties?”
Rosemary sighed. “I feel sorry for her. She needs the money. She’s exhausted her sick leave and holiday entitlements with the IVF treatments. If she takes any more time off, it will be without pay.”
Cam absorbed the information. So, Tammie Sinclair needed money. It was strong motive to sell babies on the black market, if that was what was happening. He made another note on the legal pad.
“My sister’s baby died on your shift nearly three weeks ago,” he said, changing tack.
Rosemary gasped, looking genuinely distraught. She lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry!”
Cam compressed his lips and nodded, silently accepting her condolences. “It’s been tough, especially for my sister. She was given a business card by one of the nurses after her baby had died. It was a card that had the contact details of the Peaceful Passing Funeral Parlor and Crematorium. What can you tell me about it?”
“Oh, those. That’s my boss’ idea.”
“You mean Marjorie Whitely. Your sister, right?”