The Baby Thief (36 page)

“Of course. It’s been a couple of hours.”

Damn him. He knew she wanted to stay down as long as possible. “You get her shaved and prepped and ready first.”

“No, you get her ready. I have to prepare a culture for the ovary.”

Elizabeth got to her feet. After an embryo transfer in the ARC, the women went home after a few hours. She would just have to take her chances like everyone else.

She pushed through the double doors into the surgery area, seeing her sister for the first time since that day in the clinic. She was so pretty, even with the abrasion on her temple. Jenna was pale now. Her outdoor glow and robust look were gone. She would recover quickly, though, Elizabeth told herself.

She unbuttoned Jenna’s nightgown to expose her torso. She stared at the paralyzed woman, so similar to herself. A long shiver rippled down her spine. Jenna had the same round high breasts, long torso, and wide hips. Did they have their mother’s body? Did they look like her?

Elizabeth’s hands trembled as she shaved Jenna’s flat lower abdomen. It wasn’t fair. Her sister had two working ovaries, while her own insides were a mess of dysfunctional scar tissue. Jenna was a good person. She wouldn’t mind sharing. If the situation had been reversed, Elizabeth would have donated oocytes to Jenna. She was sure of it.

She applied a topical disinfectant, stroking Jenna’s abdomen absentmindedly. Why had their mother abandoned them? Did she have any idea what she’d done? The selfish woman had caused all of this with her irresponsible behavior. How different their lives would have been if she’d kept them together. She and Jenna might have been sitting in a restaurant, having lunch, and talking about their children.

Liar thief barren whore
. Jenna’s voice joined the others in her head.

Elizabeth jumped back from the table.

“Ready to scrub in?” David was watching from across the room, an unreadable expression on his face.

Elizabeth nodded and they moved together toward the sink. After a minute of ritual hand washing, David cleared his throat. “This clears my debt, Liz. All of it. Even the money.”

“You feel differently about me now, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what I feel right now except stress. I want this woman out of my life as soon as possible.”

“You’re attracted to her, aren’t you? I saw the way you looked at her.” Elizabeth was surprised by how much it bothered her. David had always had other lovers. Her sister was different.

David picked up a pair of latex gloves and grinned. “She looks so much like you, how can I not be?”

Liar thief whore
. Jenna’s voice grew strong.

Elizabeth bit back her anger as she too pulled on gloves. David was such a charmer. That’s why the checks poured into the church every month. Little old ladies who’d heard him speak once at a garden meeting would send him money forever. He would probably even weasel more money out of her in the future. Maybe not. Once she had a child, everything would be different. She would be different. She wouldn’t need David in the same way.

They stood on either side of the operating table, and David verbally walked her through the procedure. Elizabeth felt nervous. This was different from sucking a few oocytes through a tiny incision. David was going to cut through muscle and tissue to remove an ovary. Elizabeth hadn’t done any cutting since her intern days. The scalpel glinted under the bright fluorescent lighting. David pressed it hard against Jenna’s pale flesh.

As a thin line of blood began to show, Danielle burst through the double doors. “Reverend! There’s a stranger outside the church. He’s carrying a bat and sneaking around! I saw him from the tower.”

Chapter 48

4:20 p.m.

Eric worked his way around to the side of the huge stone building. Going in through the front door did not seem like a good idea. He could hear children on the far side, laughing and shouting as if on a playground despite the chill in the air. Three women had come out through the double front doors while he hid behind a tractor and planned his approach. The women had chatted and carried Bibles as if on their way to church. This was a church, he reminded himself. He had no proof that his attacker or the elusive Dr. Carmichael—or Jenna for that matter—was even here. He could only hope.

He moved along the outside of the building, staying as close to the wall as he could. Low-growing shrubs and thick patches of weeds created a natural barrier. Eric struggled through the brush, searching for an opening, even a small ventilation hole, but the wall was solid. His chest wound throbbed, and it hurt to breathe deeply. Eric moved along low to the ground, panting like a dog in hot weather. When the shrubs cleared in a small patch, he took the opportunity to lean against the stone to rest.

