The Baby Thief (28 page)

She had not been prepared for Darcie’s ordeal, which had gone bad from the beginning. So much screaming. So much blood. Sarah had kept wishing, even though she knew it was ridiculous, that Reverend Carmichael would rush in and take over, making everything turn out right. Darcie and her baby were still in the operating room, and all Sarah could do was sit and pray, hoping nobody would recognize her.

After what seemed like an eternity, a tired looking nurse came by and told Sarah that Darcie and her baby girl would both be fine, but neither was ready for visitors. Sarah cried with relief. Exhausted, she laid down on a couch in the waiting room and closed her eyes.

For a moment, Sarah was overwhelmed with homesickness. She longed for the familiarity of the compound, the warmth of her mother and sister. She told herself she would be back there soon enough. After visiting with Darice in the morning, she would head home. She wanted to check on the strange woman in the clinic and confront Carmichael with her doubts.

Chapter 29

Saturday, Nov. 4, 7:45 p.m.

Carmichael watched Jenna through the Plexiglas. She seemed restless for someone who had just made her peace with God. Her sudden religious conversion troubled him. It was too convenient. Yet it was typical of a nonbeliever to have a change of heart when they feared their days on earth were about to end.

What if her new faith was real? The thought excited him. She might come to worship God as he did. Perhaps even join the church. The idea of seeing Jenna, day after day, gave him great pleasure. Given enough time, he could tame her. He could make her love and admire him the way other women did. With Jenna, everything would be new and fresh. No ugly past or resentments between them. Things had changed between him and Liz. Money had become an issue with her, and she no longer cherished him the way she had in the beginning.

Liz had witnessed his alcohol and drug abuse and knew what he’d done to his family because of it. She’d been pleased with his rehabilitation but resented his faith. He couldn’t talk to her about God without seeing that look in her eye. Elizabeth also disapproved of the untested fertility drugs he gave his followers, especially the young girls. As much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right on that subject. The news of Sarah’s collapse had been upsetting enough, but her disappearance had him scared. He loved Sarah dearly and hated the thought of losing her from the family. The idea of her talking to someone in authority about his unusual medical practice bothered him even more. He couldn’t do anything about either possibility right now. He had too many other critical situations to worry about, thanks to Liz and her need to have a genetically related child.

A small smile broke through his worries. Jenna had said she wanted to have a baby. It was sweetly ironic. He felt better now about taking her eggs to create a new life. What disturbed him was the little fantasy he’d just dreamed up about being the father. He’d been adamantly opposed to ever becoming a father again since the night he’d seen his beloved son crushed under the car that he had wrecked in a cocaine and alcohol stupor. He didn’t deserve to have a family. Yet suddenly, he wanted one. He wanted Jenna. He wanted their child.

Carmichael shook his head and forced himself to turn away from the window. Foolishness, he chided himself. Utter foolishness. Jenna would never join the church, never share him with another woman, never willingly let Elizabeth raise her child. She was too independent. He’d learned that much about her. Getting attached to her was extremely dangerous. He could lose everything if she ever identified him. The Versed seemed to be working, but more extreme measures might need to be taken.

* * *

Jenna’s hopes wavered. The crazy preacher/doctor was too smart, too unpredictable for her plan to work on him. He’d gone along with her religious talk but hadn’t really bought it, she could tell. He had sure kissed her though. What if Rachel hadn’t come in when she did? Would he have molested her? More important, would he be back for more? Jenna wondered where the nurse had been, why she hadn’t seen her lately. Rachel was her only hope of escape. Rachel was vulnerable and easily manipulated. If only she could get another chance with her.

To keep her mind from drifting aimlessly and sabotaging her efforts to plan her escape, Jenna had been making it work. She started simply by reciting the alphabet over and over, then moved on to multiplication tables and the names of state capitals. The more she worked her brain, the longer she could concentrate and remain conscious. Eventually she started listing all the teachers she’d ever had in school, kids she’d grown up with, jobs she’d had, and people she’d worked with. Sometimes she drifted off in the middle of a list and had to fight her way back, but it happened less and less frequently. Jenna felt more alert, more in control than she had since waking up in the gray room.

