The Baby Snatchers Page 4

  “I’m sure between the two of you, you’ll be able to work something out. Who knows? Things might not be as bad as they sound. I’m only getting the information secondhand, remember?”

  Cam nodded, his gut still heavy with dread. As far as he could see, there was nothing good about a teenage girl who might have been kicked out of home and now had a baby in tow, but maybe he was reading too much into it? Maybe it was like Bryce had said. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as it sounded.

  There was only one way to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Present day

  Dear Diary,

  ‘We’re all put on this earth for a purpose.’ It’s what Matron kept saying to me. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words. The nuns at my high school had said them, too. It was like they were supposed to instil some kind of fervor in the students to work harder and to excel; to seek out our higher purpose; fulfil our destiny.

  Now, so many years later, I don’t know if I believe the words or not, but one thing is for sure: I’ve dedicated my life to finding out. From that very first moment, so long ago, when Matron pulled me aside and whispered to me of her plan, I was sure I’d found my purpose and I’ve spent many years striving to get it right. I only hope my efforts will one day be recognized.

  Not everyone will agree with my methods, but no one will argue with the outcome. Each time, I did what was necessary and right… And THAT I do believe…

  * * *

  Georgie stowed her handbag in her locker and made her way to the staff tea room. A handful of nurses rostered on the morning shift sat around a kitchen table, most of them holding steaming cups. Nodding and smiling in greeting, she went to the small counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. Adding cream and sugar, she took a grateful sip and sighed in satisfaction.

  “Ah, there’s nothing quite like that first taste of coffee,” she murmured and took a seat at the table.

  Her mother glanced up from the newspaper spread before her and frowned. “You look a little tired, Georgina. I hope you got some sleep?”

  “Yes, but it was fitful. I kept thinking about Cynthia Dawson. I hope Cheryl or someone else from FACS gets here in time. Did we have any patients come in overnight? Is there still a rush for the bed?”

  Her mother shook her head. “No, thank goodness, but we have four women due in today. Whether they go into labor on their due date is anybody’s guess, but we still need to be prepared.” She glanced around the room at the other nurses and then returned her attention to Georgie. “It won’t be an issue for Cynthia Dawson. She’ll be discharged this morning.”

  “Marjorie!” Georgie protested. “You can’t do that! We need to keep her here at least until she’s been seen by FACS. Cheryl promised me she’d drop by to see her today. We can’t let the poor girl leave with a new baby without doing something to help.”

  Marjorie’s expression turned grim. Slowly and methodically, she folded the paper and then, with a heavy sigh, she turned to Georgie. “I’m sorry, Georgina, you’ve misunderstood me. Cynthia Dawson’s baby died last night. It was very sad and unexpected, but as you know, these things can happen. The girl is understandably upset, but otherwise in good health. She’ll be discharged this morning.”

  Georgie’s heart pounded. She stared at her mother in shock, trying hard to take it in. Cynthia had given birth to a healthy little girl. Georgie had run the newborn tests on the baby herself. They’d all fallen within normal ranges. There had been no indication there was something wrong, and she’d told the young mother so. She shook her head, trying to come to terms with the news the infant was dead.

  “H-how… How did it happen?” she stammered.

  Her mother shrugged. “Who knows? The baby was taken to the nursery late last evening so Mom could get some sleep. Four hours later, someone checked on the child. She was due for a feeding. The baby was found in her in the crib, cold and unresponsive. CPR was performed, but to no avail. We’d lost her.”

  Marjorie’s voice hitched on the final words and Georgie’s heart clenched in pain. The baby might have only been a few hours old and Georgie barely knew the little girl’s mom, but knowing the infant had died so suddenly and without explanation… This was the part of her job she hated.

  “Who was on duty last night?” she asked quietly.

  Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Preliminary cause of death is SIDS, Georgina. Nobody is attributing blame.”

  Anger flared to life inside her. “I’m not blaming anyone, Marjorie. To the contrary, I wanted to offer my commiserations to the staff involved. I can’t imagine how they must feel.”

