The Night Stalker (17 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I
followed Sally to a Cracker Barrel near the turnpike, and we got a booth. After our waitress delivered our coffee, Sally spoke up.

“I never ate at a Cracker Barrel until you told me about the waitress who helped you find that missing little girl. Then I started eating at them, and decided I like the food.”

There were fifty-four Cracker Barrel restaurants in Florida, and all of them were located near major highways. Whenever a child had gone missing in Broward and a vehicle had been involved, I’d sent a Be on the Lookout e-mail to every Cracker Barrel. The BOLO had included the child’s photo and physical description, plus a description of the abductor if one was available. The waiters and waitresses had spotted so many missing kids in their restaurants that it had become standard procedure.

“Are you still seeing Ralph?” I asked.

Sally rolled her eyes. “What day is it? Friday? Yes, I’m still seeing Ralph. Ask me tomorrow, and you’ll probably get a different answer.”

“The last time we talked, it sounded like you guys were getting serious.”

“That’s an understatement. Ralph asked me to marry him.”

When Sally had lived in Fort Lauderdale, she’d dated an assortment of guys, with each one being a bigger loser than the last. I’d been hearing about Ralph the subcontractor for a while, and had been rooting for it to work out.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I told him I wasn’t ready for marriage.”

“How did he take it?”

“About as well as you are. Stop looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. His proposal took me by surprise. I told him I wanted to think about it. We didn’t have a fight.”

I blew on my coffee. “Did he give you a ring?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

“Did he?”

Sally balled up her napkin and threw it at my head. “Damn it, Jack, you’re like a flipping dog with a bone. Let it go. Okay?”

It was well known that men didn’t understand women. What wasn’t as well known was that women didn’t understand men. I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “The hardest thing I ever did was ask Rose to marry me. It took me an entire week to gather up the nerve. When I gave her the ring, she started crying. I thought she was upset with me, and I nearly threw up. Thank God she said yes.”

Sally drew back in her seat. “What are you telling me? That I wounded Ralph, and destroyed our relationship?”

“I’m just telling you how he feels. How you deal with it is up to you.”

We finished our drinks and settled the check. I followed Sally to the parking lot and watched her smoke a cigarette.

“So what should I do?” she asked. “Cook him a fabulous dinner and sleep with him?”

I put my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter. Sally punched me in the shoulder so hard I nearly hit the pavement.

“It’s not funny, Jack. What should I do?”

“Go home, go to bed, turn off the lights, stare into the darkness, and listen to your heart,” I said.

“Where did
that
come from?”

“My grandmother told me that. It was her solution to all of life’s great problems.”

“Does it work?”

“It works better than anything else I’ve tried.”

Sally ground her cigarette into the pavement. I wasn’t ready for the long embrace, or the smooch that came with it.

“Sometimes the strangest things come out of your mouth,” she said.

I drove south on the turnpike while punching Burrell’s number into my cell phone. Burrell hadn’t had much to cheer about lately, and I wanted to share the lead I’d gotten from Tim Small.

“Hello, Jack.” Her voice was flat and dead.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m having the day from hell,” Burrell said. “A sick newborn was abducted from Broward General Medical Center this morning. Chip Wells with Action Eleven News found out, and got on the air and called Fort Lauderdale the missing kids capital of the United States. The chief has made me drop everything to find this baby. Every detective in Missing Persons is looking for him.”

“Who’s handling the excavation at the landfill?” I asked.

“Whitley has taken over.”

“Who’s looking for Sampson Grimes?”

Burrell paused. “No one right now. I’m sorry, Jack, but you know how things work.”

I punched the dashboard in anger. Chip Wells was one of the reasons I was no longer on the force. He’d written untrue things about me that had helped destroy my career while advancing his own, and I could see him doing the same thing to Burrell.

“I can find your sick baby,” I said.

“You can?”

“Yes. I handled three sick baby abductions when I ran Missing Persons. The abductors were identical. I’m willing to bet yours is as well.”

“You think so? Describe the abductor.”

“Your abductor is female, between the ages of twenty and forty-five, overweight, and was posing in the maternity ward as a nurse.”

Burrell gasped. “Jesus Christ. You just described our prime suspect.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Stop being a jerk. Is she violent?”

“No, but she is delusional. This is not your normal child abduction.”

“How do you know that, Jack? How can you be so certain?”

“Because the baby was sick,” I said.

“Is that the clincher?”

“Yes. It tells you everything you need to know. I’ll help you find the baby, but I want something in return.”

