The Baby Snatchers (9 page)

Once again, Georgie interrupted his
thoughts. “It’d better go. I have babies due for a feeding.”

“Of course,” he replied and then remembered
his earlier question. “I was wondering if you could tell me whether
Cynthia has been tested for STDS? I’m concerned because of her
lifestyle and…”

His voice petered off in embarrassment, but
Georgie appeared to take his question in her stride.

“Of course. You have reason to be concerned.
And yes, to answer your question, it’s hospital policy to run blood
tests for STDs. Cynthia’s results came back clear. It’s only the
HIV and Hepatitis results that take longer. She’ll need to be
retested in three months and then again at six months, to be
sure.”

Cam compressed his lips, but nodded. “Thank
you. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“No problem. I guess I’ll see you in a
couple of days.”

With a surge of anticipation and heartfelt
thanks, Cam smiled and ended the call.

Holt strode toward him. “The premier’s
waiting downstairs. I’ll bring him up and put him in Interview Room
Two.”

Cam’s pleasant thoughts scattered like the
wind and once again, he focused on the job at hand and got down to
business.

Cam stared across at the premier and tried
hard to hide his disbelief. The portly, balding leader of the State
Government got redder and redder in the face as he continued to
blister Cam’s ears.

“I’m telling you, Detective Sergeant Dawson,
there’s something evil going on in that hospital! My grandson was
born perfectly healthy. I was right outside the birthing suite when
he drew his first breath. My daughter spent hours holding him and
marvelling over every little thing. Both the midwife and the doctor
gave him the all clear. When I left that hospital a little after
eight, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. And now he’s
dead—from SIDS, apparently. At least, that’s what they’re telling
us. I don’t believe it for a minute.”

Premier John Jamison’s legendary piercing
gaze settled with uncomfortable intensity on Cameron who did his
best not to squirm. So far, the man had insisted the hospital was
involved in everything from stealing innocent babies and selling
them overseas to outright murder. At the moment, he appeared to
have returned to his earlier conspiracy theory that staff members
of the maternity ward were involved in procuring children to sell
on the black market.

“It’s big business, Detective,” the premier
continued matter-of-factly. “I’ve read about what happens in
countries like the Philippines. Everything’s up for sale, including
children. Why would Australia be any different? My grandson was a
normal, healthy newborn. The next day, they said he was dead.”

“Did you see his body?”

“No. I wasn’t there when they brought my
daughter the news. They told her very early in the morning.”

“What about your daughter? Did she have time
with her deceased child? I understand many hospitals allow that
kind of thing.”

“Not as far as I know. Danielle’s
understandably in shock. She can’t remember a lot of what was said
even though it only happened two days ago. She’s still having
trouble with the whole thing. I had to call my doctor and have him
prescribe something to help calm her down. She’s been
inconsolable.” Once again, he turned his steely eyed gaze on
Cameron.

“I demand that something be done, Detective.
I want that hospital closed down and the management arrested!”

Cam sucked in a deep breath and exhaled on a
heavy sigh. He knew all about supporting a loved one through the
loss of a child, but this circumstance still didn’t mean that the
hospital was to blame. The premier’s demands to shut down the
largest and most prestigious hospital in the country—based on not a
scrap of evidence of wrongdoing—was almost laughable, but Cam knew
better than to give the man any indication his concerns weren’t
being taken seriously.

“Mr Jamison,” he said quietly. “How old is
your daughter?”

The man looked down at his hands, where they
were twisted in his lap. “She’s eighteen.”

Cam hid his surprise and asked his next
question. “Do you think she’d be well enough to come to the station
and make a statement? With all due respect, you’ve admitted you
weren’t there when she was told about her baby’s death. It might
help clarify a few matters if I can speak with her directly.”

The premier kept his gaze averted. “I told
you, she isn’t handling things very well. She’s still grieving
deeply for the loss of her child. We all are.”

“I understand, Premier, but if you want me
to investigate, I still need to speak with her while her memory is
fresh. The longer we wait, the more likely she’ll forget certain
details and it could be something important.”