  Her mother’s expression softened marginally. “Rosemary Lawson and Tammie Sinclair were on duty. Rosemary found the baby.”

  Georgie absorbed the news somberly. “I’ll go and see Cynthia,” she said, her voice dull. “She must be distraught. She might have had a tough life, but she loved that little baby. She would have been a good mom, if she’d been given the chance.”

  Marjorie sent her a pointed look. “She’s sixteen, Georgina. What sort of life could she have given a child? I hate to say it, but the death of this baby might be a blessing in disguise.”

  “No!” Georgie protested on a gasp. “How can you say such a thing? It’s not our place to judge.” A couple of the other nurses nodded in agreement, looking just as distressed as Georgie. Marjorie eyed each of them solemnly.

  “I want you all to listen to me. We work in a hospital. Not everyone gets to go home. It’s tough, and every single time it happens, it’s hard to accept, but we have to because we’re nurses and that’s what we do. We try our very best to help the sick get well, but sometimes, no matter what we do, it doesn’t work out that way.”

  “That baby wasn’t sick, Marjorie,” Georgie said quietly, staring at her mother.

  Her mother held her gaze and replied just as quietly. “Apparently, she was.”

  Tears burned behind Georgie’s eyes, but she frantically blinked them away. What her mother said was right. They were professionals—nurses who gave it everything they had—but every now and then, they lost one.

  The thought of little Josephine, dying in her crib, all alone, filled Georgie with so much sadness, she wanted to find a quiet place to cry, but this wasn’t about her. She had to pull herself together and tend to Cynthia’s needs. As awful as Georgie felt, Cynthia had to be feeling a hundred times worse. It was up to Georgie to give her comfort and understanding and whatever else the poor girl required. She refocused on her mother.

  “Did anyone hear from Cynthia’s brother?”

  Marjorie frowned. “I thought you were going to look into that? I assumed he would have been in last night, if he was interested at all.”

  “I did try to contact him, but I haven’t heard anything back.”

  “I haven’t seen any visitors this morning, but I guess it’s early yet,” one of the other nurses offered.

  Georgie acknowledged her comment with a nod. As soon as she’d spoken to Cynthia and offered her condolences, she’d call Chanel and see what she’d learned. With a heavy sigh, she pushed away from the table and headed out the door.

  Georgie found Cynthia in a bed that was placed against the far wall. The curtains were drawn, shielding her from the rest of the ward. Sliding the curtains open just enough so that she could slip inside, Georgie approached the girl who was curled up in a fetal position on the bed.

  “Cynthia?” she called softly and laid a hand gently on the teen’s shoulder. Cynthia tensed and curled herself tighter, covering her head with her hands.

  “Cynthia, it’s Georgie. I’m the midwife who was here yesterday. I helped you through your labor.”

  A torrent of sobs shook the young girl’s shoulders and were quickly followed by a harsh gasp of pain. Cynthia lifted her head momentarily and stared at Georgie with eyes that were dark and desolate. Tears streamed down the young girl’s cheeks and dripped onto the bed. Georgie couldn’t remember when she’d seen anyone looking more
wretched.

  “M-my b-baby! M-my J-Josephine! They t-told m-me she was d-dead! You told me she was fine. What h-happened?” Another howl of pain twisted the girl’s face and she once again buried her head in her hands.

  Feeling more helpless than she ever had in her life, Georgie perched on the edge of the bed and stroked the girl’s matted hair. Even after a shower, the faint stench of body odor and ingrained dirt hovered in the air. Georgie’s heart broke at the thought of the life Cynthia had led—and more than likely would continue to lead if help and better fortune didn’t come her way.

  “Why? Please, nurse! Tell me why!” The anguished cry was muffled by the bedclothes, but Georgie’s eyes filled with tears. She had no answers for the young girl and the knowledge pierced her heart.

  Indeed, why did some babies suffer sudden and unexplained deaths? That question had been asked many times in the past, and would no doubt be asked again. Regardless, each time it was howled or screamed or gasped or whispered, it was always difficult to answer.

