The Stolen Breath

by L. G. Davis

  Closing my eyes, I strain to hear the entire conversation and not just scattered words.

  “Something came up and I need this place cleared before sunrise,” the woman says. “Extra care should be taken with the goods because they need to be delivered to their individual buyers in perfect condition.”

  “You have my word, ma’am. You can count on me. My men will be here within an hour.”

  “Perfect. I know you will deliver, Xavier. I trust you.”

  “And you’re paying me a lot of money to get the job done.” The man pauses. “What should we do with the problem?” he asks.

  “Do whatever is necessary to make it disappear.”

  After hearing their odd conversation, I’m positive that whatever they’re up to is dangerous or illegal, if not both. Most importantly, I could be in danger. I should have called the police before I even entered the building.

  I shove one of my clammy hands into my pocket and pull out my phone, but I can’t call the police yet, not when Xavier and the woman are close by.

  I wish they would just leave so I can have a look around and see if my baby is really in this place. But before I do, I will definitely call the police. I hold my breath when I hear their footsteps again. They’re discussing the weather now and laughing as they walk past the room where I’m hiding.

  I’m left with two choices, to come out of my hiding place and expose myself to a possibly dangerous situation, or stay put, risking them locking me inside. I need to find out what’s being kept here, so I make the terrifying decision to stay where I am.

  I let out a sigh of relief when their voices fade off. They must have left the building. Ten seconds later, the lights go off and the front door closes. When I finally turn to observe the dark room, I notice that the windows look out onto the front of the building. I approach one of them, careful not to be seen, and watch the man get into the car. The woman is already inside.

  As soon as the car peels away from the property, I switch on my cell phone light and tiptoe out of my hiding place. Thanks to the dust on the floor, it’s easy for me to see which path they took through the building. Their footprints lead me to a door that looks like it goes into the basement. When I hear muffled sounds on the other side, alarm bells go off in my head. It’s time to call the police.

  I press on the light switch next to the door and wipe the sweat from my hand, then I start to dial. I manage to only press two numbers when something hard collides with the back of my head.

  The phone slips from my grasp. My body folds and sinks to the dirty floor only seconds before the sharp pain knocks me out.

  I wake up to sounds of not one, but many babies crying. The sounds make my head hurt more, but they also bring me back to consciousness fast.

  “Lea,” I murmur, lifting my head which is tipped forward with my chin resting on my chest. My lips hurt when I speak as if they’re swollen, and they hurt like my entire head.

  I don’t care about the pain. My baby is here and that’s all that matters.

  I open my eyes slowly and blink several times to clear my vision.

  My breath catches in my throat when I see the woman kneeling in front of me.

  “Marcella?” My eyes zoom in on the woman who had run the Little Cradle Agency back in Sarton. A shiny spade is lying next to her.

  Ice shivers down my spine. The voice I had heard earlier had belonged to her. No wonder it sounded familiar.

  While my mind reels with shock, I notice something else. Her hair. The conversation I had with Tamara comes back to me.

  While most of her hair is auburn, her bright ginger roots definitely aren’t. Roots never lie.

  “Surprised to see me?” she asks, a smile curling her lips. “I was hoping we’d never see each other again, but life has a way of messing with our plans, doesn’t it?”

  “You stole my baby.” I peer past her shoulder while trying to move, but I feel restricted. My hands are tied behind my back with what feels like a silk scarf, trapping them between my back and the wall.

  How could I have been so wrong? I accused the wrong people of kidnapping Lea. It never once crossed my mind that Marcella could have something to do with it. No wonder she was so flustered when I showed up at her office in Sarton.

  “Don’t worry. Little Lea is in here somewhere, but she’s no longer your child.”

  I follow her gaze to the place where cribs are lined up against a wall. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. There are at least a dozen cribs. Mine wasn’t the first child Marcella kidnapped. Other mothers lost their babies to this madwoman.

  The whole basement looks like a nursery, complete with a changing area, tables with bottles covering their surfaces, and even several microwaves and refrigerators. The walls are decorated with pink and blue striped wallpaper.

  Marcella is a serial baby kidnapper. Does she create nanny agencies to cover up her crimes? I don’t even want to imagine what she plans to do with my daughter and all the babies in the basement.

  Driven by revenge, I struggle to my feet, to get my child and get the hell out, but Marcella plants a hand on one of my shoulders, pushing me down. Behind my back, I’m doing my best to release my hands from the scarf.

  “You don’t want to do anything stupid,” she says. “You’ve already made enough mistakes, don’t you think? Like allowing yourself to be caught trespassing.” She stands up to tower over me, hands in the pockets of her navy-blue trouser suit. “Do you know how I knew you were here?” she asks over the sounds of babies screaming.

  I don’t respond. My eyes are fixed on the cribs as I wonder which one has my daughter inside it.

  “I saw your car parked out front,” she continues. “I’m quite familiar with it since I paid your house a visit a few times. And not many people drive yellow cars. I also know your license plate number by heart. You should have been smarter.”