When her heart rate started to escalate again, Jenna tried to control her anxiety by contracting and relaxing her muscles one at a time. She started with her toes and worked up. When she spread and relaxed her fingers after making a fist, her left hand brushed lightly against something sharp. Groping along the edge of the mattress with outstretched fingers, Jenna could feel the outline of a hypodermic needle. Instinctively, she reached for it, thinking she could use it as a weapon. Her wrists were firmly secured and she couldn’t get a finger around the needle to pull it into her hand.

Groaning with frustration, Jenna tried again and again until her hand ached with the effort. As soon as she gave up, the obvious solution popped into her head: get closer to the needle. Using her buttocks, Jenna scooted the mattress a millimeter at a time to the left. In a few minutes, she had the needle firmly in her hand.

The door opened and the nurse walked in. Panicked, Jenna pushed the needle under the mattress, but not too far.

“Hello.” Rachel’s voice was subdued. As she approached the bed, Jenna was surprised by the nurse’s appearance. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days, and her expression was pinched as if she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” The question was automatic. Even though Jenna had felt hostile to Rachel in the beginning, she had come to realize the nurse, in her own way, was also a victim of the crazy preacher/doctor.

Rachel tried to smile. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, but I can tell you’re upset about something.”

“Thanks for asking, but I really can’t talk about it.” The nurse gripped Jenna’s left wrist and began to check her pulse.

Fearful that Rachel would see the needle, Jenna tried to distract her. “I’ll pray with you if you like.”

Startled, the nurse let go. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I’ve made peace with God and I’m prepared to die.”

“You’re not doing to die!”

Her vehemence startled Jenna. Still desperate to know what they had planned for her, she pressed for answers. “How do you know? Look at me. My heart is racing, I’m losing weight, and my muscles are deteriorating. How long can I last? Why am I here? I have a right to know.”

Rachel’s expression telegraphed her struggle.

Lowering her voice, Jenna begged, “Please tell me. I won’t tell him that you told me. I promise.”

Rachel pushed a messy clump of dark hair from her face, then glanced over at the window. Abruptly she seemed to make up her mind. The nurse leaned in close. “Your family was afraid you would overdose on heroin, so they asked us to keep you here and take care of you until you were over the addiction. They must love you very much.”

“What are you talking about?” Jenna was bewildered.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” Rachel sounded hurt. “I told you the truth, and I think you should be honest, too.”

“But it’s not the truth.” Jenna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The whole nightmare was a case of mistaken identity. “You people have the wrong woman. I am not a heroin addict. Look at me. I’m too chunky to be a drug addict, or I was until I got here. I don’t have any track marks. Do a blood test if you don’t believe me.”

Rachel looked puzzled. “The Reverend wouldn’t make a mistake like that.”

“Somebody did.”

The women stared at each other, both slowly coming to realize Rachel had been lied to. Finally Jenna said, “Whatever his reasons are, I know it’s not your fault, and I’m sure God will forgive you. I’ve come to care about you, Rachel. I envy your faith.”

Rachel smiled brightly. “You can have faith too. Just ask God to come into your heart and He will.” Her exuberance quickly turned to embarrassment. “Considering your circumstances, it must be hard for you even to have faith in people, let alone God. But despite the way it seems, I know the Reverend means well. You’ll be fine soon. I promise.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Jenna closed her eyes for effect.

“It’s only a matter of time.” Rachel patted her hand. “Would you like to pray now?”

“I’d like to get up and walk around before I’m too weak to stand.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not? I’m not going anywhere. Tie my hands if you don’t trust me.”

“Please don’t ask me. I can’t.”

“You expect me to have faith that you’re not going to let me die, but you can’t even show me a simple act of human decency.”

Rachel looked crushed. Jenna didn’t let up. “Please, Rachel. You’ve got to realize how maddening it is lying here all the time. I just want to walk around for a few minutes, maybe see the rest of the church.”