  “Sometimes things happen,” she whispered. “They can’t be anticipated. I’m so sorry you lost Josephine, Cynthia.” With her lips pressed tightly together in an effort to stem her emotions, Georgie murmured more words of reassurance and continued to offer comfort with every stroke she gave Cynthia’s hair.

  Gradually, the girl’s sobs quietened to hiccups. Georgie stood and went into the nearby bathroom. Taking a washcloth, she dampened it under the faucet and came back to where Cynthia lay. Wiping it across her face, she did her best to soothe the pain away, knowing that nothing would remove the feeling of emptiness and devastation, but doing all she could.

  “Excuse me. I’m looking for a patient by the name of Cynthia Dawson. Can you tell me where she is?”

  The low rumble of a male voice sounded somewhere in the open ward. Georgie set the cloth aside and pulled the curtains back. A man stood a few yards away, talking to one of the other nurses. At Georgie’s approach, the nurse looked up, relieved.

  “You’ll need to speak to Georgie Whitely. She’s the nurse looking after Cynthia today.”

  The man turned his attention to Georgie and lifted a single dark eyebrow in silent query. Her heart skipped a beat. He was tall and broad shouldered and looked about her age. His hazel eyes captured hers for a heart-stopping moment and then dipped lower, raking her slowly from head to toe.

  Georgie tensed reflexively, even as heat trailed in the wake of his gaze. Her nipples tightened. As if aware of her contradictory emotions, a mocking expression glinted in his mesmerizing eyes.

  He was good looking enough to warrant a second look by any woman with a pulse and his casual air of confidence told her he was well aware of his sex appeal. Annoyed at her body’s unwanted reaction to his attractiveness, she cleared her throat.

  “I’m Georgie Whitely. I’m a midwife on this ward. How can I help you?”

  The gleam of amusement left his face. “I’m looking for my sister, Cynthia Dawson. I’ve been told she’s a patient here.”

  Georgie’s fists clenched reflexively. So, she hadn’t misheard. He was looking for Cynthia—his sister. As his words registered in her brain, she swallowed a surprised gasp. Chanel had obviously spoken to Bryce.

  “You must be Cameron Dawson,” she said and was pleased her voice remained steady. At least the poor girl now had a family member to help her through her grief. Georgie couldn’t help but feel relieved. At the same time, she wondered where he’d been over the past ten years.

  From the look and cut of his charcoal-gray suit, crisp, white business shirt and tastefully matching maroon tie, he’d done well for himself somewhere along the line. Why hadn’t he shared some of his good fortune with his little sister? She didn’t know, but was more than curious to find out.

  “Yes, I am. How do you know?”

  His question broke into her thoughts and she forced herself to pay attention. “Cynthia gave me your name last night when I asked her about her family. You’re a police officer, right?”

  “Yes, I’m a detective stationed at the City of Sydney Police Station. I’ve been there nearly three years.”

  “Just as Cynthia said.”

  He frowned as if about to say something, but then appeared to change his mind. Georgie took his arm and led him out of earshot of Cynthia’s bed.

  “Where are we going?”

  Georgie put a finger to her lips. Shooting her another suspicious look, but taking her cue, he followed along beside her in silence. Releasing his arm, she entered a small room off the ward that was used as the patient kitchen. Grateful to find it empty, she waited for him to enter and then moved to close the door.

  “What’s going on? Why all the secrecy? I’d like to see my sister.”

  Georgie nodded. She could understand the confusion and mistrust that now filled his eyes. “Mr Dawson, I’m afraid I have some very sad news.”

  The man’s face turned ashen. “Oh, Christ, please don’t tell me it’s too late! I haven’t seen her since she was a little girl and now that she’s here, in Sydney…” His voice filled with urgency. “Please, nurse, tell me she’s all right! What happened? I need to know what happened.”

