The Baby Thief (17 page)

“Don’t go.”

He scrambled across the bed and playfully grabbed Tamara around the waist. She didn’t respond. But she didn’t struggle either. Carmichael began to massage her breasts.

The shrill ringing of the phone startled them both.

“Get your clothes off and get back in bed,” he whispered. “I’ll just be a minute.” Carmichael received few calls, but they were all too important to miss.

He hurried to the desk, scooping his shirt off the floor on the way. Except for the kitchen, the rooms in the compound were always cool, heated only by centrally located furnaces in each building. The phone rang twice more while he struggled into the long sleeves.

“David Carmichael speaking.”

“Mr. Carmichael, it’s Walt Frunmeyer with First Pacific Continental Bank. We need to meet sometime this week to talk about your loans.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I’d rather not discuss this over the phone.”

“It’s not convenient for me to see you this week.” Carmichael thought of Jenna and how long she would be in the clinic. “Next week is hectic too. What about later in the month?”

“It can’t wait.” Frunmeyer’s voice lost its well-trained civility. “You’re eight months behind on your payment schedule. We’ve granted every extension possible. You have thirty days to get current on your loan, or we’ll repossess both the property you used as collateral and the equipment you bought with the loan. Good day.”

The dial tone buzzed in his ear. Stunned, Carmichael stood for a moment, phone in hand, penis shriveling.

“Is everything all right, David?”

“Fine.” He slammed the phone down. That arrogant son of a bitch! They would never get his DNA cycler or his Olympus microscope. Never!

Carmichael moved quickly to find his pants. Finances had reached emergency status, and he had to do something immediately. His options were limited and mostly unpleasant, but he couldn’t risk having the local sheriff show up to run him off the property. Not right now with Jenna in the clinic.

“David?” Tamara sat up, a quilt pressed against her breasts.

“I have work to do now. I’m sorry. Will you please get dressed and leave?” He sounded cold despite his effort not to, and Tamara was hurt. He could feel her distress like a presence in the room. He didn’t have time to deal with her. “Let it go, Tamara. You know I love you.”

They dressed in silence. Carmichael moved to his desk and clicked on a light, waiting for Tamara to leave before he picked up the phone.

A polite female voice answered in the middle of the second ring. “JB Pharmaceuticals, can you hold please?”

“No, I need–”

Canned music cut him off. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He had to stay calm. His past dealings with the Seattle drug company had not been a complete success. Getting a check out of them in the next thirty days would require patience, charm, and a certain amount of butt kissing. Carmichael set the phone down for a moment and stretched, letting the anger flow out his fingertips. He’d picked up the technique in rehab long ago when he’d learned how to live without drugs and alcohol.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“I need to speak with Gerald Akron. Tell him it’s David Carmichael, and it’s urgent.”

“One moment, please.”

The canned music came back, an upbeat instrumental version of a song from the late sixties called Windy. Carmichael set the phone down for another stretch. He could still hear the music, but it was so faint it seemed comical. After a few minutes, Akron came on the line.

Carmichael snatched up the phone. “Thanks for taking my call, Gerald. How have you been?”

“Great, thanks. Now cut to the chase. What’s so urgent?”

“Money, of course.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Why not? I know you’re developing new fertility hormones, and I’ve got the perfect group of women to test them on.”

“We don’t have anything ready for human testing right now.”

“But you’re close, right?” Carmichael’s stomach tightened. A few of the Sisters had developed bad reactions to the experimental hormones he’d tested for JB Pharma.

“Yes, we’re close, but not close enough. Even if the hormone was ready, I wouldn’t pay you to test it again. You know what I’m talking about.”

Carmichael sucked it up and said what the man wanted to hear. “I’ll stick to the recommended doses this time, I promise. And I’ll document everything. Give me another chance. I need twenty thousand by the end of the month.”

Akron laughed. “You’re a dreamer, but you’ve got balls. Or audacity, anyway.”

Carmichael’s fist clenched around the phone. “I’m willing to negotiate.”

Akron laughed again. “Be in my office tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll talk then.”

