The Baby Snatchers (5 page)

Cam nodded, his gut still heavy with dread.
As far as he could see, there was nothing good about a teenage girl
who might have been kicked out of home and now had a baby in tow,
but maybe he was reading too much into it? Maybe it was like Bryce
had said. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as it sounded.

There was only one way to find out.

Present day

Dear Diary,

‘
We’re all put on this earth for a
purpose.’ It’s what Matron kept saying to me. It wasn’t the first
time I’d heard those words. The nuns at my high school had said
them, too. It was like they were supposed to instil some kind of
fervor in the students to work harder and to excel; to seek out our
higher purpose; fulfil our destiny.

Now, so many years later, I don’t know if I
believe the words or not, but one thing is for sure: I’ve dedicated
my life to finding out. From that very first moment, so long ago,
when Matron pulled me aside and whispered to me of her plan, I was
sure I’d found my purpose and I’ve spent many years striving to get
it right. I only hope my efforts will one day be recognized.

Not everyone will agree with my methods, but
no one will argue with the outcome. Each time, I did what was
necessary and right… And THAT I do believe…

* * *

Georgie stowed her handbag in her locker and
made her way to the staff tea room. A handful of nurses rostered on
the morning shift sat around a kitchen table, most of them holding
steaming cups. Nodding and smiling in greeting, she went to the
small counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. Adding cream and
sugar, she took a grateful sip and sighed in satisfaction.

“Ah, there’s nothing quite like that first
taste of coffee,” she murmured and took a seat at the table.

Her mother glanced up from the newspaper
spread before her and frowned. “You look a little tired, Georgina.
I hope you got some sleep?”

“Yes, but it was fitful. I kept thinking
about Cynthia Dawson. I hope Cheryl or someone else from FACS gets
here in time. Did we have any patients come in overnight? Is there
still a rush for the bed?”

Her mother shook her head. “No, thank
goodness, but we have four women due in today. Whether they go into
labor on their due date is anybody’s guess, but we still need to be
prepared.” She glanced around the room at the other nurses and then
returned her attention to Georgie. “It won’t be an issue for
Cynthia Dawson. She’ll be discharged this morning.”

“Marjorie!” Georgie protested. “You can’t do
that! We need to keep her here at least until she’s been seen by
FACS. Cheryl promised me she’d drop by to see her today. We can’t
let the poor girl leave with a new baby without doing something to
help.”

Marjorie’s expression turned grim. Slowly
and methodically, she folded the paper and then, with a heavy sigh,
she turned to Georgie. “I’m sorry, Georgina, you’ve misunderstood
me. Cynthia Dawson’s baby died last night. It was very sad and
unexpected, but as you know, these things can happen. The girl is
understandably upset, but otherwise in good health. She’ll be
discharged this morning.”

Georgie’s heart pounded. She stared at her
mother in shock, trying hard to take it in. Cynthia had given birth
to a healthy little girl. Georgie had run the newborn tests on the
baby herself. They’d all fallen within normal ranges. There had
been no indication there was something wrong, and she’d told the
young mother so. She shook her head, trying to come to terms with
the news the infant was dead.

“H-how… How did it happen?” she
stammered.

Her mother shrugged. “Who knows? The baby
was taken to the nursery late last evening so Mom could get some
sleep. Four hours later, someone checked on the child. She was due
for a feeding. The baby was found in her in the crib, cold and
unresponsive. CPR was performed, but to no avail. We’d lost
her.”

Marjorie’s voice hitched on the final words
and Georgie’s heart clenched in pain. The baby might have only been
a few hours old and Georgie barely knew the little girl’s mom, but
knowing the infant had died so suddenly and without explanation…
This was the part of her job she hated.

“Who was on duty last night?” she asked
quietly.

Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Preliminary
cause of death is SIDS, Georgina. Nobody is attributing blame.”

Anger flared to life inside her. “I’m not
blaming anyone, Marjorie. To the contrary, I wanted to offer my
commiserations to the staff involved. I can’t imagine how they must
feel.”

Her mother’s expression softened marginally.
“Rosemary Lawson and Tammie Sinclair were on duty. Rosemary found
the baby.”