This time, a dark red flush started at the
premier’s neck and spread across his face. His fidgeting got worse
and Cam couldn’t help but wonder why he appeared to be so
uncomfortable.

“The thing is,” the premier began,
“Danielle’s not the most reliable of witnesses. She’s… She’s had a
drug problem for the past few years. Her mother and I have been
doing what we can to find her help and get her off the stuff, but
it’s been an uphill battle. The truth is, right now she doesn’t
want to get clean.”

Cam stared at the premier in surprise. He’d
had no idea the politician’s daughter was a drug addict. He shook
his head in silent commiseration. It just went to show, no matter
where someone fit in society’s hierarchy, no family was immune to
stress and heartache. He could only be grateful Cynthia hadn’t gone
down that track.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Mr Jamison
and I’m very sorry to hear about the difficulties your family have
faced, but I really need to speak with Danielle and find out what
she knows. I assume there was a funeral?”

“Yes.”

“Who made the arrangements?”

“I did.”

“Where was it held?”

“A staff member of the hospital gave
Danielle a business card with the name of a funeral home printed on
it. The
Peaceful Passing Funeral Parlor and Crematorium
on
the corner of Booth Street and Parramatta Road. We held a private
service on site. The baby was cremated.”

Cam nodded. Cynthia had done the same thing
and at the very same venue. At the time, Cam hadn’t thought to ask
her about her choice of funeral home. Now, he could only assume
she’d also received a recommendation from the hospital. He admired
their thoughtful and sensitive approach during such a difficult
situation. It was kind of them to smooth the way at such a
distressing time. Many young patients, lost in their grief,
wouldn’t know where to start or even to have anywhere to turn.

Cam sighed softly. Sometimes life just
handed out shit and you had to deal with it as best you could.
There was no other way around it. Wishing he had something better
to offer the premier, he leaned his elbows on the desk and shot the
man a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Premier, and I
wish I could help you with this, but until I speak with Danielle, I
don’t even know for sure the true facts. You’ve admitted you
weren’t there when the baby died. You think your daughter wasn’t
given time with her son after he died, but you’re not certain of
that, either.” He dragged in a breath and continued, keeping his
gaze on the premier’s, trying to make the man see.

“I’d appreciate if you’d call me so we can
set up a meeting—when Danielle is feeling up to it. I understand
she’s still grieving and her memory might not be up to scratch, but
unfortunately, I do need to hear her side of the story before I can
proceed.”

The premier’s gaze narrowed and another
angry flush climbed up his neck and spread across his face. “So,
until then, you’re going to do nothing. Is that what you’re telling
me?”

Cam bit back a sigh.
What the hell did
the man expect of him?
He opened his mouth to pose the curt
question and then closed it again. Aggravating the premier wouldn’t
get him anywhere and would only exacerbate the man’s already raw
nerves.

In exasperation, he said, “If you like, I
can speak with Deborah Healy. She’s the General Manager of the
Sydney Harbour Hospital. I’ll see what she knows about your
grandson’s death.”

“Ha! Deborah Healy!” he scoffed. “After
everything that’s gone down at her hospital over the past few
years, I’m surprised she’s still in a job. Besides, I’ve already
spoken to her. You’re wasting your time. She looked me in the eye,
offered a few meaningless platitudes and then toed the party
line.”

The premier’s voice cracked with emotion, as
if the situation had finally gotten to him. Suddenly the tension
went out of his shoulders and he leaned over the interview table
with his head in his hands. A harsh sob escaped him, quickly
followed by several more. Cam glanced around him, feeling
helpless.

What the hell was he supposed to do
now?
The State’s leader was crying like a baby right in front
of him, with no apparent end to his distress in sight. Where was
the man’s assistant or someone else who could come to his aid? Cam
didn’t have a clue how to go about offering him comfort.

The door to the interview room swung open
and Holt filled the space. Cam didn’t bother to hide his relief.
“Superintendent, it’s good to see you. Is there something I can
help you with?”