“I can’t leave the church right–”

The line went dead. He’d been hung up on for the second time in half an hour. Carmichael’s temples pounded. He wanted to smash Akron’s and Frunmeyer’s heads together. He wanted to burn down the bank and everyone in it. More than anything, he wanted a double shot of Wild Turkey, neat. God was testing him to see how much he could handle.

Carmichael fell to his knees in prayer, reciting the first half of Psalm 128.
Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord; that walketh in his ways. For thou shalt eat the labor of thine hands: happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee
.

Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table. Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord
.

Carmichael’s knees cried in agony before he felt calm enough to get up. He limped stiffly to his reading chair and opened his Bible to
Job
. The familiar plight of God’s most faithful servant failed to make him feel better. He was too worried about the church, about what would happen to his followers if the bank took his land or he went to jail for kidnapping. The Sisters were not like Elizabeth. They would not survive on their own, not as a community anyway.

He had no choice but to go to Seattle and convince Akron to give him some money. If there was a chance to save the church he had to take it. Creating a safe place for women to bear and raise healthy children was the work that God had chosen for him. He had been given the skills and the financial means to create heaven on earth for his followers. Carmichael wouldn’t throw it all away because of a greedy bank and its petty rules. He had to have faith. God would take care of the church while he was away for one day. With Zeke and Rachel’s assistance, nothing would go wrong with Jenna while he was in Seattle. What could happen in twenty-four hours?

He bought a ticket online for a flight that evening, then went to look for Zeke.

* * *

Zeke was reading the latest issue of
Boating
when Carmichael knocked on his door. He quickly stuffed the magazine into his top drawer. He had no reason to hide the publication—the Reverend knew of his interest in boats—but Zeke was secretive and impulsive by nature. Those impulses sometimes landed him in trouble, but they often saved his ass too. Either way, he was powerless to control them.

“Just a sec.” Zeke glanced around his stark quarters before moving the few steps to the door. Carmichael had been in his room several times before to pray, and it always made Zeke uncomfortable. He opened the door slightly. “What’s up, Reverend?”

“We need to talk. Will you come to my office?”

“Sure.” Zeke stepped out, locking the door behind him.

The hallway was busy with females of all ages moving from one activity to another. Classes and chores were over for the afternoon, but a steady downpour kept everyone inside. Almost every door they passed was open. It amazed Zeke that even in their living quarters where the women went to read or sleep, the doors were rarely closed. The Reverend passed the central spiral staircase leading up to the lookout tower and headed toward the back of the compound. Zeke had thought Carmichael meant his main office near the chapel, but instead he started down the stairs to the clinic. This would have something to do with that woman they’d kidnapped, Zeke realized. Now that he knew what was really going on, there was no way Carmichael could talk him into doing anything foolish. He hadn’t confronted the Reverend yet, but if Carmichael pushed him too far, he would lay it all out. Zeke wanted nothing to do with this patient until it was time to get rid of her. The less he saw of her the easier it would be.

When they entered his office, Carmichael went straight to the window and stared intently into Jenna’s room. Finally he turned to Zeke, with a peculiar, almost painful expression lingering on his face. “I’m catching a plane for Seattle tonight. I have a meeting with JB Pharma in the morning. I need you to keep an eye on Jenna while I’m gone.”

Even though he expected it, Zeke resented the request. “Forget it. This is your game, whatever it is, and I already risked too much helping you snatch her. You’re on your own with her.”

“Zeke, I’m disappointed. Rachel will do all the real work. All you have to do is make sure no one else sees her.” The Reverend was staring at him in that way he did sometimes, his eyes all soft and seeming to generate their own gravitational pull. Zeke looked away.

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow night. Or the next morning. Depending on the flight schedule. Can I count on you?”

Zeke planned to monitor the woman while the Reverend was gone whether he agreed to verbally or not. Making sure she didn’t escape was in his best interest. He decided to test Carmichael. “I want to know who she is and why she’s here. I don’t buy the heroin addict bullshit.”

