The Baby Snatchers

by Chris Taylor

  Georgie thought of his slow and tantalizing once-over and a shiver of remembered heat swept over her. He was a very attractive man and one she wished she could spend more time with, despite the potential minefields surrounding the issue of adoption. Still, just because he had attitude concerning his adoptive parents, that didn’t mean he was against adoption, period. Did it? She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be given the opportunity to find out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The month of May had all but evaporated and soon winter would set in. Pale morning light filtered in through the tinted windows that lined two walls of the squad room. Cameron sat at his desk, methodically going through files and feeling less than enthusiastic.

  “Cameron, have you got a minute?”

  Cameron looked up from his computer screen and nodded toward his boss. “Sure, Holt. I’ll be there in a minute.” He saved the work on his screen and then pushed away from his desk. He met Holt in his office.

  “What can I do for you, boss?”

  Detective Superintendent Holt Denman’s expression was troubled and he took a moment to answer. It looked like he was trying to choose his words with care. Tension slowly took hold in Cam’s gut. “Is everything all right?”

  Holt gave a brief nod and pursed his lips. “Yes. I’ve just had a rather disturbing phone call. It’s taking me a moment to get my head around it.”

  “What is it?”

  “The New South Wales Police Commissioner just called me. He’s had a visit from the premier. The man’s accusing the staff at the Sydney Harbour Hospital of either stealing or murdering his grandson. It appears he can’t quite make up his mind. Apparently the child died suddenly at the hospital a couple of days ago, within hours after his birth.”

  Shock ricocheted through Cam’s body. “What?”

  “Yeah, I know. It sounds ludicrous and the commissioner’s inclined to believe it’s nothing more than shock and grief talking, but the premier’s insisting he has proof.”

  “Wow.”

  Holt grimaced. “Tell me about it.”

  “I can’t wait to hear,” Cam said, breathing a little more freely. His initial shock at Holt’s announcement had worn off.

  The New South Wales Premier, John Jamison, was known for his over-dramatic and somewhat paranoid ways. He’d once accused a cleaner of spying on him from the bathroom adjoining his office. After a comprehensive internal investigation at the expense of the tax payer, it was decided the cleaner, who barely spoke a word of English and had been in Australia less than six months, was merely there to replace the supply of toilet paper and had been oblivious to the premier’s presence.

  “I told him you’d be available to interview him within the next half hour. I understand he’s making his way down from Macquarie Street as we speak.”

  Cam threw his boss a wry grin. “Gee, thanks, boss. What did I do to get on your wrong side today?”

  Holt laughed off the question. “What can I say? I guess you got lucky. You’ve had a bit of free time on your hands since that meth investigation wound up. You might as well put your time to good use. The premier’s interview ought to provide you with an interesting diversion, if nothing else.”

  Cam grimaced and made his way out of Holt’s office. He detoured via the staff tea room and poured his second cup of strong black coffee. It was barely nine in the morning, but, more often than not, he relied on a regular intake of caffeine to get him through the day. It probably wasn’t healthy, but there were a hell of a lot of other vices which were worse. Besides, ever since his sister had moved in, he’d found it hard to sleep and the shot of caffeine lifted him out of the miasma of fatigue.

  Most nights, he’d wake in the middle of the night to the sound of his sister crying. It broke his heart to listen to her distress. He’d found an excellent psychiatrist by the name of Ava Wolfe who’d come highly recommended by the cute midwife at the hospital, but so far, his sister seemed to be making very little progress. It worried him that it had been more than a fortnight and she still cried herself to sleep.

  Was that normal? Perhaps he should be doing more to help her? The problem was, he had no idea what to expect, or what to do. If it were a guy, he’d get him busy with sports, like football or car racing or even hiking in the mountains, but Cynthia was a girl—and a teenager at that. He had no idea what teenage girls did to distract themselves when things got tough.

  Maybe he should contact the midwife? She’d introduced herself as Georgie Whitely and had seemed to care what happened to his sister. Perhaps Ms Whitely could help give him some ideas about what to do. She was a woman and a baby nurse, experienced in dealing with young mothers. She probably knew better than he did what they needed to help them heal when life took an unexpected and tragic turn.

  Thoughts of the spirited midwife suddenly filled his head. The fire in her dark brown eyes and the passion in her voice when she’d spoken to him about his sister remained fixed in his memory. She’d only met Cynthia the day prior to his arrival and yet it was clear the nurse already cared a great deal about what happened to her. Georgie Whitely had a generous heart. She also had a sweet ass and lips that looked so full and soft he couldn’t help but wonder what they’d taste like.

  He could phone her on the pretext of needing advice. It wasn’t really a pretext… After all, she already knew he’d agreed to take care of Cynthia. A fortnight down the track, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he might be experiencing difficulties. Grief was such a personal thing. Everyone dealt with it differently. A teenage girl, mourning the loss of her baby, was not the run-of-the-mill variety.