Georgie absorbed the news somberly. “I’ll go
and see Cynthia,” she said, her voice dull. “She must be
distraught. She might have had a tough life, but she loved that
little baby. She would have been a good mom, if she’d been given
the chance.”

Marjorie sent her a pointed look. “She’s
sixteen, Georgina. What sort of life could she have given a child?
I hate to say it, but the death of this baby might be a blessing in
disguise.”

“No!” Georgie protested on a gasp. “How can
you say such a thing? It’s not our place to judge.” A couple of the
other nurses nodded in agreement, looking just as distressed as
Georgie. Marjorie eyed each of them solemnly.

“I want you all to listen to me. We work in
a hospital. Not everyone gets to go home. It’s tough, and every
single time it happens, it’s hard to accept, but we have to because
we’re nurses and that’s what we do. We try our very best to help
the sick get well, but sometimes, no matter what we do, it doesn’t
work out that way.”

“That baby wasn’t sick, Marjorie,” Georgie
said quietly, staring at her mother.

Her mother held her gaze and replied just as
quietly. “Apparently, she was.”

Tears burned behind Georgie’s eyes, but she
frantically blinked them away. What her mother said was right. They
were professionals—nurses who gave it everything they had—but every
now and then, they lost one.

The thought of little Josephine, dying in
her crib, all alone, filled Georgie with so much sadness, she
wanted to find a quiet place to cry, but this wasn’t about her. She
had to pull herself together and tend to Cynthia’s needs. As awful
as Georgie felt, Cynthia had to be feeling a hundred times worse.
It was up to Georgie to give her comfort and understanding and
whatever else the poor girl required. She refocused on her
mother.

“Did anyone hear from Cynthia’s
brother?”

Marjorie frowned. “I thought you were going
to look into that? I assumed he would have been in last night, if
he was interested at all.”

“I did try to contact him, but I haven’t
heard anything back.”

“I haven’t seen any visitors this morning,
but I guess it’s early yet,” one of the other nurses offered.

Georgie acknowledged her comment with a nod.
As soon as she’d spoken to Cynthia and offered her condolences,
she’d call Chanel and see what she’d learned. With a heavy sigh,
she pushed away from the table and headed out the door.

Georgie found Cynthia in a bed that was
placed against the far wall. The curtains were drawn, shielding her
from the rest of the ward. Sliding the curtains open just enough so
that she could slip inside, Georgie approached the girl who was
curled up in a fetal position on the bed.

“Cynthia?” she called softly and laid a hand
gently on the teen’s shoulder. Cynthia tensed and curled herself
tighter, covering her head with her hands.

“Cynthia, it’s Georgie. I’m the midwife who
was here yesterday. I helped you through your labor.”

A torrent of sobs shook the young girl’s
shoulders and were quickly followed by a harsh gasp of pain.
Cynthia lifted her head momentarily and stared at Georgie with eyes
that were dark and desolate. Tears streamed down the young girl’s
cheeks and dripped onto the bed. Georgie couldn’t remember when
she’d seen anyone looking more wretched.

“M-my b-baby! M-my J-Josephine! They t-told
m-me she was d-dead! You told me she was fine. What h-happened?”
Another howl of pain twisted the girl’s face and she once again
buried her head in her hands.

Feeling more helpless than she ever had in
her life, Georgie perched on the edge of the bed and stroked the
girl’s matted hair. Even after a shower, the faint stench of body
odor and ingrained dirt hovered in the air. Georgie’s heart broke
at the thought of the life Cynthia had led—and more than likely
would continue to lead if help and better fortune didn’t come her
way.

“
Why
? Please, nurse! Tell me
why
!” The anguished cry was muffled by the bedclothes, but
Georgie’s eyes filled with tears. She had no answers for the young
girl and the knowledge pierced her heart.

Indeed, why did some babies suffer sudden
and unexplained deaths?
That question had been asked many times
in the past, and would no doubt be asked again. Regardless, each
time it was howled or screamed or gasped or whispered, it was
always difficult to answer.

