The Baby Snatchers Read online

  THE BABY SNATCHERS

  Book Three of the Sydney Harbour Hospital Series

  Chris Taylor

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  Copyright 2016 by LCT Productions Pty Ltd

  (All Rights Reserved)

  LCT Productions Pty Ltd

  18364 Kamilaroi Highway, Narrabri NSW 2390

  ISBN. 978-1-925119-27-5 (Ebook)

  ISBN. 978-1-925119-28-2 (Paperback)

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  The Baby Snatchers is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Note to Readers

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my friends Sue Ricardo, Ally Thomson and Pru Knight for reminding me that every now and then, I need to drag myself away from my keyboard and enjoy some “girlfriend time.” Thank you for your friendship and support. And as always, to my wonderful husband, Linden. I love you.

  The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series

  (in order)

  THE PERFECT HUSBAND

  (Book One)

  THE BODY THIEF

  (Book Two)

  THE BABY SNATCHERS

  (Book Three)

  THE FINAL BULLET

  (Book Four)

  THE DEBT COLLECTOR

  (Book Five)

  Other books by Chris Taylor

  The Munro Family Series

  (In order)

  The Profiler

  The Investigator

  The Predator

  The Betrayal

  The Deception

  The Negotiator

  The Christmas Vigil

  The Ransom

  The Defendant

  The Shooting

  The Maker

  Sign up for my newsletter and keep up to date with new release dates, exclusive content and other offers at: http://www.christaylorauthor.com.au/subscribe-to-our-newsletter/

  Find out more about all of Chris Taylor’s books, including the hugely popular Munro Family series by visiting her website at: http://www.christaylorauthor.com.au/about/books

  PROLOGUE

  6th May, 1973

  Dear Diary,

  Matron approached me tonight, just as I was pulling on my coat. The storm that had raged for most of the evening was still fierce in its intensity. My trusty Toyota was parked at the far end of the hospital car park. By the time I reached its safety, my hair was plastered to my face and my uniform was drenched.

  But that’s not what has kept me up way past the time I should be in bed, snatching whatever hours I can before my alarm clock and the demands of a busy country hospital once again intrude. It’s what Matron said as I was leaving the maternity ward that has my thoughts in a frenzy and my body too tense for sleep.

  She spoke to me about the newborns—or more precisely, their mothers. Their young, unwed mothers. She painted a terrible picture of the awfulness of these innocent babies’ lives. They’ve been born out of wedlock to mothers too young to know what it means to care for a child; to mothers with no means of providing for them—not to mention their total absence of morals.

  Matron’s harsh and desperate whisper still echoes in my ear. ‘If something isn’t done, these babies will grow up as bastards, forever labeled, forever maimed. Unloved and unwanted, treated like trash.’ Is that what I want for them? The very thought makes my heart ache with sadness, anger, helplessness.

  What can I do to save them, these innocent babes in arms? It’s the very question Matron posed to me as I made my way outside. The question has been racing around and around inside my head, keeping me from sleep. I don’t know what I can do to save them! I am a young, single female. What is it Matron expects me to do?

  I’ll talk to Marjorie. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do. Until I know the answer, I won’t sleep comfortably again…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present day

  Georgina Whitely finished her internal examination of the young woman who lay on the bed in the birthing suite of the Sydney Harbour Hospital. The midwife removed her gloves and smiled at her patient.

  “I have good news, Cynthia!” she said. “You’re fully dilated.” A surge of adrenaline rushed through the nurse, but she kept her voice calm. “We’re going to get ready to push now.” For better or worse, this was where things got interesting.

  At Georgie’s announcement, the patient’s hands fisted around the steel bedrails. Barely sixteen and terrified, with her hair plastered to her face, her breaths came fast. As Cynthia’s midwife, it was Georgie’s responsibility to see the girl through the final stages of labor and ensure a successful outcome for both mother and baby.

  “Slow it down, Cynthia. That’s it. Big breaths. In and out. You’re almost there.” She kept her voice soft and hypnotic, yet firm, hoping to penetrate the fog of apprehension and pain that filled most women at this point. She’d been no different.

  “It hurts!” Cynthia gasped and tears ran down her cheeks. “Please, nurse! Can’t you make it stop?”

  “You’re doing wonderfully, Cynthia. Not much longer, now. Think about your baby and slow down your breathing. In through your nose and out through your mouth. That’s it. Well done! Keep going.”

  Georgie grabbed the wet cloth she’d left on the nightstand and swiped it gently across the girl’s flushed face. It wouldn’t do anything to ease the pain, but at this point in time, that was all Georgie could do. It was too late for an epidural or any other kind of drugs, apart from the laughing gas. The baby would arrive any minute.

