The Baby Thief (26 page)

Eric put the picture of the man with the ponytail on the seat next to him during the drive home. The fact that he might be a cocaine-buying doctor seemed oddly familiar, in the way his face seemed familiar from the beginning. Eric searched his mind and came up blank. He knew where to look though. The files at the newspaper had a record of every significant thing that had happened in Eugene in last hundred years He suspected the doctor had once made the news.

After spending his six bucks on burgers, Eric drove out to the Willamette News building. He went straight to the second floor in search of Pikerton. His friend met him in the hallway, smelling like a burning cigarette.

“Hey, Eric. Surprised to still see me here?”

“No. Why?”

“When we ran that missing persons story, I promised Hoogstad an exciting follow-up. I haven’t got one yet and they’re getting ready to do another round of layoffs.”

“You will. Listen to this.” Eric grabbed Joe and propelled him toward the corner of the big open room.

“Where are we going?”

“To look at old files.”

Joe stopped. “How long is this going to take?”

“I don’t know, but I think one of our mystery men might be a doctor who was in the news a long time ago.

“I didn’t recognize either of them, and I’ve been around forever.”

“He’s changed. Come on, this is your follow-up story.”

Joe muttered something, then followed him.

Assuming the story was at least five years old, they started in 2003 and worked back. The last ten years were all archived on CDs in the form of PDFs. Before that, it was old-fashioned microfiche. After an hour, Eric developed a headache from staring at low-resolution images on a fourteen-inch monitor. Joe offered to go find some aspirin.

Eric continued to scroll, reading only the headlines, then the first paragraph of any story related to doctors, hospitals, or medical news of any kind. The Willamette News was a fairly small paper, and the editions rolled by quickly. There were lots of reports from the AP about health-related research. Vitamin A reduced cancer rates. Too much vitamin A caused fetal damage. After a while he learned to skip all the national stuff.

Joe returned with two cups of coffee, aspirin, and a new aura of smoke. “Any luck?”

“Not yet.”

They worked in silence for another hour with only an occasional “Remember when…?”

They had just started on the microfiche when Joe said, “Hey, come look at this.” Eric was relieved to get out of the chair.

The archived headline read,
Charges Against Doctor Dropped
. It was dated March 29, 1998. Eric’s queasy stomach rose up in protest as he read the story:

After testimony from Dr. Elizabeth Harrington, who claimed Dr. David Carmichael was sober when he left her house shortly before a fatal accident that claimed his wife and child, district attorney Darin Harcloud dropped all charges against Carmichael.

Last Wednesday Anne Carmichael, 34, and David Carmichael Jr., 6, were found dead at the scene after the car they were riding in plunged over an embankment into a tree. A nearby resident discovered the wreck in the early morning and notified authorities. Evidence at the scene indicated Anne Carmichael may not have been driving when the car hit the tree. Police contacted Dr. David Carmichael at his home, not far from the accident, where he was found sleeping, covered with minor cuts and bruises.

Carmichael claimed to remember nothing of the accident and refused to submit to a breathalyzer test. The police had charged Carmichael with reckless endangerment, but after Harrington’s testimony, the grand jury failed to press charges. Carmichael was released in time to attend his wife’s and son’s funeral, held yesterday afternoon.

Chapter 26

Saturday, Nov. 4, 1:26 p.m.

Jenna had been awake for hours, her longest period of consciousness since waking up in the gray room. Her thinking was still not clear—she had to work to stay focused—but the drug in the IV was losing its grip on her mind. The longer she was coherent, the more frightened she became. Someone had hit her in the face. She couldn’t remember it clearly, but she could feel the heat of the bruise on her left cheek. Little chunks of conversation kept popping into her memory.…
what this was all about before you die… your sister… a cold bitch… take one of your eggs
.

Who had said these things? And why? She didn’t have a sister. Jenna believed the part about dying though. If she didn’t come up with another escape plan soon, she would die in this room. She was more certain of that than anything else, including who she was. Nothing about her life seemed real. Nobody out there cared about her. Why else hadn’t she been rescued by now? Her despair only thrived on the surface, though. Deep down, she wanted to live. There had to be a way.

