Hush Little Baby

by Alex Gates

  Drug-addled confusion or a mother’s desperate plea?

  I changed the subject. “What about visitors? Has anyone come to see the baby?”

  “Senator Harding!” The nurse practically blushed. “Oh, he was so charming. Wanted to donate money for her hospital bills, can you believe it? The others think it’s a PR stunt, but you could tell he cared.”

  Great. That damned politician would make this case hell if he made my victim into a pet project for his platform.

  I sighed. “Anyone else? Anyone who seems to be friends with the mother? Related to her?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  I braved the incubator and stroked Baby Hope’s arm, but I didn’t stay long. I gestured for the nurse to follow me to the hall where I wouldn’t be so unforgivably large, awkward, and dangerous around such a frail little baby. Justice wasn’t gentle, and Hope needed a different kind of care, a promise I couldn’t deliver with a Glock or handcuffs.

  I held the door open for another nurse, bundled in lavender scrubs and a face mask. She nodded as she entered the solemnness of the NICU, but she seemed too busy to stop, talk, or coddle the other babies. No wonder. With six children in need of a little extra care, that nurse would probably be on her feet for the rest of her shift, bouncing between the incubators. And people said my job was hard.

  Elizabeth led me to the bustle of the main desk. Administrative stress, paperwork, and demanding new families. I could handle that.

  “Any news from other hospitals?” I asked. “The mother couldn’t have gotten far after giving birth?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Wouldn’t she have needed help?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Women have given birth in worse conditions, all alone. She might not need extra care. Or…”

  “She could be hiding and risking her life.”

  “Exactly.”

  Neither of us wanted to voice the third option.

  She was already dead.

  Pessimism came naturally, but optimism solved cases. “I made a flyer to distribute to NA meetings in the area—just in case the mother was trying to manage the addiction. If I give some to you, can you pass them along to the hospital’s sponsored groups?”

  Elizabeth reluctantly nodded. “I can’t promise you’ll have any luck there. Those meetings are anonymous. They won’t give the mother up.”

  “I have to try. If I can’t find the mother, I need to look for anyone who might know her. That means checking the meetings.”

  “If she was trying to get well.”

  The only way I’d sleep at night was if I believed she’d attempted to recover from her addiction, and she’d abandoned the baby to avoid the danger that first pricked her skin with the needle. Adamski and the other officers believed that she was a junkie, a prostitute, some sort of degenerate.

  But she had cleaned her baby. She wrote the note.

  She’d run away, absolutely terrified.

  And someone took her.

  I wasn’t organizing the media campaign and posting flyers to find the woman so I could bring her to justice. I had to help her.

  But first, I needed her name.

  I handed Elizabeth my card. “If anything changes, please let me know—”

  I frowned. A quick chiming dinged from overhead. A pleasant, but insistent, bing-bong-bing! The emergency lights flashed in time to the alert.

  “False alarm?” I asked.

  Elizabeth stiffened. She pushed past me, rushing to her desk. “Nothing was planned…”

  The desk phone rang. She dove for it, but her hiccupped gasp coiled a chill over my spine.

  I smelled the smoke before I saw it. The nurses shouted. I turned, searching for the source of the darkening trickle of smoke blooming from an adjacent hallway across from the NICU.

  Elizabeth pointed. “That’s the guest and family overnight rooms!”

  The nurses and doctors rushed to the center of the ward, swarming the desk and immediately dividing responsibilities and rooms. The alarm turned shrill, and the frightened cries of half a dozen babies wailed through the department. The hospital PA system blared, and a calm voice relayed a coded message to the staff. Two orderlies carrying fire extinguishers burst from the stairwell and raced into the overnight room with a nurse.

  A tense moment passed before the staff organized themselves and hurried to the center of the NICU, waiting near incubators and preparing supplies if they needed to evacuate.

  The ward was more than prepared to handle these emergencies, but a nagging instinct tightened my chest. I stared at the ward, the bustle of activity, the threat of smoke coiling from an unused room. Something was wrong.

  A new shrill alarm whistled over the floor. The nurses froze.

  Elizabeth darted from behind the desk and race past each incubator. “A Tenderguard!”

  My stomach dropped as I realized she counted the infants. “What does that mean?”

  “Ward security. The ankle monitors track the babies. But they aren’t supposed to be moved yet.” She turned, nearly pushed into a wall as two security guards barreled down the hall to help battle the fire. “Maybe a mother took her baby out of the NICU because of the fire?”

  A quick spike of panic slashed through my chest.

  No. This wasn’t any accidental fire.

  This was coordinated.

  Elizabeth raced to her desk, slamming the keyboard to access the monitoring program. The detailed map of the floor revealed room numbers and names marked with big and little hearts, representing mothers and children.

  But one tiny heart wandered too far from the ward.

  One little baby who wasn’t matched with a mother.

  The sickness washed over me. “What baby is that?”

  “That’s Hope!”

  The fire. The smoke. The distracted staff.

  Christ, it was a trap!

  First the baby was abandoned. Now?

  Kidnapped.

  “Where is she going?” I shouted.

  The map updated their position every few seconds. The little heart paraded downstairs, ducking into the first room just outside of the stairwell.

