The Baby Thief (30 page)

Sunday, Nov. 5, 11:05 a.m.

Zeke started the truck and flipped on the heater for a few minutes. He’d been watching Darcie’s apartment all morning, and the temperature was steadily dropping. It felt like snow. Just what he needed right now. Zeke muttered in disgust. Where in the hell was the girl anyway? He hadn’t seen her once. Now that he had a dead body on his conscience, he was more anxious than ever to get out of town. He had to get his money together first. He needed as much cash as he could get his hands on. Florida might not be far enough away.

The heat made him sleepy. He put the truck in gear and drove three blocks to a 7-11 for coffee. He’d spent the night in a nearby motel, but hadn’t slept much. His neighbors had vibrated the walls with salsa music and annoyed the hell out of him with their gibberish. Now his bowels were in an uproar, and he’d had to leave the alley across from Darcie’s apartment twice to go to the can. The coffee would probably make it worse, but he didn’t care.

A group of young thugs in front of the store eyed him as he hopped out of his truck. Punks. Zeke didn’t give them a second look. He bought coffee and a maple bar and drove back to Darcie’s, parking on a side street this time. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion. Still, he wasn’t really worried. People in this part of town weren’t likely to call the cops unless they heard gunfire.

Twenty minutes later he saw Sarah come down the stairs. Where was Darcie? Zeke checked his watch: 11:25 a.m. The lazy bitch was probably still in bed. He watched Sarah head up Blair Street. He considered following her, then rejected it just as quickly. Darcie was the one with the $20,000 package in her belly. All he had to do was keep track of her until she popped—which should be any moment—then snatch the baby.

He’d already called an ex-con he knew who’d put him in touch with a lawyer who handled not-so-legitimate adoptions. Everything was set to go. He just needed to be patient and wait for the baby. Sometimes women went over their due date. Zeke had a good feeling about the whole thing. The timing was going to be perfect, he could tell.

A few minutes later, Sarah hurried back up the street carrying a small brown sack. Zeke figured she’d been to the store. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Might as well get some shuteye. If Sarah was still in the apartment, so was Darcie. He could use a short break.

Chapter 34

Sunday, Nov. 5, 11:55 a.m.

Eric waited for the nurse to leave. He’d been awake for fifteen minutes and felt surprisingly coherent. The headache he’d had earlier was gone, but his upper chest felt like someone had been digging around in it.

He was determined to get up anyway. Now that he knew who Jenna’s kidnappers were, it was impossible to lie still and let someone else finish the job. He had to see it through, even if there was little possibility of finding Jenna alive. He had to know why she’d been taken. He needed to confront Carmichael. It was insane to go, considering his condition, but Eric was powerless to resist the pull.

Bracing for the pain, he eased his shoulders off the bed. The white-hot tearing sensation made him want to scream. He ground his teeth together and forced himself to a sitting position. Blood rushed out of his brain, leaving him dizzy. He waited for it to pass, then gently pulled the IV needle from the crook of his arm. He stuck a tissue in the crook of his arm to stop the bleeding and held it tight. His breath was shallow and painful.

Doubts about his ability to function gave him pause. He waited for them to pass, letting his body adjust and gather strength. In a burst of determination, he swung his legs to the floor and stood up.

A mild earthquake shook the floor. Eric braced himself against the bed. In a moment the shaking subsided. He realized it had been his own legs. Never in his whole life had he felt so weak. Not even the time he’d gotten food poisoning from eating butter he’d left on the counter overnight. He took a deep breath and winced with the pain. Still determined, he looked around for his clothes. The other bed was occupied, but both televisions were silent. No flowers, magazines, or clothes anywhere. He figured the shirt was probably ruined, but the pants he could use. The breezy hospital grown wouldn’t do on the outside. He could feel the cold coming through the window, the gray-white sky pregnant with snow.

He took a short, tentative step toward the bathroom. Not bad. He took another one. The room started to spin.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A tiny nurse with cropped black hair rushed into the room. She cinched her arm firmly around his waist and pulled him back to the bed. Rapidly losing consciousness, Eric didn’t resist.