“Name it.”

“Sally Haskell’s guy pulled through. The drug enforcers who are holding Sampson Grimes are keeping him in an Armwood Guest Suite Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. The hotel is old and run-down, and probably isn’t being used as a hotel anymore. If you’ll assign the detectives from Missing Persons to track down all the Armwood hotels, I’ll find this kid.”

I heard Burrell breathing heavily into the phone.

“Why do I feel like I’m being blackmailed?” she asked.

“Because you are,” I said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I
knew the Broward General Medical Center like the back of my hand. Jessie had been born there, and I’d spent an unplanned vacation in its IC unit after being stabbed in the leg by a suspect. Because of its proximity to busy downtown Fort Lauderdale, its maternity ward was a target for people looking to steal babies, and I’d spent many hours training the nursing staff and doctors on how to thwart abductions.

Like so many hospitals in south Florida, the parking lot was half the size it needed to be. I trolled the aisles until I spied someone leaving, then fought another car for the spot. My snarling dog convinced the competing driver to retreat, and I parked.

I leashed Buster and we headed across the baking macadam. Standing beneath a green canopy by the back entrance I spotted Burrell, talking on her cell. The expression on her face was best described as frozen dread. She folded the phone as I got close.

“Getting browbeaten by the mayor?” I asked.

“How did you guess?”

“You look ready to throw up.”

We went inside to the admissions area. The atmosphere was zoo-like, with a mob of ailing people besieging a pair of frantic receptionists. I didn’t see any reporters, and guessed that Burrell had decided to freeze out the media for the time being.

Burrell showed her badge, and we were allowed to pass. Our footsteps followed us down a long corridor to Obstetrics.

“Have you been able to maintain the crime scene?” I asked.

“Barely,” Burrell said.

Crimes in hospitals always posed problems for the police. If the crimes took place inside high-traffic areas like emergency rooms or maternity wards, it was impossible to keep staff and patients from trespassing on the crime scene.

“How about witnesses?” I asked.

“We’ve got a candy striper who thinks she saw the abductor, and the mother, who handed her child off to a woman posing as a nurse early this morning. The mother’s name is Lonna Wakefield. Her son’s named Martin.”

“What’s wrong with the boy?”

“He was born three weeks premature, and was put in the neonatal intensive care unit. This morning he was cleared to leave NICU, and brought to see his mother.”

“His mother’s still a patient in the hospital?”

“Yes. She had complications giving birth.”

“How’s the mother taking it?”

“Not well. She started screaming when she heard the news. The father was in the room, and he started punching the walls. We almost had to arrest him.”

“Have you ruled the parents out as suspects?”

We had reached the maternity ward, and I put my face inches from the thick glass and stared at the newborns lying in bassinets. Burrell slapped her hand on my shoulder, and I turned and looked into her tired face.

“How long did I work for you, Jack?” she asked sternly.

“Six years,” I replied.

“Did I learn anything in all that time?”

“You learned plenty.”

“Glad to hear it. Yes, I’ve ruled the parents out as suspects. They didn’t sell their baby or decide to get rid of him. They’re innocent young kids. Now, let’s get this show on the road.”

Burrell started walking toward a room down from the ward. I gave the newborns a final glance, and saw a tiny guy in the front raise his clenched hand like he was saluting me. I couldn’t help myself, and waved back.

Lonna Wakefield and her husband were having a good cry when we entered the room. Lonna was sitting up in bed, a petite, fair-skinned young woman with wide, childlike eyes, while hubby sat beside her, a husky, corn-fed guy with a face as round as a barn owl. The wall beside the bed looked bruised.

Burrell introduced me to the couple. They both looked at me suspiciously, then did the same to my dog. Burrell picked up on their apprehension.

“Jack is an expert at finding abducted children,” she explained. “He’s offered to help us find your son.”

The husband frowned. “No offense, Detective, but we don’t have money to pay for this guy.”

“Jack won’t charge you,” Burrell said.

The couple’s faces lit up. I made Buster lie down, then crouched beside the bed so I was looking into Lonna’s face. Burrell was an excellent judge of character, but I still had to be sure that the Wakefields weren’t trying to pull the wool over our eyes. More than one sobbing couple had been responsible for selling their kid to pay off a debt, and I had to be certain these two were being honest.

“I’d like to ask you some questions about the woman who took your son,” I said. “Take your time with your answers. The more you can remember, the easier it will be for me to find your baby.”

Lonna rested her hand on her husband’s wrist. “I’ll do whatever you want, mister.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. How many days have you been here?”