  Hiding in an unused room? Good enough for me.

  “Call security.” I bolted down the hall. “I’ll catch her!”

  “Who?”

  “The nurse in the lavender scrubs!”

  The only other nurse to enter the NICU. The only person on the floor who’d covered her face. And while I thought it’d be protocol if she was handling the infants, I hadn’t wondered, hadn’t thought, that maybe she didn’t want to be seen. Damn it. I didn’t catch her hair color. Couldn’t even guess at her weight under the bulky scrubs.

  I was so damn awkward around the baby I couldn’t protect her.

  Lesson learned too late.

  Elizabeth called the Code Pink over the PA system. That panicked the ward more than the fire. I dodged the frantic nurses and raced to the exit. How far of a head start did she have on me? More than a floor by now. Felt like a mile.

  Why was this woman so desperate to steal Hope? She’d risked the lives of nearly half a dozen premature and sick babies to snatch her from the damn incubator!

  What the hell would she do to the baby once she had her?

  The door to the stairs crashed against the wall, echoing a violent clatter through the empty stairwell. I leapt over the steps, skipping the first three. My momentum bashed me into the wall, but I bounced off and tore down the second flight of stairs.

  The exits would have been sealed by now. Security would’ve been posted downstairs before any of the public throughways. The code echoed from the hospital’s main intercom, the word Pink more ominous than the flashing strobes and constant pinging of the fire alarm.

  I escaped from the stairwell with gritted teeth and a profound regret that I had to surrender my gun with the security guard downstairs. My pounding heart couldn’t orientate me. I paused, searching the halls, imagining the layout of the computer’s map before ducking to
the left and throwing myself into the darkened room.

  “Police!” I shouted. “Don’t move!”

  The room had been trashed, chairs and beds tossed in disarray between the wardrobe and window. The bathroom door cracked open.

  Silence.

  Had she hurt the baby?

  I pushed the wheeled bed from my path and approached the bathroom slowly, wary that the door would fling open with her sudden escape.

  “I’m coming in!” I yelled. “You will stay absolutely still!”

  Nothing. No response.

  No baby crying.

  Christ.

  I kicked open the door. It banged against the wall.

  I braced myself for an attack. A scene of blood. Something more terrible.

  Nothing.

  The monitoring ankle bracelet had been cut in two and violently smashed. She’d tossed the remnants into the toilet, silencing the alarm but not fully destroying the location sensor.

  Son of a bitch.

  She’d left nothing else behind. No clue about the baby, who she was, or where she had gone.

  But she couldn’t have gotten far.

  I sprinted to the hall and shouted for two nurses in pink scrubs. “Police. Did you see anyone going into this room?”

  The older nurse answered first, her hair falling from an unstable clip on the back of her head. “No. No one!”

  “She’d be dressed like a nurse. Scrubs. Like…a light purple color.”

  They exchanged a hesitant glance. “The cardiac nurses are in violet today.”

  Jesus. “Are the exits sealed?”

  “Yes. Security at all the entrances.”

  But they were looking for a woman who looked like every other nurse. Someone they wouldn’t expect. Someone who knew enough to cause a distraction and remove the baby’s alarm tag.

  She would also know to avoid the exits.

  And to have a plan to get out quickly.

  Only one option then. The parking garage. Hell, she’d probably made it there before security had a chance to reorganize from the fire alarm to the Code Pink.

  The hospital’s parking garage was on the lower levels, easily accessible. Christ, she might have already gone.

  Security had locked the elevators. I sprinted to the stairwell instead, racing down another three flights of stairs in a cold sweat.

  Was I too late?

  Where was she taking the baby?

  Who was she?

  I burst from the stairwell and into the first level of the parking garage I could find. The light was dulled beneath the hospital. Only streaks of half-hearted brightness leeched from the overcast evening. The yellowed lights barely created shadows against the hard cement.

  A perfect location to hide. The garage was quiet. Dark and empty after the afternoon’s visit to the hospital. Enough cars remained to obscure the spaces between the thick cement pillars.

  An engine revved from below. The traffic on the street rumbled. Two birds chirped and squawked as they fought in mid-air. Only the hum of the air circulation system dared to make enough noise to distract from the crime.

  No woman.

  No baby.

  I retraced my steps, estimating the time in my head. She’d be exhausted by now—setting the fire, running through the halls, the stairs, carrying the sensitive newborn. Removing Hope’s ankle bracelet must have taken time, and escaping the parking garage on foot was too risky when security had been alerted about the stolen baby.

  I could feel it. She was still here.

  Hiding. Waiting. Searching for a way out.

  My steps echoed. It didn’t bother me. Stealth meant nothing. The woman knew she was being followed. I wanted to radiate authority. A finality. A reason for her to surrender.

  But what if I frightened her into making a terrible, unthinkable mistake instead?

  A row of parked cars offered shelter from the exit path. I searched between the sedans, finding nothing. Two trucks were parked on the row above, and three motorcycles lined the narrow spaces overlooking the open window to the street below. I descended, my steps slow.