“Sometimes things happen,” she whispered.
“They can’t be anticipated. I’m so sorry you lost Josephine,
Cynthia.” With her lips pressed tightly together in an effort to
stem her emotions, Georgie murmured more words of reassurance and
continued to offer comfort with every stroke she gave Cynthia’s
hair.

Gradually, the girl’s sobs quietened to
hiccups. Georgie stood and went into the nearby bathroom. Taking a
washcloth, she dampened it under the faucet and came back to where
Cynthia lay. Wiping it across her face, she did her best to soothe
the pain away, knowing that nothing would remove the feeling of
emptiness and devastation, but doing all she could.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for a patient by the
name of Cynthia Dawson. Can you tell me where she is?”

The low rumble of a male voice sounded
somewhere in the open ward. Georgie set the cloth aside and pulled
the curtains back. A man stood a few yards away, talking to one of
the other nurses. At Georgie’s approach, the nurse looked up,
relieved.

“You’ll need to speak to Georgie Whitely.
She’s the nurse looking after Cynthia today.”

The man turned his attention to Georgie and
lifted a single dark eyebrow in silent query. Her heart skipped a
beat. He was tall and broad shouldered and looked about her age.
His hazel eyes captured hers for a heart-stopping moment and then
dipped lower, raking her slowly from head to toe.

Georgie tensed reflexively, even as heat
trailed in the wake of his gaze. Her nipples tightened. As if aware
of her contradictory emotions, a mocking expression glinted in his
mesmerizing eyes.

He was good looking enough to warrant a
second look by any woman with a pulse and his casual air of
confidence told her he was well aware of his sex appeal. Annoyed at
her body’s unwanted reaction to his attractiveness, she cleared her
throat.

“I’m Georgie Whitely. I’m a midwife on this
ward. How can I help you?”

The gleam of amusement left his face. “I’m
looking for my sister, Cynthia Dawson. I’ve been told she’s a
patient here.”

Georgie’s fists clenched reflexively.
So,
she hadn’t misheard.
He was looking for Cynthia—his sister. As
his words registered in her brain, she swallowed a surprised gasp.
Chanel had obviously spoken to Bryce.

“You must be Cameron Dawson,” she said and
was pleased her voice remained steady. At least the poor girl now
had a family member to help her through her grief. Georgie couldn’t
help but feel relieved. At the same time, she wondered where he’d
been over the past ten years.

From the look and cut of his charcoal-gray
suit, crisp, white business shirt and tastefully matching maroon
tie, he’d done well for himself somewhere along the line.
Why
hadn’t he shared some of his good fortune with his little
sister?
She didn’t know, but was more than curious to find
out.

“Yes, I am. How do you know?”

His question broke into her thoughts and she
forced herself to pay attention. “Cynthia gave me your name last
night when I asked her about her family. You’re a police officer,
right?”

“Yes, I’m a detective stationed at the City
of Sydney Police Station. I’ve been there nearly three years.”

“Just as Cynthia said.”

He frowned as if about to say something, but
then appeared to change his mind. Georgie took his arm and led him
out of earshot of Cynthia’s bed.

“Where are we going?”

Georgie put a finger to her lips. Shooting
her another suspicious look, but taking her cue, he followed along
beside her in silence. Releasing his arm, she entered a small room
off the ward that was used as the patient kitchen. Grateful to find
it empty, she waited for him to enter and then moved to close the
door.

“What’s going on? Why all the secrecy? I’d
like to see my sister.”

Georgie nodded. She could understand the
confusion and mistrust that now filled his eyes. “Mr Dawson, I’m
afraid I have some very sad news.”

The man’s face turned ashen. “Oh, Christ,
please don’t tell me it’s too late! I haven’t seen her since she
was a little girl and now that she’s here, in Sydney…” His voice
filled with urgency. “Please, nurse, tell me she’s all right! What
happened? I need to know what happened.”

“Your sister’s fine, Mr Dawson, at least,
she will be in time. It’s her baby I’m talking about. Cynthia gave
birth to a little girl yesterday afternoon. I was present for the
delivery. Unfortunately, for reasons we can’t explain, the baby
died in her sleep last night.”

Shock replaced the look of desperation that
had previously clouded his expression and he reared back.
“
Died
? What the hell do you mean, she died? Was there
something wrong with her?”