In a sudden burst of inspiration, Jenna realized there was one hope of escape. The idea was simple, and she was frustrated with herself for not thinking of it before. It would take every bit of self-discipline she had to smile at her captors, to lie and tell them what they wanted to hear, but she had to try. Especially now that she’d developed a little tolerance to the sedative. Her body felt better too. Her heart had stopped racing, and she hadn’t had a hot flash since waking. Why was that? Were they giving her less sedative than before? What about the injections? Jenna couldn’t remember.

No, wait. A nurse had been giving her injections, but not lately. Had something happened to the nurse? The plan wouldn’t work without her. She could try it on the preacher/doctor, but–

“Feeling better, Jenna?” He was suddenly there.

Startled, Jenna’s pulsed raced. How had he slipped in unnoticed? Had she drifted off and not known it? Hatred for him burned through the fog of the sedative. But she remembered that the plan was to be nice, so she forced herself to give him a small smile. “Actually, I am.”

“Good.” He smiled back and laid a cool hand on Jenna’s forehead. “You didn’t ask who I am. You remember me, don’t you?”

His tone frightened her. She did recognize him, but decided to conceal it. “Not really.” It felt safer to pretend not to remember anything. “Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, and a man of God. Do you remember why you’re here?”

Jenna shook her head. The words “borrow some tissue” floated into her brain. She was too afraid to ask what they meant. Her stomach growled, and she was aware of a wonderful aroma. “What did you bring me?”

“Chicken and dumplings. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes.” She was salivating.

“First we have business to take care of.”

He did something with the IV bag, then took her pulse and blood pressure. Jenna hated his touch, his cool bony fingers, the way he acted as if he owned her. She especially hated the way he exposed her buttock before giving her an injection. He seemed to be taking his time, touching her as much as possible. Jenna’s jaw ached from grinding her teeth, but she was helpless to resist. Complaining was not in the plan today. She kept silent and thought about Eric, his warm soft hands and gentle touch.

The preacher/doctor eased her hip down to the mattress, then lowered himself quietly onto a chair next to the bed. The same thin, cool fingers that had stroked her butt gently held the spoon to Jenna’s lips.

She was too hungry to spit the food back at him. She barely paused to chew.

After wolfing down the first few bites, Jenna became aware of him watching her. For the first time, she noticed his hair, which was gray at the temples, and the skin on his forehead, which was pale and unwrinkled. He had a long, narrow nose and a small mouth with dark, almost red, lips. He wasn’t wearing a surgical mask this time.

Jenna became aware of the coolness of the room, the silkiness of her nightgown, the deep silence beyond the walls. Abruptly, she lost her appetite and turned away.

“Come on, Jenna. You need to eat.” His voice was gentle, coaxing.

Had she not hated him, he would have been hard to resist. “I’m full, really.”

Then it came back to her. The plan. Her only hope of getting out of this crazy place. She had thought it would work best with the nurse, but the way the preacher/doctor was looking at her, she decided to try it now. Jenna forced herself to look him in the eyes. “Doctor?”

Beaming smile. “Yes, Jenna?”

“I know I’m going to die here, and I want to make peace with God. Will you help me?”

He looked stricken. “Why do you say that? I promise you, with God as my witness, you’re not going to die.”

“Why won’t you tell me why I’m here?”

“It’s for your own protection. The less you know, the better.”

Jenna struggled to put together the right words, to let go of her anger. “I still want to make peace with God. I’m scared all the time. And lonely. I want what you and Rachel have. I want to feel loved and secure.”

His eyes wavered, undecided. Then he responded, choosing his words carefully. “God does love you, regardless of what you believe or what you do.”

“Then why do I feel abandoned?” Jenna let go of her pride and let her anguish come through. “Why do I feel so afraid?”

“You must still have doubts.” His eyes searched hers intently, as if he were looking into her soul. “Do you have doubts about God, Jenna?”