  “Ow! Bloody hell! Please, nurse! You have to make it stop! Please!”

  “It’s all right, Cynthia. Use the gas. Breathe through it. You’re almost there.”

  The contraction that had gripped the teenager’s body finally eased its relentless hold and the girl gasped and groaned and cried out in relief. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. She turned to Georgie, her eyes desperate with fear and pain.

  “How much longer? How much longer is this gonna take?”

  “You’re nearly there, Cynthia. Keep on going. Your baby’s going to be here any minute!”

  The girl stared at Georgie, her expression one of anxiety and distrust. Georgie didn’t blame her. Cynthia had been in labor for more than fifteen hours. No doubt it was hard for her to believe t
he pain and torment was ever going to stop.

  Most of the time, Georgie’s patients had someone beside them, offering support. Whether it was the father of the baby or someone else, not many women chose to go through labor on their own. Georgie couldn’t help but wonder if the poor girl had anyone; if there was a single soul who cared about the teenager or the baby. It was a sad and depressing thought.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! It’s coming again! Please! Nurse, help me!”

  Georgie’s chest went tight, but she did her best to remain calm through the girl’s desperate pleas. “Cynthia, I want you to listen to me. Pull up your legs and bend your knees. Keep your chin down on your chest. As the contraction builds, I want you to try and push.”

  “Ow!” The girl screamed and gasped all at once, putting more effort into voicing her pain than she had moving her baby along. Georgie moved closer to the bed and turned the girl’s head to face her.

  “Listen to me, Cynthia. We need to get this baby out. It won’t happen without your cooperation. Do you understand?”

  In the aftermath of a contraction, the girl nodded and let out a soft sob. “I’m trying! I’m doing the best that I can!”

  “I know you are, Cynthia, but you need to concentrate on pushing. Don’t waste your energy on crying out. Keep your chin down and your legs up and when you feel that contraction building, I want you to push down with all your might. I’m going to count to ten. I want you to keep on pushing for as long as you can, all right?” She smiled down at her, hoping to reassure her, and was rewarded with a wobbly smile.

  “All right.”

  Glancing across at the monitor, Georgie noticed another contraction was on its way. “Okay, Cynthia. Here it comes. Bring your legs all the way up, drop your chin down on your chest. Here it comes, Cynthia. Breathe in and push!”

  Georgie began the countdown, keeping one eye on the monitor. The baby’s heartbeat was still strong and regular. They were almost there.

  “That’s it, Cynthia. Keep pushing! Eight…nine…ten. Relax.”

  The girl collapsed back against the pillows and sucked in mouthfuls of air.

  “Take it easy, Cynthia. Big, deep breaths. Slow it down. That’s it, honey. One more big push like that and I think the head will crown. Your baby will be here before you know it.” She smiled and moved around to stand between the young girl’s legs and glanced at the monitor again. “Okay, Cynthia. Here it comes. Big breaths, like I told you. Chin down, legs up. Let’s go! One…two…three…”

  Lifting the girl’s hospital gown out of the way, Georgie watched the baby’s head appear and quickly donned a fresh pair of gloves. “I can see the head, Cynthia! I can see a whole mop of black hair! Keep going! You’re nearly there!”

  “Ow, it’s stinging! Nurse, it’s stinging!”

  “Big, slow breaths, Cynthia. The pain will soon disappear. One more push and it’ll all be over, I promise.”

  The girl frowned at her with a narrowed gaze. “You promise?”

  Georgie shot her a big smile. “I promise. Now, here comes the contraction, keep your head down and push!”

  The girl groaned through her clenched teeth and pushed with all her might. Georgie held her gloved hands at the ready.

  “That’s it, Cynthia! Keep going! Your baby’s nearly here!” The head cleared the opening. Quickly, Georgie felt around the baby’s neck for the cord. It wasn’t there and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “Another second or two, Cynthia. Take another deep breath.” Georgie twisted the baby’s shoulders and it slid into her waiting hands. The cord was free from entanglements and the baby looked as it should.

  “It’s a girl! Congratulations, Cynthia! You have a little baby girl!” Quickly clearing the baby’s airway with suction, Georgie wrapped her in a clean towel and placed the baby upon her mother’s chest. Skin to skin, the tiny infant gave only the slightest of murmurs and then closed her eyes, content.

  “She’s not crying. Why isn’t she crying?” Cynthia asked, her voice rising in panic.

  “Not all babies cry at birth.” Georgie hurried to reassure her. “She’s happy where she is. She’ll cry when she’s ready. Her color’s good and she’s breathing fine. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

  “Are you sure?” the girl asked, her eyes still filled with uncertainty.

