by Rebecca York
Steve stared at the hypnotizing pattern that danced across the screen,
but instead of noting the frequency modulation, he was remembering the
heartbeat charted on the monitor attached to Shannon's little body in
the neonatal unit.
He felt a hollow place open inside his chest and looked away.
A few minutes later, the regular modulation pattern was broken by
random spikes.
"'Well, well, what have we here?"
Jason froze the frame so they could get a closer look.
"A bug?
'That's my best guess.
We'll know for sure when we find it.
They spent the next hour checking under drawers, dismantling lamp
fixtures, and inspecting everything from flower pots to wall molding.
"Hey, I think I've found something."
Steve gestured to the picture of Abby on his desk.
A black disc about the size of a small fingernail was tucked inside a
corner of the dismantled frame.
Jason took a magnifying glass from his pocket and studied the foreign
object.
Before commenting, he dropped it into a shielded case.
"Yeah, it's a DM-2485.
CIA issue, late eighties.
There are some jazzier lasercontrolled models on the market today, but
this one's pretty durable for short-range pickups.
I've even planted a few of these myself.
"So you think McGuire and Driscoll are CIA?"
Steve asked as he slid Abby's picture back into the wooden frame and
set it up on the desk.
of44 Maybe.
Maybe not.
They haven't come up in any our data bases, but we'll take this baby
apart in the lab and run the serial numbers through the computer to see
if we can trace it to the Defense Department.
We might get lucky, but there's a lot of electronic surveillance stuff
on the black market.
" As he packed up the equipment, Jason dispensed some tips about
tightening office security.
"Thanks for coming out," Steve said as he helped reload the van.
"Sure. Glad I could help. We'll let you know what we find out. And
if there's anything else you need, just give me a call."
"Will do."
As soon as the van pulled away, Steve kicked a shower of stones from
the pebbled border along the blacktop.
He'd been right about the covert surveillance, but all it proved was
that he was up against a couple of professionals.
ABBY WATCHED S steer -the car into a parking space in the Freeman
Memorial lot.
In just a few minutes, they Were bringing their child home, and Abby
was bursting with excitement.
But below the exhilaration was a nagging feeling of guilt.
When her husband started to pull the keys from the ignition, she laid
her hand over his.
"Steve, I'm glad we're both here today."
"Did you think I wasn't going to drive the two of you home from the
hospital?"
"I wasn't sure. We didn't talk about it until this morning."
Silently he put the keys in his pocket, but she could see him watching
her from the corner of his eye.
"When I woke up, I was so thrilled about bringing Shannon home. The
first thing I wanted to do was share that with you. But you were
already downstairs making coffee. So I lay in bed thinking about the
past few weeks. I haven't shared much with you, have I?"
She swallowed painfully.
"I always tell my patients that it's as important to talk about the
rotten stuff as well as the good. But I was so scared... I-I couldn't
... I'm sorry."
Steve moved then, turning and pulling her across the console as he
wrapped his arms around her shoulders .
"It wasn't just you. I was doing that, too," he said in a gruff
voice.
Abby closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest, breathing in
the familiar scent of his body.
His fingers stroked through her hair, and she curled her arms around
his neck, swamped by a rush of physical sensations.
Her husband was such a physical person.
And being married to him had made her that way, too.
She brushed her lips against his cheek.
"I think that part of the problem was that we couldn't make love.
But I should have tried not to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the
pillow.
A low, angry sound welled up in his chest.
"No, you were running yourself ragged. You needed your rest.
Maybe if I'd shown a little restraint six weeks ago, we wouldn't be in
this fix.
Abby's head jerked up.
"What?"
"I've read those books on your bedside table. Having intercourse can
make a woman go into labor. Like you did-the morning after the last
time I made love to your Abby felt her heart turn over." Oh, Steve.
You haven't been thinking all this time that it was your fault, have
you?
Is that why you've hardly been talking to me?
He didn't answer.
"The doctor hadn't told us to stop. It wasn't necessary. I wasn't
having any problems. And I wasn't due for a couple of months."
"Then why the bell did you have her so early?"
Abby swallowed.
"I thought it might have been something I'd done."
Steve swore under his breath.
"You've been worried about that ... I didn't realize..."
"I've talked to Dr. Goodman. He doesn't know why it happened. He
called it bad luck. I've been trying to make it up to her by doing
everything I could. Shannon wasn't at home to wake me up in the middle
of the night for feedings, so I'd nap in the afternoon and then come
back down here..."
"Now it's going to be a lot easier for you. She'll be right in the
nursery down the hall from our bedroom."
"Yes."
Sighing, Abby turned her face into his neck and closed her eyes,
feeling better than she had in weeks.
Slowly, as his hand stroked up and down her arm; the tenor of the
embrace changed.
When his fingers barely brushed against the side of her breast, warmth
and arousal she'd been suppressing for weeks stirred within her.
"Steve, I've missed you."
He turned her in his arms and began to nibble at her lips.
She smiled against his mouth.
"You taste good," he whispered huskily.
"Just the way I remember."
"So do you. So very good."
He took her full bottom lip between his teeth and bit gently.
At the familiar erotic gesture, a bolt of pleasure shot downward
through her body.
She knew he felt her response.
"I thought you didn't want me," he whispered, his lips millimeters from
hers.
"If you'd kissed me like that, I would have wanted your " I was afraid
to start anything.
"So was I."
"God, it's been forever."
The kiss deepened, and his hand came up between them to cup her breast
through the clingy fabric of her knit top.
When his thumb stroked across her hardened nipple, she drew in a sharp
little breath.
For a moment, she wondered if he'd be turned off by her breasts when he
saw them .
&nb
sp; They were heavy with milk, and the nipples were large and dark.