  I couldn’t see her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t close. The hair on my neck prickled. The feeling of being watched didn’t come naturally—I’d learned that lesson entirely too late to save myself. Now, I paid attention when that shiver touched my skin.

  “I know you have the baby.”

  My voice echoed over the garage. Not angry. Not accusatory. I simply offered her a chance to explain.

  “Come on over. Let’s talk. We’ll make sure the baby is okay.”

  Nothing. No reply. No sound.

  I’d expected that. I meant to call out only so she’d know exactly where I stood. If I was close, she’d make a mistake. If she thought I was far, she’d assume she could run.

  “The baby is sick.” I surveyed the garage. Too many corners and nooks, places to hide and shadows to attack. I stayed near the thick concrete walls and protected my back. “The baby needs help. You can’t care for her like this. Only the doctors can help her recover.”

  I cut across the road, darting between a van and sports car to hop a barrier and scoot down half a level.

  A shadow moved, but I lost it in a flicker of light from the window. She was still here.

  “In a few minutes, the security guards are going to be all over this place,” I said. “They’ve sealed the exits. No one else will be allowed in the garage, and no one inside will be allowed to leave. There’s not an easy way out from here, so I’m asking you—please, just come talk to me. I can help you. I can help the baby. I promise.”

  A whimper—the warning cry from an unhappy baby. I held my breath. What would she do to the child if she thought Hope gave her position away? Would she hurt her? Cover her mouth? Suffocate her?

  Kill her?

  The twisted fear clutched my throat, but a shock surged through me.

  Oh God.

  What if this wasn’t a normal kidnapping?

  What if the woman wasn’t some deranged lunatic who had watched the news and let her curiosity about the tragedy bleed into obsession?

  What if the woman had reason to take the baby?

  What if the woman belonged with the baby?

  Christ, she was the mother.

  I took the chance, rising my hands so she could see I was unarmed.

  “You wanted to see your baby.” I waited, listening. “You left her at the store—you didn’t even get a chance to hold her. You had to run. I know that. And now you just want her back.”

  The cries were shushed. A gentle, comforting hush.

  A mother’s attention.

  “You knew she’d be born with an addiction, and you wanted to hide. I understand. You weren’t thinking right. The drugs. The labor. It was too much, and you panicked. Believe me, I understand. I can get you help.”

  I edged closer to the cries. They echoed from a darker, cramped corner of the garage, surrounded by two large trucks leaking fluids and oil. I couldn’t see her, but the baby made enough noise.

  The mother didn’t run.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. That didn’t mean the baby wasn’t in danger.

  I stopped just beyond her little safe haven. No need to encroach and scare her. I’d wait her out.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “I promise. I’ll only be honest, okay? Talk to me now, and I bet I can find a way to help you. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get to stay with your baby. You need help and support to recover from your addiction, and that’s okay. There are programs that can help you, places where you’ll be safe. But you have to work with me now. You have to trust me.”

  Her hushing shrilled a little higher. Scared. Worried.

  I was losing her.

  My heart broke as I pleaded with her in a whisper. “You can leave her. Just put her down, gently. Then you can run. Leave the baby. I’ll take her to the doctors. I won’t chase you. I won’t threaten you. I haven’t even seen your face.
No one has to know that we talked.” I swallowed. The baby wailed now. Too loud in the garage, and far too dangerous to both mother and child if anyone heard. “Please. She’s sick. She needs more care than you could give her if you’re running all on your own.”

  A long moment passed before the mother’s quiet sobbing joined her child’s whimpers. The woman didn’t speak, but her choking cries tore at my heart.

  I rounded the bumper of the truck, hands raised and already whispering gentle comfort.

  I wasn’t ready for this.

  A terrified teenage girl cradled the baby in her lap. Her face streaked with tears. The wetness streaked bright against a deep black and blue bruise that marred her cheek. Her lip had been split too, but the injuries were fresh. Someone had hurt her. Recently.

  The day she gave birth?

  My stomach lurched. No wonder she ran. No wonder she hid in the bathroom to have her baby.

  No wonder she left her behind.

  But a mother’s love was too strong. She had to get her child back no matter the consequences.

  I knelt at her side. She sniffled hard, unable to soothe Hope as she wailed, red-faced and trembling. The girl made no attempt to lift her baby. The exhaustion claimed her, and she simply wept against the dirty concrete.

  “I couldn’t let them find her,” she whispered. “I couldn’t.”

  I brushed her hair from her face, tucking the dark lock behind an ear. How old was she? Seventeen? Maybe? Too young to have a child, but babies having babies didn’t shock me anymore.

  “She has to come with me,” I said. “It’s not safe for her in a parking garage.”

  “Nowhere is safe.”

  “That’s not true. I can get you help.”

  She shook her head, and her entire body trembled. The horror in her voice, her resigned agony, curdled my blood.

  “They’ll kill me and the baby.”

  I had no idea who they were, but I swore I’d find out. “I promise. No one will hurt you.”

  The girl’s eyes darkened, haunted with a fear that I wished I didn’t recognize.

  “It’s too late…I’m already dead.”

  5

  “Ask me any question. I won’t lie.

  But you’ll hate the answers.”

  -Him