“You’re needed in the squad room, Detective.
I’ll finish with Mr Jamison.”

Cam flashed his boss a look of gratitude and
got the hell out of the room. Flinging himself down at his desk, he
replayed the scene in his head. Though what he’d said to the
premier was correct, the thought of another dead baby sent a
trickle of unease down his spine. His niece had died a fortnight
ago. Now, a second baby had died.
How many more had there
been?

The thought was so sudden and awful, he
didn’t know where it had come from. It was followed quickly by
another:
Had Cynthia been given time with her dead baby?
The
day he’d reunited with her, a matter of hours after Josephine’s
death, it hadn’t occurred to him to enquire after her child. He’d
still been struggling to come to terms with her discovery in a
Sydney hospital and the fact that she’d recently given birth.

Her surprise and joy over their reunion had
dissipated all too soon and her grief over the loss of her child
returned with a vengeance. It was all he could do to arrange for
her discharge from the hospital and settle her in his home. He
hadn’t dared ask her any questions beyond what was necessary, for
fear of upsetting her. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder once again
if she’d been given the opportunity to say good-bye to her
baby.

His sense of unease grew stronger. He had
nothing whatsoever to base the feeling on, but he knew with
increasing certainty that he’d have to look closer at the
occurrence of newborn deaths at the Sydney Harbour Hospital.

Earlier, he’d been eager to dismiss the
premier’s claims as farcical, but the more he thought about it, the
more he felt he owed it to Cynthia and the premier to dig a little
deeper and be certain that what they’d been told was the truth.
Then all of them could put the matter to rest and focus on the
future.

He hadn’t asked the premier what ward his
daughter had been admitted to or the names of any of the staff
members she’d come into contact with, but Cam could always obtain
that information from the hospital records—if it came to that. He
only hoped it hadn’t happened on Ward Seven and that Georgie
Whitely wasn’t involved. Losing two babies in as many weeks would
be devastating for anyone, let alone someone who cared for her
patients as deeply as she did.

He remembered her recent promise to help his
sister. It was just another example of her kindness and compassion.
With a soft sigh, he reached for the phone that perched in one
corner of his desk and dialed his home number. It rang out. He
dialed again and received the same result.

He cursed quietly under his breath. Either
his sister was asleep, or she couldn’t be bothered answering the
phone. He was depressed by the knowledge that either scenario could
be the reality—yet another reason why he needed to do something
more to penetrate her lethargy.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, he forced
the problem of his sister’s mental status from his mind. Despite
what the premier had said about Deborah Healy, Cameron had a
healthy respect for the general manager. It was true her hospital
had come under fire in recent years. One of the hospital’s
reputable doctor’s had been found guilty of domestic abuse, but Cam
didn’t lay the blame for this at Deborah Healy’s feet. No one knew
what went on behind other people’s closed doors. He’d been in the
police service less than six months when he’d realized that.

There was of course, the matter of the head
of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit being arrested on
charges of human-tissue harvesting and several other related
offenses. The fact the doctor had been using Sydney Harbour
Hospital patients for his tissue supply had been an awful discovery
and had been given serious air time in the media. And then there
was the doctor who’d been playing God and murdering patients. The
hospital and the general manager had rightly come under fire, but
still…

Being the head of such a large, prestigious
hospital was a task of mammoth proportions. She was responsible for
the actions of thousands of staff members, from the cleaners and
kitchen staff, right through to the head surgeons. She was expected
to be aware of each and every little thing that went on in her
hospital, but was it really feasible that one person could find
enough hours in the day to do so?

Cam shook his head, feeling grim. There was
no doubt about it: Deborah Healy had a tough gig. It was a job he
wouldn’t want for all the money in the world. But he’d told the
premier he’d talk to the general manager about the sudden and
unexpected death of Jamison’s grandson, so he reached for the phone
again and this time, dialed the number for the hospital. It was
answered after the first ring.