  Her face has taken on a dark expression. “Coming here was a mistake, Delia. Why didn’t you just let things go?” Breathing loudly, she crosses the room toward a large wardrobe. “I guess you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. She just had to show up and ruin my plans.” As soon as she throws the doors open, something falls out. No, not something, but someone.

  “Anita,” I say and my head jerks back as if I’ve been punched in the face.

  We thought she had run away, but instead she had been kidnapped too.

  Tears flood my throat and trickle down my face. There are so many emotions raging through me right now that I don’t even know how to react anymore.

  Anita is on the floor with her hands and feet tied together with rope. She’s gagged with a black cloth. Her damp eyes meet mine as she struggles to communicate with me, but I can’t understand a word she says.

  Marcella pokes Anita’s side with her pointy high-heeled shoe, then comes back to where I’m sitting. “I don’t have tolerance for anyone who meddles in my affairs and tries to take my goods.”

  Goods, that’s what she calls the babies she kidnaps. I feel like throwing up when I recall her conversation with the Xavier guy. They’re in the business of selling babies.

  “You’re sick,” I say with as much venom in my voice as I can manage. “You deserve to rot in hell. You will pay for this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Delia.” She lowers herself to my level again. “I’ve been running this little business of mine for years and I never got caught. That’s not about to change now. You and your drunk of a friend won’t live long enough to tell a soul.” She glances at her watch. “In about an hour, my friends are coming to take care of both of you. Then my babies will go to their perfect homes.”

  “You can’t do this. You won’t get away with it. You will rot in prison.”

  “Is that what you really want, Delia? Do you really want me to suffer after everything I did for you?” Her brows come to meet in the middle. “When we first met, I told you that I was going to help you. I promised that I would lift the burden from your shoulder
s. That’s what I did. I gave you your life back.” She lifts a lock of my hair and let’s it go again. “Some people are not meant to be mothers, and that’s okay. But your baby deserves to be raised by someone who really wants her. At the first interview, you mentioned that she was not planned. That means you didn’t want her from the start.”

  “Don’t you dare say that.” My voice is ice cold. I’m still struggling to release myself from the scarf, dying to get my hands on her. “My daughter was not planned, but she was wanted. And I will get her back.” My heart leaps when one of my hands slides from the scarf.

  “No, you won’t, sweetheart. By the end of this week, she will be the daughter of a lovely childless couple in Canada. But don’t worry, you won’t get the chance to miss her, because you won’t be alive.”

  Chapter 39

  “You’re wrong.” The thought of my daughter being sold sends me into a rage that triggers a flood of adrenaline to shoot through my veins. Before I know what I’m doing, my whole body jerks forward and my forehead collides with Marcella’s.

  We both scream out with pain, but I’m not done with her yet. While she cradles her head, I use the opportunity to inflict more damage. I push through my own pain, drawing my legs to my chest and kicking them out hard—straight into Marcella’s face. She topples back.

  The curses she throws at me are worthless. I’ve got her where I want her and I intend on keeping her there.

  I scramble to my feet and grab the spade next to her. She tries to wrestle it from me, but I manage to yank it from her grasp. I don’t think twice before slamming it into her legs to incapacitate her. Her screams are louder than those of the babies around us. I swing the spade again and slam into her legs for a second and third time. When I’m sure she won’t be able to run after us, I drop the spade and release Anita from her ropes. She will know which of the cribs has Lea.

  I don’t need to say a word for her to know what I need her to do. While I make sure Marcella doesn’t get up, Anita removes the cloth from her mouth and runs to one of the cribs. She lifts my baby out of it, a bundle in a pink swaddling cloth.

  “Run,” I call to Anita and she does as she’s told.

  I pick up the spade, in case I need it again, and follow Anita up the stairs that lead out of the basement. Marcella is trying to crawl toward the stairs, but she’s in too much pain to get far. The last sounds I hear as we run through the basement door are her roars of rage and agony.

  I turn the key in the lock to trap her inside the basement.

  We don’t stop running until we’re out of the building.

  “Drive,” I say to Anita when we get to my car. “Find a hotel or motel. We need to call the police.” Hopefully, they will arrive before Marcella’s people get to her.

  Anita nods and hands Lea to me, her gaze never meeting mine.

  “I’m so sorry, Delia,” she says as she speeds through the narrow streets of Swansford. “Please forgive me.”

  Her words slide right off me because I’m occupied with cuddling my baby girl, sobbing so hard that my chest aches. Lea joins right in.

  I only stop crying when we arrive at the first hotel we come across and ask to use the phone.

  The dispatcher on the other end promises that he will send police to Marcella, and an officer to the hotel to question us.

  We wait for the cops in the lobby while I cradle my baby. “Mommy will never let anyone take you away again.”

  This time, I intend on keeping my promise.

  WHEN MY TEARS STOP flowing and I can think straight again, I finally give Anita my attention.

  “You brought Lea back to me.” I let out a hiccup. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says and drops her head. “Marcella forgot her phone in the basement and I took a chance.”

  “How did you know she had something to do with the kidnapping?”

