She hadn’t personally worked the case but knew some of the officers that were involved in the search for her baby. Chris Richardson came to mind and she picked up her phone to call just as he walked by. Delaney returned the phone to its cradle and asked Chris to sit down. He was about the same age as her, married with twin preschoolers. His wife stayed home with the kids and money was tight. He would often walk to work and leave their only car for his wife to use in an attempt to keep her from going crazy. Chris was short and stocky with green eyes that seemed to sit just a little too close. He had a habit of biting his nails and didn’t think anybody noticed. When he felt like he was caught he would wipe his hands on the front of his pants and start fidgeting with a pen he always kept behind his right ear. He was a strange bird but about the closest person Delaney could consider a work friend.
“What’s up?” Chris asked as he sat down and placed his hands on his knees. Delaney instantly noted that his nails were chewed down to the nubs. They looked raw and painful and she was instantly grateful for not having such a gross habit. Delaney caught herself staring and started shuffling the papers in her hands as a distraction. “I’ve been getting complaints about Caroline O’Sullivan. I know you worked on the original case. What can you tell me that wasn’t reported by the media outlets?” The search for Andrew was broadcast on every major news outlet across the country and headlined every paper for months. Chris let out a huge sigh and slumped over. The topic was obviously upsetting for him.
“On July 21, 2005 at 5 a.m. Caroline checked herself into University Hospital in active labor. She was immediately wheeled to the labor and delivery floor where she was transferred to a bed and a fetal heart monitor was strapped around her abdomen. Around forty-five minutes later a midwife entered the room and did a quick pelvic exam. She told Caroline it was time to push and the baby was born fifteen minutes later, at 6:04 a.m. The cord was cut and he was given to her, a beautiful healthy baby boy. Within minutes he stopped breathing and had a grand mal seizure. Hospital policy has a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) nurse present for every delivery, specifically for unforeseen complications like this one. She grabbed the baby and he was transferred to the NICU. The doctors and nurses worked on him all day, but it didn’t matter. Later that evening he was pronounced dead.” Chris paused here and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Delaney stood without excusing herself and walked to the break room. She took two ice-cold Diet Cokes from the fridge and returned to her desk. She handed one to Chris and he cracked it open. In one long giant gulp he swallowed the entire can and slammed it on her desk. He began rubbing his stomach and let out a huge long exaggerated belch. In her attempt to fit in with the boys club, Delaney decided she wouldn’t even acknowledge the disgusting behavior. The smell of his belch lingered between them and she felt nauseated. She casually pushed her Diet Coke to the corner of her desk and determined she wasn’t that thirsty after all.
Chris picked up where he left off, as if nothing had happened between them. “The doctor told Caroline her son had died but she refused to believe him. He asked if she wanted to see his body and she said no. By this time she was so hysterical the doctor ordered the nurse to give her medicine through her IV line. Within minutes Caroline was sleeping and didn’t wake until the following morning. By that time she had a change of heart and was requesting to see her baby for the last time. An hour later the hospital realized the body wasn’t in the morgue. Administration was notified and they ordered a complete lockdown of the labor and delivery unit. For obvious reasons, the hospital didn’t want word of this to get out to the public. A massive internal search had ensued, and every medical waste disposal receptacle and biohazard bag was searched. When hospital staffers still couldn’t locate the body, administration finally notified the police. By this time four hours had already passed. Caroline was left in the dark, sitting alone in her room preparing herself for the viewing of her dead baby.”
Chris was quiet while Delaney tried to absorb all of this. All of the officers in the force worked on this case except for her. Chief O’Malley regulated her to driving his lazy butt back and forth from the station to the hospital so he could give updates and press conferences to the news stations.
“When the body couldn’t be found in the morgue, why did they search medical waste cans and bags?” Chris let out another sigh. “You’re going to have a hard time believing this but when a baby dies it goes to one of two places. First would be the morgue, where the body is eventually released to a funeral home. If the mother refuses the body, and doesn’t intend to have a funeral service, the body is placed in a red plastic biohazard bag and is considered medical waste.” Delaney couldn’t believe what she just heard and had Chris repeat himself. He then added in, “Think about it Delaney, if someone has a limb amputated, where do you think it goes? All body parts, organs, and babies born before they are considered viable are transported to a centrally located incinerator. For University Hospital that incinerator is located in Pittsburgh. There they are burned and turned to ash.”
Delaney interrupted and asked Chris, “What do you mean by viable babies?”
Chris made a sound as if clearing his throat and started back up. “The point of viability is legally considered the age in weeks in which a baby has a chance of survival outside of the mother’s womb with the appropriate medical intervention. At the time Andrew was born the age of viability was considered twenty-four weeks. A baby born prior to twenty-four weeks, even say twenty-three weeks and six days, is considered to be a miscarriage, and no life saving measures are even attempted. Miscarriages are treated as medical waste. If a miscarriage occurs in the hospital, mothers are given a choice to have the body released to a funeral parlor or to allow it to become property of the hospital. If rights to the body are signed over to the hospital by the mother, it then becomes their legal responsibility to appropriately discard of the remains.” Chris folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.