Then she stopped thinking about anything besides the wonderful
sensations her husband was creating with his hands and lips.
When they finally broke the contact, Abby was breathing hard-and the
blood was pounding through her veins.
She flattened her palm against Steve's chest, feeling the wild beating
of his heart.
'When can we .
?
" he asked, his voice rough with urgency.
"I've got an appointment with Dr. Goodman tomorrow."
"So tonight I guess we're going to have to improvise."
Abby giggled, her spirit lighter than spun sugar.
"Yeah."
A car gunned its engine, and she glanced up, startled.
Then she turned her head and smoothed her hair.
For a while she'd forgotten everything except Steve.
However, the two of them were sitting in a public parking lot in broad
daylight making out like a pair of teenagers on a deserted lovers'
lane.
"I guess I wasn't thinking about where we were," Steve muttered,
echoing her thoughts.
i 'Mmm.
' "Abby."
His tone had turned serious.
"What?"
-"I was worried about Shannon, too."
4 I 1know.
"She was so small. And there were all those tubes and wires and
monitors. I was afraid she'd break-or I'd mess up some of the
connections-if I tried to pick her up."
"I felt that way, too, the first time I held her."
Steve's eyes had turned the dark stormy blue that signaled strong
emotions.
"I'm going to try to be a good father to her. Not like my dad."
"I've known that all along."
He looked at his watch.
"The nursing staff is probably wondering where we are."
After stepping out onto the sidewalk, Steve reached into the back
seat'for the rectangular diaper bag Abby had packed several days
earlier.
Inside, along with the usual baby supplies, was a tiny green dress with
pink rosebuds that Shannon was going to wear on the trip home.
Slinging the plastic strap over his shoulder as if he were thoroughly
accustomed to carrying a diaper bag, Steve came around to Abby's side
of the car.
When they started up the sidewalk toward the main entrance, he reached
for her hand.
he gave his fingers an encouraging squeeze.
When he squeezed back, she smiled.
"Thanks for being here."
"Abby, I'm trying-" "I know."
'We'll get Shannon settled in her room.
Then I'll pick up some takeout so you don't have to worry about fixing
dinner.
"Thanks."
Her grip tightened on his hand.
"Are you going to tell me what else has been bothering you?"
"Stuff at work."
"Can I help?"
He shook his head.
"I'm trying to get it cleared up."
They had reached the hospital entrance.
Steve pulled open the glass door, and they stepped into the cool, quiet
interior.
The neonatology ward was on the second floor.
As soon as the elevator opened, Abby knew something unusual was going
on.
Several staffers milled around the nursing station.
A security guard leaned over the desk, talking rapidly into the
telephone.
And a woman from the administrative staff was striding down the hall
toward the nursery.
The head nurse, Mrs. Daly, a tiny woman with iron-gray hair, came
rushing toward the elevator.
"Dr. Franklin, Mr. Claiborne.
We've been trying to get you on the phone.
You weren't by any chance here earlier, were you?
"No. What's wrong?"
Abby asked, feeling her mouth go dry,even as she got the words out.
"Is-is something wrong with Shannon?"
The woman's expression knocked the air from Abby's lungs.
Without waiting for an explanation, she began to run down the hall
toward the nursery.
"Wait," someone called after her.
She heard something bulky thunk to the floor behind her, but she didn't
break her stride.
Heavy footsteps kept pace with her.
Palming the latch and throwing open the door, she skidded to a stop in
front of the isolette where Shannon had been sleeping yesterday
evening.
It was empty.
Chapter Three Leaning over the little crib, Abby stared down at the
smooth, white mattress.
If she looked closely, she could see the indentation where a tiny body
had lain.
A second later, Steve came up behind her, his hands gripping her
arms.
Mrs. Daly, puffing hard, skidded to a stop, almost bumping into him.
"Is she ... s-sick ... ? What ... ?"
Abby choked out, her fingers gripping the curved plastic side of the
bed.
"Where have you taken her?"
"She's not sick. At least, we don't think so-" Steve whirled to face
the nurse.
"Then what the hell's going on?"
Mrs. Daly's arms dropped heavily to her sides.
"Your daughter has disappeared."
"But that's impossible!"
Abby gasped.
She didn't realize her knees had buckled until she felt Steve's hands
under her elbows, supporting her weight.
"Sweetheart, let go of the crib. You've got to sit down."
His fingers tried to loosen hers.
As if she'd just discovered that her hands still worked, she suddenly
let go.
Steve steered her toward a chair, and she sank down heavily.
Then he rounded on the nurse.
"Explain."
"The only thing I know is that Shannon Claiborne is missing. We were
going to get her ready for you, but she wasn't in her bed."
"Mssing! What the hell kind of security do you have around this
place?"
Steve roared.
Mrs. Daly took a step back.
"We're checking to see if another department has her, for tests or a
procedure."
"What tests?"
Steve continued to grill the woman.
"Well, nothing was ordered by Dr. Wilmer. But sometimes there are
mix-ups. We're hoping-" Steve swore vehemently.
"You're telling me you can't find our daughter? You don't even know
whether she's in the hospital?"
Abby listened in growing horror.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep her body from
shaking.
Shannon wasn't here.
They didn't know where she was.
"Have you called the police?"
Steve asked.
"No, we" Do it!
The woman bounded off like a donkey that had been swatted on the
rump.
The commotion had awakened several tiny babies, who began to.
cry.
Abby stared at the closest one as if she'd just come out of a drugged
sleep.
Mrs. Daly had said there was a mix-up.
MaybeScrambling out of her chair, she peered down at the red-faced
infant.
Not Shannon.
Heart beating, hoping against hope, Abby checked the other residents of
the nursery.