  “Your sister’s fine, Mr Dawson, at least, she will be in time. It’s her baby I’m talking about. Cynthia gave birth to a little girl yesterday afternoon. I was present for the delivery. Unfortunately, for reasons we can’t explain, the baby died in her sleep last night.”

  Shock replaced the look of desperation that had previously clouded his expression and he reared back. “Died? What the hell do you mean, she died? Was there something wrong with her?”

  “Not as far as we know. There certainly didn’t appear to be anything wrong with her when I saw her last, but the fact is, sometime during the early hours of the morning, the baby stopped breathing.”

  Cameron shook his head, disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. “This is bullshit! How could a baby just up and die? This is the twenty-first century and we’re standing in a hospital. Babies don’t die in hospitals in this day and age!”

  His voice had risen by several decibels and Georgie did her best to remain calm. It was her only hope of soothing his temper.

  “I understand your shock and confusion, Mr Dawson, but I don’t know what else you want me to say. The truth is, your niece died of cot death, also known as SIDS—Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.”

  “I know what fucking SIDS means! What the hell do you take me for? An imbecile?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr Dawson.” She stared at him, trying desperately to find the right words. The truth was, there were never any right words in this kind of situation. She was only grateful over the years she’d spent nursing, she’d rarely been put in this position.

  With a muffled curse, he turned away and dragged a hand through his thick, dark hair. Georgie crossed her arms over her chest, praying for the uncomfortable moment to end. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, more controlled.

  “Where’s Cynthia? I assume she’s been told?” He turned back to look at Georgie and the bleakness in his eyes tore at her heart.

  “She’s still on the ward, in bed. And yes, of course she’s been told. I was with her a moment ago, right before you came in.”

  “How… How is she?”

  “How would you expect?”

  “Christ! She’s sixteen! She’s little more than a child! How the hell is she going to cope with something like this?”

  Memories of Georgie’s own experience crashed into her, but she forced them away. Now wasn’t the time to remember how it had been for her, pregnant and scared at seventeen. With her jaw clenched, she managed to respond.

  “With all due respect, Mr Dawson, I don’t think it matters how old you are. The loss of a child is devastating for anyone to endure. It’s a tragedy that will take a long time for her to get over. She’s going to need a lot of love and support from her family.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Have you met them? Have you met our parents?”


  “No,” Georgie replied, eyeing him steadily. “I was referring to you.”

  “Oh.” His mouth closed with a click and a frown marked his brow. A moment later, he spoke again. “What about the father of the baby? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. We only ask the necessary questions, unless the patient volunteers the information. Cynthia said she hasn’t seen the baby’s father since she told him she was pregnant.”

  “Great. That’s fucking great. He sounds like a real keeper. She’s probably better off without the prick, especially now she doesn’t have the baby.”

  As if suddenly becoming aware of what he’d said, Cameron dragged a hand across his face in anger and frustration. “Shit! What a mess! What a fucking mess!”

  Georgie frowned and put her hands on her hips. “Mr Dawson, I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your language and your bedside manner could definitely use some work. At sixteen, your sister has not only given birth on her own, without any support from her family, but in the space of twelve or so hours, she’s gone from getting to know her new baby to being told that her perfect little baby’s died. She’s understandably traumatized and you need to curb any feelings you might have one way or the other about the subject of who and how and why and focus on your sister’s needs.”

  Georgie’s breath came fast, but she wasn’t finished yet. Stepping closer, she got into his face. “Your little sister’s hurting and she doesn’t know where to turn, what to do, or how to cope. What she needs right now is your unconditional support and love. Keep your questions to yourself. When she’s strong enough and when she’s ready, I’m sure she’ll tell you what you want to know. Until then, you need to keep your mouth shut and just be there for her. Do you understand?”

  Cameron stared at her, looking more than a little taken aback. Gradually, the tension eased from his face and he stepped back, giving both of them some space. Georgie drew in a few deep breaths and tried to get herself back under control. Despite her best intentions, her actions hadn’t exactly been those of a calm and collected professional. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. She owed him an apology.