Unfazed, Carmichael said, “All right.” He sat down and gestured with an open palm that Zeke should do the same.

Zeke sat stiffly, now putting on a show of resentfulness. He was curious to see what Carmichael would say. Another clever lie, or the truth? Zeke would never trust him again, that was for sure.

“Her name is Jenna McClure. I have not kidnapped her for my own purposes as you might have suspected. She is to be an egg donor for a very good friend of mine, to whom I am extremely indebted.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“I don’t know, Zeke.” Carmichael twisted his hands together in his lap. Zeke didn’t buy it. Carmichael continued, “I think I was afraid you’d say no, and I desperately needed your help. I’m sorry.”

Zeke was silent. Their friendship no longer mattered. In a week or two he’d be gone for good. Yet he was curious about the whole egg transfer process and how they planned to get away with it. He had only had a vague idea of what the Reverend did to make all those women pregnant without actually fucking them. Carmichael had talked about it plenty, but Zeke only half listened. After a long silence, he said. “What exactly are you going to do with her?”

Carmichael took a long slow breath.

“Keep it simple,” Zeke said, trying not to feel stupid.

“I’m going to take one of Jenna’s eggs, fertilize it, and implant the embryo…” Carmichael paused before adding, “…in my friend’s uterus.”

“What’s so special about this woman’s eggs? Why not get an egg from one of the Sisters?” Zeke had heard Carmichael refer to Jenna as “your sister” when he was talking to Elizabeth, but all the church women were called Sisters, and he hadn’t taken it seriously.

“Genetically, Jenna is very similar to the recipient.”

So the kidnapped woman really was Elizabeth’s sister. The ice doctor was even colder than he’d thought. “You mean your doctor friend that was here the other day.”

“Yes.”

“She must be pretty special for you to kidnap this woman and steal a baby from her.” Zeke knew exactly who Dr. Elizabeth Demauer was and why Carmichael was in her debt. Zeke knew all Carmichael’s dirty little secrets. Before, when they were friends, he hadn’t thought of using Carmichael’s troubles against him. Now, with what he knew, he wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail the man if the opportunity presented itself.

“She is very special. I’m also extremely indebted to her.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to pay her off?”

The Reverend suddenly seemed agitated. “It’s not just about money. Liz wants a baby more that anything. A genetically related baby. This is my chance to make her happy, to make up for the family I destroyed.”

It was only the second time the Reverend had ever mentioned his family. Zeke had heard the whole story after an emotional AA meeting long ago. Carmichael had wept openly, and Zeke had been moved by the man’s grief. That was long ago. “So what happens to the sister when you’re done?”

“Nothing. Once Liz is pregnant, we let Jenna go.” Carmichael smiled slyly. “I’m giving her a drug that makes her forget things almost as fast as they happen. I figure we’ll drop her off near the McKinley Mental Institution outside of Portland. She’ll have no idea where she’s been or what happened to her. Just like a person with amnesia.”

“What about us? Will she remember what we look like?” Zeke was skeptical. Anything that sounded too good to be true usually was.

“Of course not.” The Reverend’s expression wasn’t as confident as his words. “It’s actually a combination of two drugs, ketamine and Versed. Even if she goes to the police, she’ll never be able to describe either of us well enough to be helpful to them.”

“My picture’s in a mug book, remember?”

“You haven’t committed a crime in twenty-some years.” The Reverend reached over and touched Zeke’s arm. “Relax, Zeke. Even if something goes wrong and the police question us, I’ll take responsibility. I’ll tell them you weren’t involved. Even on the one-in-a-million chance I do go to jail, I need you to stay here and look after the church. I’ve given this a lot of thought.”

Zeke wanted to laugh. With his record, no matter what the Reverend told the cops, he’d get put away for the rest of his life. If by some streak of unnaturally good luck he managed to avoid arrest, Zeke sure as hell didn’t plan to hang around and babysit the church. If he had enough money, he’d be gone right now.

“How long is she going to be here?” he asked.

“Another week at the most.”

“Why so long?”

“These things take time.”