“Three,” Lonna said. “I started having my contractions early, and Jimmie rushed me to the hospital on Tuesday night.”

“Detective Burrell told me that a woman came into your room this morning, and you gave her your son,” I said. “Why did you do that?”

Lonna winced, and I thought her husband was going to come out of his chair.

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” Jimmie Wakefield said angrily.

I ignored him, and continued staring into his wife’s eyes.

“I thought she was a nurse,” Lonna replied softly.

“Was she wearing a nurse’s uniform?” I asked.

Lonna’s eyes flickered as she brought up the memory. “Yeah, but she wasn’t wearing a nurse’s badge around her neck. I should have noticed that.”

“You had other things on your mind. Had you seen this woman before?”

“I saw her hanging around the maternity ward. I really didn’t notice her, not right away. There are so many people, between the doctors and nurses and volunteers and visitors. There was even a newborn class one day. She sort of blended in.”

“Had she visited your room before?”

“Yes. She popped in after Martin was born to see how I was doing.”

“Can you describe her?”

Lonna closed her eyes. “She was about thirty-five, Italian, maybe five-six or five-seven, kinda plump, wore her hair tied back in a bun, pleasant face.”

“Was she nice to you?”

She opened her eyes. They had welled up with tears, and Jimmie grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. “She was sweet,” Lonna said. “She reminded me of my mom.”

“Which was why you felt comfortable handing her your son.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to at first.”

“Then why did you?”

“My baby was coughing, and needed to get his medicine. She offered to take him. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Lonna had just described the classic abductor of newborns: a pleasant woman impersonating a hospital employee who ingratiates herself with a mother in order to get her hands on the mother’s newborn child. I decided that the Wakefields hadn’t done anything wrong, and rose from my crouching position. Both parents relaxed.

“Is there anything else you remember about this woman?” I asked.

“She called herself Tessa,” Lonna said. “She really fussed over Martin.”

I found myself nodding, and went to the door. Then I had a thought, and turned back to face the couple. “Did Tessa know the name of the medications Martin was being given?”

“Yes,” Lonna said. “She asked me what they were called, and wrote it down. She said she wanted to be sure the doctor was giving Martin the right drugs.”

“What were their names?”

“Albuterol and theophylline.”

I borrowed a pen and slip of paper from Burrell, made Lonna spell the drugs for me, and wrote them down.

“Is that important?” Lonna asked.

I didn’t like to tell grieving parents any more than I had to during an investigation, only Lonna and Jimmie Wakefield were sick with worry, and deserved to hear even the tiniest bit of good news. I said, “This is going to sound strange, but that’s the best thing you could have told me. Tessa loves your baby. That’s why she stole him, and that’s why I should have no trouble tracking her down.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I
walked outside Lonna Wakefield’s room and let my eyes scan the hallway. The floor had been recently mopped, and it reflected my shadow, as well as that of my dog’s and Burrell’s, both of whom stood behind me. My eyes locked on an emergency exit at the hallway’s end. Without conscious thought my feet took me to it, and my hand grabbed the door handle that would lead me outside. Burrell called out in alarm.

“Jack, you’re going to set off the sirens,” she said.

“This is the exit that Tessa took when she escaped with the baby,” I said.

“We don’t know that for certain. There are other exits in the building.”

I shook my head, still grasping the door handle. I heard Burrell’s shoes clop on the floor as she caught up to me. “Tessa took the path of least resistance, which happens to be this door,” I said. “My guess is, she dismantled the siren earlier, and parked her car outside. She was gone before anyone knew the baby was missing.”

“You’re sure about this,” Burrell said.

“Bet you a buck.”

“You’re on.”

I’ve been hunting down kids long enough to know when I’m right. I pushed open the emergency exit and waited. No siren went off. Burrell let out an exasperated breath.

“It must be hell being right all the time,” she said.

I entered a dimly lit stairwell and had a quick look around. On the opposite side was another door that led outside. I went to it, and grabbed the handle.

“Want to bet another buck?”

“Not with you.”

I opened the door and sunlight flooded the stairwell along with the clamorous noise of traffic on nearby Andrews Avenue. Buster scurried out between my legs and made a beeline for a line of garbage cans hugging the side of the building. I began pulling off the lids and quickly found a drab gray nurse’s uniform stuffed into one. The tag inside the collar said X Large. Burrell took the uniform and held it up to the light.

“You never cease to amaze me,” she said.