The wall gave way and Eric stumbled through the opening, slamming into an interior wall, which was—fortunately—made of sheet rock instead of brick. It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the shadowy darkness of his surroundings before he noted a narrow slit of light from a spot a few feet away. The dim whiteness illuminated a row of pants, sweaters, and light-colored shirts hanging from an overhead rod.

He was in a closet.

He moved cautiously through the doorway, bat poised and ready. The room was narrow, like dorms at a university, with only a bed, nightstand, and large chest of drawers. Cautiously, Eric moved past the foot of the bed to the wooden door. It was locked.

From the inside. All he had to do was turn the dead bolt. The next room was slightly larger, containing desks, file cabinets, and a computer setup complete with printer and modem. Eric wanted to snoop around, especially in the computer, but his sense of urgency had grown. The idea that Jenna was here and needed his help compelled him forward. The place was strangely quiet, the voices of women and children no longer present. A deep sense of dread weighted his legs, slowing him down. Ever so slowly, Eric edged the next door open and peered through a crack into what appeared to be the pulpit of a small, crude chapel.

A middle-aged woman and a young girl sat in the second pew, heads bowed in prayer. Beyond them, the room was empty. Eric stepped into the foyer and lowered the bat to his side. He didn’t want to frighten the innocent, didn’t want their screams to alert the bastards who ran the place. The two became aware of him as he passed, but only stared, frightened and silent. Eric kept his own silence. He wished Jackson were with him. Jackson and his Sig Sauer.

The chapel opened into a wide central room with a spiral staircase in the center. Eric realized it led to the watchtower he’d seen from the car. A group of women were gathered around the base of the stairs, talking excitedly. They were all different ages but dressed similarly in long skirts and sweaters. A silence fell over the cluster as he approached.

“Who are you?” a thin, dark-haired woman asked, voice trembling.

“Eric Troutman.” What else should he say? Would the truth put Jenna at risk?

“Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for someone. A woman named Jenna. Is she here?”

The whispered, excited conversation resumed in full force with many glances in his direction. Eric waited nervously, watching for Grafton or Carmichael.

The dark-haired woman came forward and spoke in a whisper. “Are you her husband?”

“No. Just a good friend.”

“Why are you carrying the bat?”

“Self-protection. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to get Jenna and leave.”

“You should leave her in the church until she’s better. It’s the best place for her right now.”

“Better?” Eric’s stomach flip-flopped. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has a drug–” The woman stopped and her eyes and mouth popped open in disbelief. Eric turned, hearing the voice and seeing the man at the same time.

“Shut up, Rachel!” The man who’d stabbed him two nights earlier in his own kitchen was here now, holding a small gun, and looking extremely annoyed. The women’s chatter stopped.

“Why do you have a gun, Zeke?” Rachel asked bravely.

“I said, shut up!” He pointed the gun at Eric’s head. “Put the bat down and move slowly toward the back stairs.”

Eric laid the bat on the floor, never taking his eyes off Grafton. The man was muscular but skinny and looked to be in his early fifties. Eric had at least forty pounds on him. Without the gun, he should have been able to take him down easily. But this man had almost killed him before. Eric’s knees felt weak and his heart pounded against his chest wound. He stepped to the left, hands out from his sides.

“Go about your business, all of you!” Grafton thundered. The women scattered like frightened squirrels. Only Rachel stood her ground. The ex-con ignored her, eyeballing Eric and waving the gun at a dark opening in the wall.

Eric went where he was told, the stink of his own sweat permeating the narrow hallway. In front of him were descending stairs. What in God’s name was down there? Would Grafton shoot him in the back now that they were alone? Or would he find out what had become of Jenna before they killed him? His death seemed certain. The fact that he hadn’t already been killed seemed like a small miracle due to the presence of the church women.

“Move.” The gun poked him in the back.

Eric moved.

At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretched out with a series of rooms off to the left. The first area was open and looked like an examining room in a medical clinic. Eric heard voices from deep inside, a man and a woman shouting at each other. The presence of a woman gave him hope. Maybe he would survive. Eric stopped. The woman sounded familiar. Grafton prodded him in the back with the gun. “In there.”