“Everything I read and heard stated that the baby was full term, no complications during pregnancy or delivery,” Delaney stated as she twisted her hair around her finger out of nervousness.
Chris quickly spoke up, “You’re right. Andrew was born a full-term baby. Caroline was nine months pregnant when he was born. But you’re missing the point. A staff member must have inadvertently placed Andrew in a biohazard bag and sent him to the incinerator. When the hospital finally contacted us we sent officers to stop all trash shipments from here to Ohio. Nothing was to enter the incinerator until cleared by us. Because we were crossing state lines the FBI was called in to help. And quite frankly, we needed it. There’s no protocol or policy in place to deal with a situation like this. Thousands of cops, FBI agents, and hazmat members searched relentlessly for weeks through landfills and trucks trying to find the bag that contained Andrew’s body. We were looking for a needle in a hay stack. You know how it ends Delaney, we never did find him.” With that Chris leaned forward and covered his face with both of his hands.
Delaney’s mind was racing. She had so many questions but knew Chris wouldn’t be able to answer all of them. “So, if every possible location was searched, what do you think happened to the body?”
Chris began ringing his hands and wiping them on his thighs and he continued, “I helped search the landfill, the sky overhead was filled with seagulls and rats the size of cats were everywhere. I can’t help but think …”
Delaney interrupted, “That’s enough, I get the picture and now I’m sorry I asked.” As Chris lowered his head back into his hands all Delaney could think of was all the unanswered questions. Her instinct told her Andrew was alive.
Chapter Eight
The next few days flew by. Every morning Delaney was up and out the door for her morning run by six o’clock. She spent her days scouring reports for any information that may have been missed or overlooked. Working on her personal laptop she made a list of questions, assumptions, and possibilities. She found it unbelievable that nobody from la
w enforcement ever interviewed Caroline. Chris had told Delaney that the possibility of questioning her was discussed but nothing ever came of it. There wasn’t anybody in the department who felt comfortable enough to approach the woman and ask questions about her dead child. As she learned more of what was done and not done she became livid. In the original report, Delaney came across the name Jake Thrasher, FBI Special Agent. A phone number with a Philadelphia area code was listed in parentheses next to it and Delaney added it to her list. Then she got up and went to the break room. She grabbed a Diet Coke and a container of organic French vanilla yogurt to eat at her desk. She opened her top drawer and pulled out a banana to dip in the yogurt. This was one of the few times she was grateful to work with all men. None of them ever touched her food.
After her lunch, she placed a call to Special Agent Jake Thrasher. She was surprised when he answered on the first ring. He introduced himself in a deep sexy bedroom voice as just Thrasher, and Delaney was certain she was speaking to a midget on the other end. After a brief introduction, she explained her concerns about the case of Caroline O’Sullivan. Thrasher interrupted only to ask an occasional question, so Delaney took that as permission to discuss her thoughts on other possibilities. She was impressed with his attentiveness and attention to detail and they agreed to meet the following morning at her office.
When Delaney returned home that evening, she quickly changed into a light pink tank top and matching shorts. After adjusting her ponytail in the mirror she reached for Fetch’s leash and headed towards the beach. Her bag was filled with tennis balls, two water bottles, the plastic cup from Mike, and a small first aid kit. Fetch knew the walk so well that it was more like the dog was walking her and not the other way around. She sat on the beach throwing balls into the water and Fetch brought back every single one. Covered in dog slobber and mud, Delaney felt happier and stronger then she had felt in years. She knew what she had to do when she got home and already had a plan.
Clearing space on her kitchen table, she dumped out all the contents of her Coach bag and searched until she found the anonymous letter and photograph she received when she was still married to Kevin. It was a picture of Kevin in bed with two other women, one being her ex best friend, Kate Van Buren. She didn’t recognize the other woman in the photo but noticed the tattoo below her navel that said “LICK ME” with an arrow pointing south. Kevin was looking directly into the camera with the look of a panting dog. The picture was stapled to a hastily written letter.
Dear Delaney, I hate to be sending you this but I wanted you to know I’ve been screwing your husband and your best friend for a year now. The sex has been fantastic and it’s a shame you’re too frigid of a woman to give Kevin what he really wants. Shame on you! If you change your mind, just let Kevin and Kate know and we’ll consider letting you into our club. Haha!
Delaney took the letter and photo then scanned them into her laptop. She googled hotmail and created a new e-mail address using fictitious information. Then she imported her address book and scrolled through the names, clicking on her ex mother-in-law first and Kate next. In the subject line she typed in “pics of Kevin” to assure the women would open it up. Then she methodically cc’d it to everyone who attended their wedding, including her best friend Kate and all of Kate’s family, even her husband.
When that was done, she rummaged through the junk drawer in her kitchen for a pack of matches. They were the long ones she used in the winter to start her fireplace. Finally she walked out back and placed the evidence on top of her BBQ and closed the lid. She cranked open the propane tank as high as it would go and listened to the hissing sound it made for a few seconds. Feeling confident, she lit the match and quickly pushed it through the small predrilled hole on the side of the grill. There was an instant pop and the lid lifted up some before settling back into the closed position. Delaney sat in her chair listening to the frogs until the tank went empty. Afterwards she went to bed and awoke feeling ten years younger.