“Check the pockets,” I said. “She was in a hurry, and probably didn’t bother to clean them out.”

Burrell emptied the pockets while I tried to determine where Tessa had parked her car. We were on the eastern side of the hospital, and parking was limited to cars reserved for doctors and high-ranking hospital employees. A small strip of grass separated the parking area from the street, and I found tire imprints in the grass.

“Tessa parked her car here,” I called to Burrell. “Judging from the space between the tires, she’s driving something pretty small.”

“She parked in the grass? Isn’t that a little risky?”

“Desperate people do desperate things,” I said. “Find anything?”

“A receipt from Publix. She purchased eighty-six dollars’ worth of groceries two days ago, paid cash. Judging from the items she bought, she definitely is married.”

“Lots of beer and frozen pizza?”

“Yes. They like to eat.”

Burrell stuffed the uniform beneath her arm. “We still don’t know her name, or where she lives, or anything else. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but how do we track her down? Have your trusty dog run down the highway, and pick up her scent?”

Buster had found something smelly in the grass and was rolling in it. I clicked my fingers to no avail, then answered her. “You need to contact all the local pharmacies and hospitals, and ask them to be on the lookout for any woman who’s registered a home birth. They also need to be looking for any prescriptions for albuterol and theophylline. Tessa may have stolen a doctor’s script, and written out a prescription for Martin’s medicine.”

“You think she’s going to claim Martin as her own?”

“Yes. Tessa is starting a family.”

“This woman isn’t your normal criminal, is she?”

“She’s probably never broken a law in her life. But apprehending her is still going to be tricky.”

“Is she dangerous?”

“Yes.”

Burrell’s cell phone was ringing. She yanked it out, and made a face. I didn’t have to ask her who it was. She said, “Save that thought. There’s a Village Inn up the road. I’ll meet you there when I’m done with this call, and you can explain this to me.”

“Tell the mayor I said hello,” I said.

“I’ll do that.”

I pulled Buster out of the grass. He’d rolled in something dead, and I dragged him to my car.

I got a towel out of the trunk and cleaned Buster’s fur. Dogs rolled in bad smells to cover their own scent and keep their enemies guessing. Right now, I was guessing that Buster needed a bath.

As I put Buster into the car, I saw Jimmie Wakefield coming across the parking lot. He was a huge guy, and his puffed-up chest and face made him look even bigger. He halted a few feet from where I stood, and pointed a finger in my face.

“Why did you say that to Lonna?” he demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You said you’d have no trouble finding our son. That’s bullshit. You don’t know who this nurse was, or what she’s going to do with him. You filled my wife with false hope, you crummy son-of-a-bitch.”

It was common for parents of abducted children to fly into rages, and siphon their anger against the very people who were trying to help them. It was part of coping, and something I’d experienced many times.

“You need to calm down,” I said.

Jimmie cocked his fist. “What I need to do is punch your lights out.”

He looked strong enough to kill me. I didn’t want to pull my gun and risk shooting him. He was a victim, and needed to be treated that way. I stepped toward him with my arms still at my sides. “What I told you and your wife was true. I
will
find your baby.”

“How can you know that?” he bellowed. “That nurse might have driven Martin down to the Miami airport, and sold him to some couple that’s already halfway around the world. I’ve seen those shows on TV—people steal kids and sell them all the time. It’s a big business. How can you stand there and tell me that didn’t happen to my son?”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his whole body was shaking. I decided to tell him the truth. It was going to hurt, but I had to tell him anyway.

“People don’t buy sick babies,” I said.

Jimmie blinked, then blinked again. He lowered his fist.

“They don’t?” he replied.

“There’s no market for them.”

“There isn’t?”

“None whatsoever. People who traffic in children look for strong, healthy babies to steal. That’s their main criterion. Your son is sick and needs attention and medicine for his lungs. That rules him out.”

“If people don’t steal sick babies, then why did the nurse steal Martin?”

“We won’t know for certain until we track her down. But I can give you my best guess. The woman who stole your son wants a baby of her own, but is incapable of having one. That was her motivation. She bought a nurse’s uniform, and started visiting maternity wards at different hospitals to become familiar with the procedures. She’s been planning this for a long time.”

“But Martin’s
sick
.”

“That’s right. And because he’s sick, he had to be moved around the floor to get his medicine. That meant different nurses got to put their hands on him. That let this woman step in, and grab him.”

Jimmie stared at me. The rage had left his body, leaving a scared and bewildered young man. I stepped toward him, and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.

“Now I get it,” he said.