She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “Sometimes.” Jenna blinked back real tears. “Why would He let this happen to me if He really loved me?”

The preacher/doctor smiled warmly, obviously partial to the question. “It’s all part of His plan. He brought us together for a reason. I think He intends for you to help me heal an old wound and for me to help you find faith.”

She bit back the urge to mock him. He was so arrogant, so twisted. Jenna closed her eyes to hide her contempt. She moved her lips and pretended to pray.

“Have you ever accepted Christ as your savior?” He gently stroked her hand. Jenna ground her teeth together and reminded herself she would do almost anything to be released from the bed. To be free of the needle, even for a few hours.

“When I was eight or nine I went to a Baptist church with a friend.” The memory came back with a vividness that surprised her. “The preacher scared me so badly with the threat of burning in hell that when he called the sinners to come down and be saved, I went.”

He chuckled. “A Baptist preacher first put the fear of God in my heart as well.”

“Do you believe in hell?” Jenna didn’t believe in hell any more than in heaven, but she wanted to know what he believed. Why he thought he could get away with what he was doing to her.

“I believe that life without faith and eternity without God are hell.” His voice was hypnotizing. She could picture him in front of a congregation, waving his arms and making the women swoon.

“I want to see the light when I die,” Jenna ad-libbed. “The beautiful light that people with near-death experiences talk about.”

“You’re not going to die.” He seemed flustered by her talk about death.

“I want to be ready. Being here has made me realize that my life is meaningless. I have no family, few friends. I work all the time, but I don’t really enjoy my job. I’ve always wanted a child but…” Jenna couldn’t finish the thought. Another chunk of remembered conversation bobbed to the surface. Something about her child making it out even if she didn’t.

“You want to have a child?” The doctor’s eyes danced.

Jenna wanted to bite her own tongue. Did this freak plan to impregnate her? The way he was looking at her was creepy. She had to distract him. “What I really want is a family. You know, a group of people to bond with and come home to. Or a church, like you have here. I want to belong.”

“You’re very talkative today. Very alert.” His expression changed, making her pulse quicken.

“I’m lonely and frightened. Will you pray with me?” Jenna cursed herself for talking too much. Letting him know the drug was losing its effect was not a good idea.

“Of course. Would you like to pray out loud?”

“Will you go first?”

“Of course.” He closed his eyes. “Dear Lord. Thank you for the many answered prayers, for keeping Jenna safe and healthy while in my care. Today my prayer for her is special. Today I ask you to fill her heart with love and joy. Give her the peace of mind that comes with faith in your eternal blessing. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”

Jenna had drifted off for a moment. She’d known since he fiddled with her IV that she would begin to float, then eventually be unconscious for a while. She struggled to stay with the plan. She began to pray, her words slurring slightly. “Dear God. Please take away my doubts and give me peace of mind. I want you in my heart and soul.” It was the best she could do. “Amen.”

If the drug hadn’t already started to kick in, the shock of his lips against hers would have made her shriek. In her detached state of mind, Jenna simply opened her eyes and stared incredulously.

The crazy preacher/doctor continued to kiss her, pressing his tongue between her lips. Jenna tried to twist her face away, but he grabbed her head with both hands and held her while he probed the inside of her mouth with his tongue. His chest rubbed against her breasts.

Suddenly he jerked back. Jenna heard Rachel’s voice come into the room. God bless the little nurse.

“Reverend. I have to speak with you right away.” Rachel sounded frightened.

“I’m with a patient now. Can’t it wait a few minutes?” His voice was icy, breathless.

The darkness circled Jenna’s consciousness. Just before she drifted off she heard the nurse say, “It’s about Sarah.”

Chapter 27

Saturday, Nov. 4, 4:37 p.m.

Once he found Darcie’s apartment, Zeke drove around the block and parked in an alley across the street. He wanted to make sure Darcie still lived at the address and to see if anyone else, like a boyfriend, was around. After he found out a few facts, Zeke planned to move on to the critical stuff, like taking care of Troutman and lining up a buyer for the baby.