  Besides, his request for advice wouldn’t be deceitful. He was struggling to know just what it was Cynthia needed. The feeling of helplessness was so foreign to him, frustration was raising its ugly head along with increasing fatigue and the last thing his sister needed was to be living with an irritable brother. He needed to get a handle on things and understand what it was she was going through. Then he might be in a position to help her more effectively, beyond his lame efforts, to date.

  Glancing at his watch, he noticed he still had fifteen minutes before the premier was due to arrive. He reached across his desk for the phone and called directory assistance, seeking the number for the Sydney Harbour Hospital. He didn’t know if Georgie would be at work, but he was willing to give it a shot. Without her private phone number, the hospital was his only way of contacting her.

  He listened while the robotic, computer-generated voice gave him the information he sought. Scrawling the number on a piece of paper for future reference, he ended the call and then dialed again, this time to the hospital. The phone was answered on the second ring.

  “Sydney Harbour Hospital. May I help you?”

  “Could you put me through to Ward Seven, please?”

  Cam waited while the phone rang out again, this time for much longer than before. At last, it was picked up and a woman answered.

  “Ward Seven.”

  Cam cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Ah, I’m wondering if Georgie Whitely is available.”

  “Yes, she is. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Cameron Dawson. My sister was a patient on your ward a fortnight ago. Nurse Whitely took care of her. I was wondering if I could speak with her.”

  There was a slight pause and then the woman answered. “I’ll see if she’s free. I won’t be a minute.”

  Silence greeted him on the other end. Cam knew that at any moment Georgie could pick up the phone to talk to him and his guts twisted with nerves.

  What was he going to say to her? Just come right out with it and ask her for a date? No, that wouldn’t do. He’d play it cool, ask her for advice about Cynthia and gage her reaction; work his way up from there.

  “Georgie Whitely.”

  The sound of her earthy, no-nonsense voice brought back a rush of memories of his all-too-brief encounter with the pretty midwife. Once again, he cleared his throat.

  “Georgie, it’s Cameron Da
wson. I’m—”

  “Cynthia’s brother,” she interrupted. “Yes, I remember. Is she okay?”

  The concern was back in her voice and Cam felt warmth spread through him. Georgie Whitely was just as good and kind as he’d guessed. Throw in the fact she was sexy as hell and he couldn’t help but be interested. He only hoped she was single and that she might be open to getting to know him better.

  Realizing she was still waiting for him to respond, he answered in a rush. “Um, kind of. The thing is, I don’t really know. Cynthia’s been seeing that psychiatrist you recommended and some days she seems all right, but she still cries herself to sleep all the time and I wake up and hear her crying through the night. The truth is, I’m not sure what else I can do to help her. I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

  “Poor Cynthia! She’s so young to be dealing with this kind of stuff! It would get an adult down, let alone a teen! It sounds like you’re doing all the right things. It’s only been a fortnight. It’s going to take some time.”

  “So a fortnight’s not too long to still be completely in distress… Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Grief is a personal thing,” the woman on the other end of the phone explained in a gentle voice. “Some people take longer than others to find their way back to the way they used to be. Give her time. Other than the things you’re already doing, that’s all you can do.”

  Cam swallowed his impatience. “I get that, I really do. But I’m a guy. We fix problems by doing things. It’s the only way we know how. But Cynthia isn’t interested in any of my suggestions to do things and I was hoping that you might have some of your own… Being a woman and all…”

  His words drifted off and he cursed under his breath. Heat crept across his cheeks. But when she spoke again she didn’t sound offended; rather her tone was amused and he was relieved.

  “Well,” she began, “being a woman and all, I’d probably want to be left alone. It’s what we do to fix problems. We turn inward and examine the issue from every angle, analyzing, dissecting, going over it again and again. It’s probably not the best way to deal with grief. In fact, it’s probably the worst thing we can do, but that’s the way it is for many of us.”

  “That’s exactly what Cynthia’s doing!” he exclaimed. “She spends hours in her room with the blinds drawn, sitting alone in the dark. I try and talk with her, to engage her and interest her in other things, but she just keeps shutting me down.”

  “You’re giving her everything she needs right now. A safe place to live, food in her stomach, unconditional love and support. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Losing a loved one, particularly a baby, is tough on everyone. Don’t forget, she’s only sixteen. Like I said, you’re going to have to give her time.”

  “And then what?” he pushed, needing something more concrete to focus on. “Can you suggest anything I can do to help? I can’t stand by and watch her in distress without doing something.”

  Georgie chuckled quietly in his ear. “There you go, wanting to do something again. Men and women are different. We don’t think about things the same way, but if you really do want to do something, how about taking her to the movies, or to a concert given by her favorite local band? What are her hobbies, her interests? What did she do in her spare time, before the baby, before her life took such a tragic turn?”

  Cam frowned and tried to think of anything his sister enjoyed. The truth was, he didn’t know. She’d been a kid when he’d left home and if he were honest, he’d been shocked at the changes in her since he’d last seen her. The physical signs of her grief were difficult to take, but the other signs of the life she’d lived beforehand jarred him even more.