Chapter Nine
The next morning she jumped out of bed and turned off her clock ten minutes before it was set to alarm. Pulling her long hair back into her signature ponytail, she slid into her running clothes and made her way out to the front porch. After ten minutes of stretching she started down her walkway for her morning run and noted the temperature was already eighty-two degrees. Delaney ran her usual four mile route through the scenic waterfront town. She stopped once to help a turtle cross the road; it was their breeding season and the thought of it being crushed by a car when searching for love made her cringe. Three miles out she passed Mike and was pleasantly surprised to see him running with a woman, presumably his fiancée. They all gave a small wave and courtesy nod of the head without breaking their stride. Passing the General Store, she could see William raising the “We’re Open” flag out front and hauling in the morning delivery of local newspapers. She was thankful her excursion was almost over, she could feel her workout clothes sticking to her soaking wet body and beads of sweat were pouring down her forehead and burning her eyes. On the final turn onto her street she was shocked to see a truck in her driveway and somebody sitting in the shade of her porch, with Fetch curled up at their side.
Slowing her pace to a brisk walk she stopped at the parked red pickup truck and glanced down at the Pennsylvania tags. She noted it was an older truck, probably eight years old and looked like it had a lot of miles. There was a bumper sticker that read I talk to strangers and she wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “Can I help you?”
Now standing, the stranger stepped out from under the shade reaching into his left breast pocket. “Didn’t mean to surprise you like this. I’m Special Agent Jake Thrasher, from the FBI. I stopped by your office but you weren’t in yet so I took the liberty of looking you up. I could see your coffee pot brewing through the window and assumed you would be returning. Your brave guard dog here made me feel right at home.” Holding his ID badge up with his left hand he reached out with his right to shake hands.
It had been years since Delaney felt any sort of chemical attraction to a man. This was more of an explosion. Without thinking, she reached out for his hand and instantly noticed the sweat dripping from her body. She considered saying she didn’t live here and was just being a nosy neighbor but knew that wasn’t a very good plan. She looked up into Jake’s sparkling blue eyes and radiant smile. He had beautiful straight white teeth and dark crew cut style hair. He must have been at least six feet four inches tall, with shoulders as broad as her doorway. She could see through his white buttoned down oxford shirt that his body was strong and tight. She imagined washboard abs and what it would be like to run her fingers over them. As her eyes ran down to his thighs she was horrified to see blonde fur from Fetch all over his dark suit pants.
Suddenly her hand was in his and she felt waves of panic mixed with desire travel through her body. She looked up and immediately saw the smirk on his face. She was busted; he knew she was checking him out. They quickly shook hands and Delaney invited him inside while apologizing for her shedding-like-crazy dog. She pulled a lint roller and handed it to Jake. Gathering creamer, sugar, and mugs, she set the coffee on her kitchen table. Knowing there wasn’t any food in her refrigerator, she opened the door anyway hoping a plate of pastries would magically appear. Staring back at her were a couple containers of organic strawberry yogurt, a bag of salad, and a couple cans of Diet Coke. She silently cursed herself and slammed the door.
Seeing Jake already sitting at her kitchen table, she made a small gasping sound and brought her hand up over her mouth. Jake started to stand up and began apologizing, “Sorry, I just assumed you put the second coffee cup out for me. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Feeling foolish now, Delaney waved her arms for him to sit back down while saying, “The coffee is for you, for the both of us, I just wasn’t prepared to see you sitting in my husband’s seat, I mean my ex-husband, my dead ex-husband. He always sat in the same place.”
Sitting back
down now, Jake started to apologize for the death of Kevin, but before he could finish Delaney interrupted, “No really, don’t apologize. I divorced him, and when he died I honestly didn’t feel any remorse. I wasn’t happy he died, but I wasn’t sad either. Now, let’s stop talking about him and discuss the real reason you’re here.” Jake politely nodded and sipped his coffee. Delaney noticed he drank it black and that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Jake got right to the point, and believed the case of Caroline O’Sullivan should be reopened. Delaney was pleased to hear that, and went into her living room and returned with her files and notes. “Something for you to read while I take a quick shower.”
After showering, Delaney tore through her closet looking for clothes. “I have the hottest man on the planet sitting in my kitchen and I can’t find anything good to wear,” she mumbled to herself as clothes went flying off hangers. She finally decided on a cream colored Donna Karen pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse which exposed just the top of her cleavage. She rubbed lotion on her legs to make them look smooth and shiny and slipped on two-inch nude color sling backs with an open toe. Standing in front of her floor length mirror she clipped her damp hair into a French twist, and put in her small silver hoop earrings. She quickly dabbed some Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue behind her ears and onto her wrists. She hurriedly curled her eyelashes and applied jet black waterproof mascara, a necessity in this humidity, and a sheer lip gloss. One final look in her mirror and she was ready to go.
Sail With Me Page 3