  “Yes, honey. I’m sure,” she said and offered her another smile. “Say hello to your daughter. You’ve waited a long time to meet her.”

  The girl pulled back the towel and studied her baby. It took awhile, but at last, Cynthia cracked a smile. “Hello, sweet baby,” she whispered. “You’ve taken Mommy to hell and back and I bet this is only the beginning.”

  Georgie listened to the girl’s murmurings and tried to dispel her disquiet. Quickly and efficiently, she delivered the placenta, taking care to check that it was intact. Satisfied, she disposed of the waste and peeled off her gloves.

  After washing her hands, she opened Cynthia’s hospital chart and began writing up a report of the birth. Flicking through the sparse pages, she noticed there was no one listed as an emergency contact or even as next of kin. She couldn’t help but wonder what support system the girl had in place and how she’d cope with a newborn once she left the hospital.

  “Have you got someone at home who can help you out with the baby over the next few weeks?”

  Cynthia kept her gaze fixed firmly on the baby and shook her head. “No, there’s just me.”

  Georgie frowned. “You live alone?”

  “Yeah. Ever since my asshole of a boyfriend took off. As soon as I told him I was pregnant, he couldn’t get out of the door quickly enough. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Here and there,” the girl replied evasively. “I move around a lot.”

  “What about your family? Are they able to help out? The first few weeks are always the hardest, while you’re getting to know your baby and working out how to cope. It can be overwhelming for all new moms.”

  Cynthia shook her head again. “Nope, just me and…Josephine.” She stroked the baby’s tiny cheek. “Yeah, Josephine. That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

  Georgie bit her lip in indecision. At the beginning of her shift, she’d noticed Cynthia’s general air of neglect. Her hair was lank and unwashed. Her bare feet were stained with dirt. The smile she gave her little daughter showed a decided disregard for her dental health and now that the stress of the birth was over, Georgie detected the unmistakable smell of body odor.

  Surely she couldn’t send a newborn home to what could very well be substandard living conditions without drawing it to someone’s attention? She flipped through the hospital notes again, looking for some indication social services had been involved, but there was nothing. The girl had presented to the emergency department of the Sydney Harbour Hospital late the night before with signs she was in active labor.

  She’d been admitted to Ward Seven. Georgie had taken over her care from the night nurse hours earlier. The labor was long but uneventful, and she’d assisted in the delivery of a healthy baby girl. Georgie grimaced and couldn’t help but wonder how long the baby would stay that way if her living conditions weren’t up to grade. With mounting concern, she sighed.

  Cynthia turned her head to look at her with fear in her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me! What the hell’s wrong with my baby?”

  Forcing a smile, Georgie set aside the chart and moved closer to the bed. “Your baby’s perfect. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

  The girl continued to stare at her with mistrust. “Then why do you keep sighing?”

  Georgie drew in a deep breath and eased it out. “I’m a little worried about your living arrangements and the lack of support at home. Taking care of a new baby is difficult. I’d feel more comfortable if I knew you and Josephine had some help.”

  Cynthia lowered her gaze to the baby in her arms. “We don’t need any help. We’ll get by just
fine on our own. Won’t we, Josephine?” She pressed a kiss upon the soft, dark hair that covered the infant’s head. “Just you and me, baby. That’s the way it’s gonna be.”

  Georgie chewed her lip in indecision. There was no doubt the girl had bonded with her child and would take care of her the best she could, but from the look of things, she was barely able to look after herself, let alone a newborn. Tactfully, Georgie tried again.

  “Cynthia, you’re sixteen. There must be someone I can call to let them know about you and Josephine. Your mom, perhaps?”

  The girl stared at the bed covers. “I never knew my mom. I was adopted at birth, like Cameron.”

  “Who’s Cameron?”

  “My brother. Well, my adopted brother, but I don’t think of him like that. He might be eleven years older than me, but he’s as real a brother to me as flesh and blood.”

  Georgie seized on the possibility that Cameron could provide Cynthia with some support. “Does Cameron live in the city?”

  The girl shrugged, her eyes still downcast. “Maybe. Last I heard he was a cop, stationed in the city.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

  “Ten years.”

  Georgie started in surprise. “Ten years?”

  “Yes,” Cynthia replied, her jaw jutting out at a stubborn angle, as if daring Georgie to question her statement.

  Georgie curbed her curiosity and said simply, “I don’t understand.”

  Anger flashed in the girl’s eyes. “My family’s a fuck up, all right. Surely you’ve figured that one out already.”