  The first time he’d seen her, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed for longer than he cared to think. Her fingernails were chipped and broken and stained with what looked like years of dirt, despite the fact he was almost certain she would have been given a shower prior to giving birth. She’d worn a clean white hospital gown that day, but still the unmistakeable stench of body odor had permeated the air. Apart from her big blue eyes that had filled with tears upon seeing him, she looked nothing like the little girl he remembered from his unsettling past.

  Though he was burning to know what had happened in the years since he’d been tossed out of their family home, he accepted her need for solitude and for time to come to terms with the death of her child. The little information he’d been able to glean from her was that she’d run away from home. He could only assume relations had deteriorated even more between her and their parents after he’d left.

  A few nights earlier, they’d both been unable to sleep and found themselves out on the balcony. She hadn’t offered any details why she’d left home, but she’d told him about the father of her baby and how she’d met him on the street. Albert, the baby’s dad, was a little older than her and kind of cute and most of all, he’d made her laugh. For nearly a year they’d been sharing space and comforting each other in an abandoned warehouse. And then she’d realized she was pregnant.

  Cam was secretly horrified that she’d risked her health in such a dangerous way by having unprotected sex—even if it was with only one partner—but he forced his anxious thoughts away in an effort to concentrate on what she was trying to share with him about her past. She wasn’t stupid, by any means, but it wasn’t like she was in a position to head to the nearest drugstore and purchase what was required.

  It was obvious she’d been needy, starved for love and affection. Albert had come along and offered her the comfort she so desperately wanted. At the time, getting pregnant was probably the least of his sister’s worries.

  He wanted to ask if she’d been tested for STDs, but didn’t want to say or do anything to disturb their fragile connection. He could only hope the hospital had a policy and tested the young moms for those things as a matter of course.

  Now, he waited for answers from another woman and wondered what she’d say. He only hoped that it would be something he could put into practice to ease the suffering from his little sister’s face.

  “What if I take her somewhere?” she suggested.

  Georgie’s question broke into his thoughts and he snapped back to attention.

  “I could take her to a spa,” she added. “We could have a facial or a massage. We could even do our nails. I’ve been planning to do that anyway, as a way to relax on a day off. Do you think she’d enjoy something like that?”

  Cam blinked. It had never occurred to him that Cynthia might like a day of pampering and relaxation, but the more he pondered it, the more he thought she would. He still remembered when she was a little girl, how much she loved painting her nails. She’d prance around the house with a different color on every finger and proudly wave them in front of his face.

  ‘Look, Cam! Aren’t they pretty? Don’t you just love the colors?’ she’d say. Then she’d giggle. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

  “I think it’s a great idea!” he said. “But I can’t expect you to take her. I mean, you barely know her. I get that you care, and I think that’s great, but—”

  “Cameron, I’m happy to do it. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  Cam’s gut clenched at her use of his name. It was the first time she’d called him anything other than Mr Dawson. The name had never sat well with him. As far as he was concerned, Mr Dawson was his father. One of the things Cam liked about being a police officer was that he was forever introduced as Detective Sergeant Dawson. No more Mr Dawson for him and that’s just the way he liked it.

  Now, indecision gnawed at his gut. He wanted so much to accept Georgie’s invitation, but was it fair to have her do this for them?

  No, not for them. For his sister. He had to remind himself she was offering to do it because she was kind and good, not because she wanted to get inside his pants. A guilty flush swept over his cheeks, but he refused to pay it any heed. So what if he found her attractive? It wasn’t a crime and it wasn’t like he could help it
. If she didn’t feel the same way about him, then so be it. At least he would have given it a try. And in the meantime, she might just be able to help his little sister, and for that, he’d do anything.

  He released the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding and blew it out on a relieved sigh. “Okay. Thank you. I… I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

  She laughed. “Well, I haven’t done anything yet, but let’s hope Cynthia responds. It’s important for her to embrace the world again and every good thing in it. She’s young. She’s resilient. Be patient. All she needs is—”

  “Time,” he interrupted with a smile. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

  “When do you think I should call on her?” Georgie asked.

  “I’m at work at the moment, but I’ll speak with her tonight. I’ll phone you later, if you like. Are there any days you aren’t available? When’s your next day off?”

  “I have a couple of days off coming up. If you let me know in the morning whether she’s keen, I’ll have time to book an appointment at the day spa.”

  Cam nodded in satisfaction. “It sounds like a plan.”

  “I’ll give you my cell number. That way you can reach me when I’m away from work.” She gave Cam the details and straight away he added them to his phone.

  He’d achieved even more than he’d set out to, having not only obtained her help with Cynthia, but he’d gained the promise of her company, too. Okay, so he wouldn’t be accompanying them to the spa, but she still had to come to his home to collect his sister and then return her again. That presented an array of opportunities, limited only by his imagination.