  “I didn’t. I still believed it was Madison. So, I followed her. Unfortunately, they caught me trying to take Lea.”

  “I’m so happy you found her.” A tear trickles down my cheek and lands on top of Lea’s head. “Thank you for saving my baby.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to make it up to you after—”

  “After you opened the door for Clayton to enter my life? He lived inside my house for God knows how long because of you.” I feel my anger return. Anita may have saved Lea, but she still betrayed me.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice.” Anita brings her hands together, pleading. “I wish I could go back and do things differently.”

  “It’s too late now. There’s no going back.” I need time to figure out where we go from here. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust her again.

  “I know,” Anita says. “I caused too much damage and I’m not done correcting my mistakes. Before Marcella locked me up, I read in the papers about what that man, Clayton, did to you. I did terrible things that put you in danger.”

  “Yes, you did.” I hold my baby close. She’s sleeping now, safe in my arms. “Clayton is dead now and he can’t hurt me. But you need help.” I stand up so I can go and book a room for the night.

  “That’s not what I need,” Anita says from behind me. “Marcella needs to go to jail for what she did to Lea and all the other little babies, but I also belong behind bars.”

  I stop walking and face her, my brows drawn together.

  “I never wanted you to find out because I know you will never be able to forgive me, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I need to clear my conscience and face the consequences. You were my friend and I owe you the truth.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” I go back to sit on the couch.

  Anita doesn’t speak again for a long time because she’s crying so hard. When she finally takes a breath, her eyes meet mine. “It was me, Delia. I ran down Andrew. I killed your husband.”

  After hearing Anita’s confession, I have to make a conscious effort not to drop Lea. My body is shaking so hard that the manager appears to ask if I’m all right. I shake my head and he asks one of the hotel staff to bring me a glass of water and a painkiller for the bump on my forehead.

  Anita is still talking, throwing more rocks at my already fragile heart while I try not to drown in my grief.

  My best friend killed my husband?

  “That’s why you stopped driving,” I murmur.

  “It was an accident. I swear it was. I didn’t mean to.” She buries her head in her hands.

  “Why?” I ask. She says it was an accident, but how could I ever believe a word that comes out of her mouth?

  She lifts her head again just as an unopened box of tissues is placed in front of us.

  Anita looks away, biting her lip. I can tell she’s not done talking. There’s more she wants to confess to. I don’t know if I can handle it.

  “Andrew and I had a fight,” she continues. “I wanted to tell you about the affair, but he didn’t want me to. I was about to drive to your house, to tell you everything, but he went in front of the car.” She continues getting the words out fast. “I panicked, so I drove off. Clayton saw what happened. He threatened to tell the police if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me give him the key to your house. He said he was an old friend and he was looking out for you. He also gave me Kelly’s business card.” Her eyes brighten with tears. “I lied to you. I was never her patient. She and Clayton knew each other. They forced me to bury Lea’s clothes in your garden. I’m so sorry for everything, Delia.”

  I hear what she’s saying, but right now I can only focus on the first thing she said. “You had an affair with my husband?” Hot fury stirs inside me. “Oh, my God, you—”

  “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you many times, but I was a coward. That night I told him it was over. He didn’t want to hear it.”

  Holding Lea even tighter, I stand up and walk away from Anita. I need to distance myself before I do something to hurt her.

  Anita is still talking and
begging me to forgive her, but her words are drowned out by the loud thudding of my heart. Instead of going to the reception desk to book a room as I had intended, I pace the lobby from one end to the other.

  The police arrive not long after Anita’s confession, and she repeats her story to them. When the handcuffs click, and she’s led out the door, I feel nothing at all.

  Epilogue

  Three months ago, Anita lied to my face. She did kill my husband, but it didn’t exactly happen the way she said it did.

  If there’s something I have learned, things don’t stay hidden for long.

  After several weeks of appearing in court, Anita finally crumbled and told the truth. Running Andrew over was not a mistake. Apparently, he was the one who broke things off with her that night and she refused to let him go. She decided she’d rather see him dead than spending the rest of his life with another woman.

  Now here I am in Charlotte, a week after Anita was sentenced to life in prison. Although I attended every court appearance, we haven’t spoken since that night in Swansford when everything came to light.

  “I never thought you would want to see me again,” she says from the other side of the glass.

  “I don’t,” I say honestly. “I just have one question.”

  She pushes back her shoulders and meets my gaze. “Fine.” I’m taken aback by the hardness in her tone.

  “How could you?” I ask.

  “How could I not?” Her gaze doesn’t waver. “You had everything I wanted, and you never missed the opportunity to let me know how wonderful your life and marriage was. You said your husband was perfect. When the opportunity presented itself, I guess I wanted to find that out for myself. I didn’t even have to try hard to turn his head.”

  “I thought you were my friend,” I say, hugging Lea tight. She’s all cozy in her baby sling, the right side of her face pressed to my chest.

  “Yes, I was your friend. I told myself I was. But I’m also human. Andrew was a very handsome man. I couldn’t resist him.”