Eric pushed through the double swinging doors into a large room lined with stainless steel counters and overhead fluorescent lights. It appeared to be a crowded medical lab. A wide swinging door to the right lead to another area from which Eric again heard shouting. He assumed that was where they were going. He moved slowly forward, scanning the counters for something that could be used as a weapon. Microscopes, glass tubes, a small refrigerator. Nothing sharp or handy.

The gun still pressed against his back, Eric pushed through the single swinging door. The third area was bright, sparse, and clearly being used as an operating room. The man and woman, one on each side of a narrow table, stopped shouting and turned to stare. A white sheet covered what was obviously a patient lying between them.

Eric recognized Carmichael immediately. He’d seen him get into the van with Jenna the day she disappeared, then he’d seen a picture of him just days ago. It took a moment longer to realize the woman was Dr. Demauer, whom he’d met briefly in the hospital.

“Damn it, Zeke! Why did you bring him in here?” Except for the blush of anger in his cheeks, Carmichael’s pale skin seemed almost blue under the fluorescent lights.

What kind of illegal medical practice were they running down here? And what had they done to Jenna? Eric felt sick.

Zeke stepped out from behind him, keeping the gun aimed at his head. “What else should I have done with him? There’s a church full of women and children upstairs.”

“I know we have to deal with him, but not here in my clinic.” Carmichael seemed to be fighting for control.

“What in the hell are you guys doing?” Zeke finally noticed their activity. “You’re supposed to be getting ready for a road trip!”

Eric inched forward, straining to see the patient.

“Give him a shot of ketamine!” Demauer screeched at Carmichael.

“Good idea.” Carmichael moved away from the operating table and stepped briskly toward what looked like a small office in back.

The patient’s face was turned away from him, but Eric’s eyes widened when he saw her long, honey-colored braid. It was Jenna! And she was alive! She must be; he could see a steady breathing movement under the sheet.

Forgetting his wounds, Eric threw himself sideways, knocking Grafton into a wall. The man’s head smacked against the tile-over-stone with a dull ringing sound and he slid to the floor. The gun dropped from the ex-con’s hand and skidded under the operating table. Before Eric could dive for it, Demauer bent down and picked up the weapon. She pointed it at Eric, her hands shaking so badly the gun seemed to be alive.

“Don’t make me hurt you. Let David give you the ketamine and everyone will be all right. You won’t even remember what happened.” Demauer’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Oh, shit. He heard Carmichael moving behind him, but Eric didn’t take his eyes off Demauer. He couldn’t just stand there and let Carmichael drug him. The lady doctor had obviously lost touch with reality, but did she have the nerve to shoot him? Would he and Jenna die anyway?

He felt the needle press against the knife wound in his bicep. Eric reacted blindly to the pain, jerking his arm upward and smashing his fist into Carmichael’s face. The doctor dropped the syringe and screamed like a child as blood poured from his nose.

Eric spun back toward Demauer. She hadn’t moved during the brief fight and her eyes held a faraway look. Maybe he could take the gun from her. She seemed to be fading in and out. Maybe not. If she was that far gone, she might kill him without hesitation. Where was the syringe? Eric looked around, not seeing it.

“Hey, tough guy.” Grafton was on his feet with a scalpel poised above Jenna’s throat. “Any more bullshit from you and this woman dies. Now lie down on the floor and let the doctor give you a shot.”

Eric couldn’t move.

“You think I won’t kill her?” Grafton drew the scalpel lightly across Jenna’s throat, and a thin line of blood appeared.

“Don’t you dare hurt my sister!” Demauer swung the gun toward Grafton. They faced each other on opposite sides of the table, Jenna between them, silent under the white sheet.

Sister?
Was the woman completely insane?
Eric searched desperately for the syringe out of the corner of his eye.

“Liz, give me the gun.” Carmichael moved toward Demauer while keeping his distance from Eric. He still had one hand pressed to his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood.