The Baby Thief

by L. J. Sellers

  Subconsciously, he kept looking for the black truck. Not knowing exactly where he was going, he half-heartedly hoped he might run into Grafton, the ex-con, who would lead him to the secluded church. Eric knew it was wishful thinking. Just as finding Jenna was not likely. Yet he couldn’t stop trying any more that he could cease to breathe. Letting go of things had never been easy for him.

  He pulled off the road in the tiny town of Leaburg to call Joe, but got his message service again. He started to call Jackson, then changed his mind. What was the point? Even if Jackson learned the location of the church, he wouldn’t share it with Eric. The police were like that. Moving stiffly, Eric climbed into the Firebird and continued west.

  The sky had cleared to a pale gray, and the temperature was dropping. He had the heat turned up high but couldn’t seem to get warm. Eric ate one of the Snickers, thinking it would help his blood sugar, but the trembling continued. He wished he’d bought and installed a new radio like he’d planned. Music, or even the sound of someone’s voice, would help keep his spirits up.

  After a while, he felt lightheaded. Eric opened the window to take in extra oxygen and kept going. He was determined to make it to Deercreek Road before he pulled off to rest. As the day wore on, traffic increased in both directions. He worried about drifting out of his lane and causing an accident. Eric quit watching for the black truck, downed most of the coffee, and fought to stay alert.

  Half an hour later, he rounded the sharp curve that came before the turnoff to Deercreek. Eric slowed and watched carefully to the right. The gravel road was about seven miles this side of Blue River and unmarked by anything other than an old sign that had fallen down years ago. The only reason Eric knew the location was that he’d ridden out here once with an environmentalist who wanted to show him a particularly heinous clear-cut.

  The narrow gravel road twisted its way slowly uphill into the cool, dark pines. Relieved to be away from traffic, Eric relaxed his grip on the wheel. The heat in his car was stifling, yet he continued to shiver. His chest wound throbbed with a steady, hot rhythm. Eric broke into a cold sweat.

  He knew he needed to stop and sleep for a while, but he pushed ahead, navigating each curve as cautiously as an old woman. Eric kept going until his head lolled from side to side. He braked to a stop, shut the car off, and promptly dozed off.

  Chapter 44

  1:27 p.m.

  Once the embryos were transferred, Carmichael felt a tremendous relief. He whistled softy as he moved around the lab, sterilizing equipment and listening to Liz talk about pregnancy. As soon as he put everything in order, he could load Jenna into the van and get her out of his church. He wished Zeke were here to help him. Liz wouldn’t be able to get up for hours. He chuckled softly to himself. Liz wouldn’t be much help anyway.

  Rachel burst into the room. “Jenna’s gone!”

  “What?” Carmichael spun around.

  “I just went to check on her, and she’s gone.” Rachel seemed more nervous than frightened. “Her restraints had been undone. Someone let her go.”

  Carmichael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You let her go, didn’t you?”

  “Of course not!” Rachel shouted back. She was obviously distressed and Carmichael believed her.

  Minutes! He’d been minutes away from transporting Jenna out of here. God damn it to hell anyway. Carmichael turned to Liz. “Don’t get up or you’ll lose the embryos. I’ll find her.”

  He grabbed a syringe and dashed from the room before she could respond. A thunderous roar filled his ears, and he didn’t trust himself not to hurt anyone who stepped into his path. Fueled by panic, he sprinted up the stairs. Carmichael could feel it all sliding away, the church, his clinic, his chance to be a father again.

  He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let Jenna see the compound or be found anywhere near his property. She needed another hearty dose of ketamine and a long trip north before she started talking to anyone.

  Carmichael reached the central tower room. Danielle, a young timid woman with a horrible scar on her face, was coming down from the platform.

  “Reverend Carmichael! I just saw the strangest thing. Sarah and a woman I’ve never seen before just ran across the south field to the edge of the woods.”

  Stunned, Carmichael thought he must have misunderstood. “Tamara’s Sarah?”

  Danielle nodded. “I’m as surprised as you are, but I’m sure of it.”

  Carmichael shook his head. What was going on? “Thank you, Danielle.” He touched her on the shoulder. “Now get back up and keep an sharp eye out.”

  “Yes, sir.” She scurried up the circular steps.

  Rachel came panting up from the clinic, calling out to him. Carmichael ignored her and ran toward the kitchen, the most direct route to the south field. Sarah’s involvement was such a mystery. The last he’d heard, Sarah had ditched Rachel in Eugene after they left the hospital. How had she gotten back to the compound and into the clinic? Had he left the labor room door unlocked after Jenna’s oocyte retrieval?

  Carmichael wished Zeke was by his side. Zeke would track Jenna down like a hunting dog after a fox. Why hadn’t he heard from him?

  He charged through the kitchen, oblivious to the women who called after him, their voices shrill with confusion and drama. Their tranquil lives had been subject to more commotion in the last few days than they usually saw in a year. Lungs aching, Carmichael burst through the mudroom into the greenhouse. He ran straight into Sarah, knocking her to the ground. Concerned that he’d injured the girl, he stopped and turned.

  “Are you all right?” He reached out to offer help. Eyes blazing with anger, Sarah grasped his hand in a painful grip and pulled herself up.

  “Answer me, Sarah, are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not. I need to talk to you.”

  Exasperated, Carmichael jerked his hand free. “Not now. If you’re hurt, see Rachel. She should be coming along any second.” He turned and started to jog away.

  “Why did you make Darcie pregnant?”

  Carmichael froze. When had she talked to Darcie? And for God’s sake, why was everything coming apart now? He turned to face her. “I didn’t! Darcie is confused and untrustworthy. Now, please. I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.”

  The look of disbelief on Sarah’s face hurt him deeply. Carmichael wanted to reach out, draw her back into the fold. It would have to wait. He turned and trotted into the field. Jenna had to be found and brought back, at least for now. It shouldn’t be too difficult, he told himself. After nine days in bed, she would be weak and disoriented from the drugs. She wouldn’t get far.

  Carmichael heard Sarah running after him, and he silently cursed her. If she didn’t back off, he would be forced to use the syringe he’d brought for Jenna on Sarah instead. In a few moments, the girl caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

  “Why was Jenna being kept here?” Sarah shouted and pulled against him, trying to slow him down. Her strength surprised him. “What kind of man are you, Reverend?”

  Carmichael stopped and shook free. He took a moment to speak as gently as he could, considering the magnitude of his stress. “I am the same man you have always known. Jenna is a drug addict and her family asked me to keep her here until she was free of her addiction. Now I must find her before she hurts herself or becomes lost and dies of exposure.”

  Sarah’s expression progressed from relief to confusion to disbelief. “Why did you do a laparoscopy on her?”

  Carmichael started to give her the same story he’d told Rachel, then decided he didn’t have time. Sarah was working against him and needed to be put on hold. Carmichael grabbed her shoulder and plunged the needle into her deltoid, giving her only half the dose. Sarah started to protest, but muted squawking sounds came out instead. She staggered backwards and collapsed.

  Carmichael left her prone in the barren cornfield. The sun was warm and she would be fine. She would wake in a few hours and not remember a thing, maybe not even ho
w she’d helped Jenna escape. He would deal with Sarah later. Carmichael turned back to the compound. Jenna had too great a head start on him now. He needed to get the van and cut her off where the trail reached the road. Jogging, he headed east across the field to where he kept the van outside his office. He noticed several women watching him from just inside the greenhouse.

  Had they seen him with Sarah? Of course they had, he thought bitterly. He would have a lot of explaining to do, but the Sisters loved him and would take it in stride. Once Jenna was safely transferred, he could put his church and daily routine back together. Damn Elizabeth! Damn her selfishness. She had made it seem so simple, so harmless. Just grab the woman, pump her full of hormones, then harvest and transfer a few eggs. Throw in a few memory repressing drugs and drop her a hundred miles from home and she would never know what happened.

  They hadn’t counted on the reporter witnessing the kidnapping. Or Sarah getting nosy. Carmichael still couldn’t figure out she’d become involved. He remembered at the last moment to dash down to the clinic for another syringe of ketamine and Versed. He ignored Elizabeth’s questions and pleas to be careful. He knew it must be killing her to stay on the examining table and depend on him to get the situation under control, but he couldn’t take time to reassure her.

  Carmichael rushed up the stairs. At first he ignored the women and children who’d come out of their sewing circles and classrooms to whisper and stare. But they had been loyal, and he owed them something.

  “Pray for me,” he called out as he ran through the foyer and into the chapel. He ducked into his office to grab his keys, then out his private entrance to the van.

  Chapter 45

  1:33 p.m.

  The path wasn’t really a path at all, but a barely discernible trail. The pinecones cut her feet and Jenna kept stubbing her toes on rocky inclines. But she kept running, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm that was very familiar. She checked over her shoulder a few times, but no one was back there.

  She was free. She was free. She was free. The words kept playing in her brain like a mantra. As she moved farther and farther from the prison, her fear gave way to exhilaration. She wasn’t even sure what she’d escaped from. Her mind was still a mess of foggy images and long dark blanks, but it didn’t matter at the moment. She was free.

  She hurt everywhere, but she was alive. Jenna’s legs stayed strong, despite the pain, all those miles of jogging paying off. She was cold and hungry and didn’t know where she would find sanctuary, but she was free.

  The sun was up beyond the shade of the trees, still high in the sky. Jenna guessed it was early afternoon. Sarah had said Blue River was twenty-five miles away. It felt wonderful to know her actual time and place after being in a black hole, drugged and disoriented, for God only knew how long.

  Jenna pushed herself, trying to keep up her pace even when the trail went uphill. Her feet eventually grew numb to the stinging pine needles and cold rocks. She planned to run until she hit the first road Sarah mentioned. After that she would run and walk in intervals as long as she could. Twenty-five miles to Blue River. She could do that in five hours.

  Maybe.

  By the time Jenna reached the dirt track, she was ready to collapse. She sank to a bed of pine needles and leaned her head against a tree. Her heart worked overtime and her legs trembled with exhaustion. She had never felt so vulnerable. Wearing only a nightgown, weak and disoriented, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere. The silence itself was frightening.

  Jenna drifted off, her brain visiting the dark place to rest.

  She woke to the rumble of a truck engine. Someone was coming! She would be saved! Jenna struggled to clear her mind again. She had to be coherent when the truck came by. The way she looked, they might think she was a mental patient or a lunatic. She had to sound rational if she expected someone to give her a ride.

  Slowly she stood and brushed herself off. The truck sounded close now, but the trees were so thick and the road so curvy, she couldn’t see it. The sound was coming from the right. Sarah had said to turn right at the dirt road and follow it to… Jenna couldn’t remember the name of the second road. The vehicle was going the wrong way to give her a ride.

  A black truck rounded the curve and stopped in front of her.

  Or had Sarah said turn left? Jenna was confused and frightened.

  The man at the wheel rolled down his window.

  Jenna thought he looked familiar. It didn’t matter, she realized too late. He was headed in the direction of the prison.

  He called her name.

  Jenna bolted. But she was exhausted, and the man overcame her in seconds. He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her to a painful stop. A gun pressed into her ribcage. For a second, Jenna wished he would shoot her and this horrible nightmare would end. It would be better to die than return to the gray room and mind fog of the prison. She was breathing too hard to taunt him. She twisted to face him. The man lifted the gun as if to strike her. The air filled with dust and the rumble of an engine. They both turned to see a white van thunder to a stop two feet away.

  “Zeke! No!” The preacher/doctor shouted just as Jenna’s head exploded in pain.

  * * *

  When Zeke saw the woman sitting by the road, he decided to drag her into the woods, put a bullet in her head, and be done with it. No one would ever find her out here. But fucking Carmichael had to show up. Now the Reverend was kneeling next to Jenna, trying to stop her bleeding.

  “How the hell did she get loose?” Zeke demanded. He had no intention of taking any shit from the Reverend.

  “Sarah untied her and led her out of the church.”

  “I thought Sarah was still in town.”

  “I don’t understand either. Right now it hardly matters. Help me get her in the van.” Carmichael was gently pressing his hands against the unconscious woman’s head where Zeke had struck her with the gun.

  Zeke’s brain raced, trying to form a new plan. He was tempted to shoot both Carmichael and Jenna, then get in the truck and hightail it for the border. That would leave Elizabeth to blame him for the kidnapping. He wondered if Liz was at the compound.

  “Did you do the transfer thing already?” Zeke bent down and grabbed Jenna by the legs.

  “Yes.” Carmichael lifted Jenna’s torso.

  “Is Liz at the compound?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just curious.” They started toward the van, Jenna between them. Zeke felt a stab of pain on the upper left side of his chest. He must have strained a pectoral picking her up, he thought with disgust. He needed to start working out again.

  “Were you planning to take her out of here today?” It took him a while to say it, he was breathing so hard. Maybe he ought to quit smoking too.

  “I have to. I was hoping you’d show up to help me.” Carmichael gave him a look, questioning where Zeke had been. Zeke ignored it. Carmichael opened the side doors and they laid Jenna on the floor. The Reverend pulled the syringe from his pocket and gave her an injection.

  “We have to go back to the compound first,” Carmichael announced, pulling the needle out. “To get some restraints and a blanket to cover her. This is going to be a long trip.”

  A quick stop at the compound was fine with Zeke. All he needed was five minutes to grab the Reverend’s financial files from the church office. And maybe the cash Carmichael kept stashed.

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “North. To a little town just across the Washington border.”

  Beautiful. Zeke would convince Carmichael to bring Liz along, then he would shoot all three of them when they reached their destination. Or somewhere along the way. It hardly mattered as long as there were no witnesses and the bodies were left in a different jurisdiction with no IDs. The confusion would buy him time.

  “I’ll ride with you and keep an eye on her.”

  Zeke was proud of himself for thinking it through. He never planned for any of it to turn out this way and didn’t like to thi
nk of himself as a killer. Carmichael and his girlfriend had started this shit, and he didn’t feel sorry for them. He felt bad about Jenna though. She seemed much worse for the wear, and who knew what Carmichael had done to her mind with all those drugs. She’d be better off dead.

  It was a relief to know he wouldn’t leave any loose ends or people to point a finger at him. He could start his new life without looking over his shoulder wondering when the law would catch up with him. Zeke leaned back against the seat and massaged the pain in his left shoulder.

  Chapter 46

  3:07 p.m.

  Eric woke with his face in a puddle of drool. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. After a moment of confusion, he recognized the interior of his car. He tried to sit up, but his chest hurt. Eric pushed with his elbows and gritted his teeth against the pain. Blood rushed from his head and he felt dizzy. He remembered driving and feeling his head spin. When the grogginess cleared, Eric looked around. All he saw were tall pine trees and a narrow gravel road.

  It came back to him slowly. Being stabbed, seeing his attacker in the hospital, searching for Carmichael’s church. Eric opened his blue denim shirt to check his wound. The bandage was soaked with blood but still intact. He left it in place. He must have pulled some stitches out. No wonder he’d been dizzy. The blood on the bandage was dark and congealed, no longer flowing freely. He felt weak but decided he’d be all right. He’d come too far to turn back now.

  Pressure in his bladder forced him out of the car, as the jumbo coffee demanded release. Eric discovered the Firebird was parked in the middle of the road. He walked to an opening in the trees, then shuffled another twenty feet into the woods before relieving himself. He didn’t expect company; it was a privacy thing.

  With that distraction out of the way, he took in his surroundings and realized he was standing in the middle of an old dirt, logging road with ruts so deep it was barely discernible as a path for vehicles. The road didn’t look as if it was used often, but it did look as if it had been used recently.