Chapter 35

Sunday, Nov. 5, 1:15 p.m.

Zeke woke with a start. A scraggly looking fellow with filthy clothes stared at him through the driver’s side window.

“Get away!” Zeke shouted as he jerked forward into a more upright position. The bum shuffled away while glancing over his shoulder repeatedly to check if Zeke was following.

He checked his watch. Oh shit. He’d been asleep for over an hour. He looked up at Darcie’s apartment. The light in the window, which had been on all morning, was now out. Damn! Had the girls gone somewhere? He stepped out of the truck and stretched his legs. Maybe he should have a chat with the apartment manager. He’d seen the guy yesterday and he looked like an understanding fellow, someone who would appreciate an offer of cash.

He locked the truck and sauntered a hundred yards up the street. The manager’s apartment was the first one on the ground floor. He rapped sharply on the door.

A voice from inside yelled, “Just a minute.” Zeke waited while the young man took his time opening the door. He was a good-looking kid, but his hair was too long and his clothes smelled musty. He smiled agreeably, though, when he saw Zeke. “We don’t have any vacancies right now, but I can put you on a list.”

“I’m looking for my niece. Her name’s Darcie, and she’s nine months pregnant. I promised her I’d be here in time for the birth, but she isn’t home. I’m worried that she’s already gone to the hospital.”

“She went last night. I loaned her cab fare.”

“Which hospital?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you heard anything about the baby?”

The manager shook his head. “Any chance you’ve got the ten bucks she owes me? I sure could use it. If it had been anybody but Darcie, I’d never have loaned the cash.”

“Sure.” Zeke dug two fives out of his wallet. It wasn’t much to pay for a friend in the right place. “Thanks. See you around.”

He headed for the phone booth at the 7-11. He called North McKenzie first and got lucky. The lady said Darcie and the baby were both fine but would have to stay in the hospital for a few days. Zeke thanked her politely, hung up the phone, and let out a stream of profanities. He’d been patient for a long time. Now he wanted to get the hell down the road. He put another quarter in the slot and dialed the lawyer.

“Mr. Johnson? This is Zeke Brothers. Al said to call when the baby was born.”

The lawyer spoke softly but with urgency. “Are you in possession of the child now?”

“Not exactly. The baby has to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

“Anything serious?”

“No. Just a rough labor.”

“When you have the merchandise, call me at 345-2870. I’ll have the cash.” The phone clicked in Zeke’s ear. He repeated the number to himself while he ran inside the store to borrow a pen. He pulled out the picture of his sister he’d been carrying around for forty years and wrote the number on the back. Elise would understand. This was important.

Exhausted and frustrated, he climbed in the truck and drove down Seventh Street looking for a motel. Something cheap where they didn’t ask too many questions, but not the one he’d stayed in the night before. He needed sleep. His left arm and shoulder were bothering him from all the driving.

In the morning, he’d stop in the hospital and see if he could find out exactly when Darcie would be released. He wanted to be waiting, grab the kid before she ever got home.

Zeke worried about how long he would have to wait. With his picture in the paper—identified as a kidnapper—and the reporter who had seen him now dead, it wasn’t a good idea to hang around town long. If the hospital said Darcie had to stay more than two days, he’d head back out to the compound, slip in and quietly smother the kidnapped woman, then take off for Florida or Mexico.

Zeke decided he would make copies of Carmichael’s computer files while he was in the compound. Just in case the Reverend got worked up over Jenna’s death and decided to turn against him. It never hurt to keep an edge.

Chapter 36

Sunday, Nov. 5, 3:32 p.m.

Using the tip of his scalpel, Carmichael made a tiny incision in the folds of Jenna’s belly button and a second incision near her pubis. He pushed a hollow needle through the first opening and pumped a small amount of carbon dioxide into the abdomen cavity to create visibility and space to maneuver. He removed the needle and inserted a narrow ultrasound probe. After locating her right ovary, Carmichael began to search for mature egg follicles, which would appear as black spheres on the monitor.