Rachel’s jaw worked back and forth. She glanced at the window. “I can’t let you out of this room.”

“That’s fine.” Jenna’s heart surged with joy. It was difficult to sound calm. “I just want to exercise my legs for a minute.”

“All right, but only for a minute. And I will have to tie your hands together. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Rachel stepped out through the door, Jenna worked the hypodermic needle out from under the mattress. She could barely conceal it in her hand. What if Rachel saw it? Her pulse pounded. She was about to escape. Could she stab Rachel with the needle to gain an advantage? Jenna had never deliberately injured anyone. Rachel was someone she would feel sorry for under different circumstances.

The nurse came back with a long, braided cord. First she knotted the cord around Jenna’s right wrist, then undid the strap holding her arm to the bed.

A rush of weightless exhilaration surged through her as Jenna lifted her arm into the air. It felt great to move! The urge to push Rachel down and run from the room was overwhelming. But her left arm, with the IV needle attached, was still secured to the bed. Keeping a tight grip on the cord, Rachel walked around the end of the bed and tied Jenna’s free hand to her left hand before pulling the needle and releasing the other strap.

Jenna sat up and was immediately lightheaded. She waited for the dizziness to pass, then gently swung her legs down to the floor. Rachel watched nervously, gripping the cord so tightly with both hands her knuckles were white. Jenna smiled kindly at the nurse. She felt bad about having to hurt Rachel, but this was her chance and she was getting the hell out.

Jenna stood slowly, legs like jelly. Her feet tingled with a thousand pins and needles. She took a few short steps and felt her quads tighten and respond. They ached to move. A surge of confidence pushed her forward another few steps. She wanted to put herself between Rachel and the door before she acted. She manipulated the needle in her hand until the sharp end was exposed, then gripped it tightly for the attack.

Rachel was slightly to the side and one step behind when Jenna swung her tied hands up and sideways, plunging the needle into Rachel’s bicep.

The nurse screamed and let go of Jenna’s cord, grabbing her own arm.

Jenna bolted for the door, her legs suddenly weak and threatening to collapse. The door opened just as she reached for the knob and the thick wood slammed into her forehead. Jenna reeled from the blow, staggering backward into Rachel. The nurse wrapped her arms tightly around Jenna’s chest. Jenna struggled to free herself, feeling as if she were moving in slow motion. She managed to break Rachel’s grip and lunge forward.

The preacher/doctor blocked her path.

Jenna drew in her breath and charged the way she’d seen football players do. She hit him in the chest with her right shoulder. Her effort was weak from drugs and inactivity. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but the man only took a small step backward and stood his ground in the doorway. Before Jenna could step back and gather strength for a second charge, a needle plunged into her left shoulder. She twisted away with a violent jerk.

Rachel was there, holding her captive while the preacher/ doctor pressed the plunger, releasing the drug into her system. Jenna struggled for a moment, then collapsed when her legs became too paralyzed to hold her up.

Chapter 30

Saturday, Nov. 4, 7:50 p.m.

Eric reread the article. Something about it bothered him. Something other than the fact the doctor had failed to report or remember a fatal accident.

“You think this might be the guy?” Joe peered over Eric’s shoulder.

“I need a picture of Carmichael.”

“I’ll check the photo file.”

“There must be more about this story.” Eric scanned forward on the microfiche as Joe hustled over to the cabinet files in the corner. After twenty minutes, Eric found one other mention of the accident, but it contained little information. Both accounts had been written by Norine Oswald, who’d left the paper just before Eric came on board. He wondered if it would be worthwhile to call her. Twelve years was a long time. Police records might be a better place to look.

“Bingo!” Joe dashed back across the room. “I believe we have a match.”

Despite the dimly lit room and a decade of change, Eric recognized Dr. David Carmichael as the pony-tailed man he’d seen with Jenna last Saturday. He was thinner in the old photo, which emphasized his delicate cheekbones and full mouth. Eric hated him on sight. “I’ll be damned.”

“Now what?” Joe bounced on his feet, ready to go.