The procedure was routine for him; he’d performed at least a dozen in the last two years. Liz was nervous though, he could tell. She often extracted genetic material from embryos for testing but had never searched ovarian fluid for mature oocytes. Carmichael would have preferred to have Rachel on hand, but Liz wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t want Rachel to know the eggs were for her, nor did she trust Rachel’s abilities. Liz insisted on being his only assistant. This was her baby. Fortunately, the transfer, which would be done in a day or so, was a quick procedure that he could do unaided.

In a moment, Carmichael spotted his first ripe follicle. He slipped an aspiration needle through the opening he’d made near the pubis. Eyes back on the monitor, he guided the needle to the ripe follicle, pushed it in, and punctured the sphere. Quickly pressing the suction pump, he drained the follicle. Strawberry-colored fluid flowed out the connecting hose into a test tube.

“First one.” He let go of the aspiration needle just long enough to grab the tube and hand it to Liz through the pass-bar. She was in the embryo lab next door, but he could see her head and shoulders through the opening. This was where Rachel would have been handy. Jenna was completely paralyzed and unconscious from the ketamine, so the risk of the patient seeing Liz was minimal.

Liz started at the tube, transfixed. Finally she whispered, “My baby.”

It was his opportunity to say what had been on his mind all morning. “It could be our baby, Liz.”

She looked up at him, stunned. “I thought you never wanted to have another child.”

“I’ve come to feel differently in the last week. Your passion to be a mother rejuvenated me. I want to be the father of your child.” Jenna’s child, he corrected silently, automatically turning the probe back and forth in search of another follicle.

Liz sounded panicked. “I don’t see how that could work. I can’t live here, and you’re not planning to give up the church.”

“I could still be her father.” Carmichael located a second ripe follicle and penetrated it. “You could bring her out here on weekends sometimes.”

“I can’t.” Liz had her eye pressed to the Olympus microscope and didn’t look up. “I can’t share this child with anyone.”

“What about when she’s older? When she asks about her daddy?” Carmichael siphoned the oocyte into a second tube and handed it through the opening to Liz. He gripped the needle again, then continued his search with the ultrasound probe.

After a long pause Liz said. “I’ll tell her the truth.”

“What truth?” Carmichael scoffed. “That her father was a sperm donor who got paid a hundred bucks to jack off in a cup?” He wished he could see Liz’s expression, but he kept his eyes on the monitor. The procedure required concentrated hand/eye coordination. She was silent, so he continued, “That you don’t know his name, only that his sperm was the healthiest of the bunch.” Liz started to protest, but he cut her off. “Or will you tell her the other truth—that you stole her from her mother, who happens to be your sister?”

He could hear Liz sucking in air and fighting back sobs. Carmichael cursed himself. He’d gone too far. And his timing was ridiculous. Finding and separating the oocytes from the bloody ovarian fluid needed to be done quickly and correctly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want your daughter to have the same anxieties about who her parents are that you’ve had all your life.”

“She won’t.” Liz spit the words out. “She’ll have a real mother and that’s enough. Let’s finish this. We only have two eggs so far.”

They worked in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Carmichael located and siphoned three more follicles, in which Liz found a total of four oocytes. He’d expected more. From what he could tell with the limited probing he’d done, Jenna’s reproductive system seemed remarkably free of scarring or endometriosis. He moved to the left ovary and immediately discovered a large cyst, which looked suspiciously like a teratoma.

Carmichael frowned, muttering to himself.

“What is it?” Liz had heard him.

“It looks like a teratoma on her left ovary.”

“Any possibility of harvesting the follicles?”

“None.”

She cursed softly.

Carmichael wondered if he should remove it. Sometimes these cysts were harmless. Sometimes they grew—causing extreme pain—until they ruptured, resulting in hemorrhaging and possibly death. He couldn’t worry about that right now. The six oocytes needed his immediate attention. He gently removed the probe and needle. “Time to close up.”