The Baby Thief

by L. J. Sellers

  Earlier, someone had splashed through the deep chuckhole where the two roads met, leaving a trail of wet tire marks that gradually disappeared into the forest. The black truck. Eric could picture it bouncing through an hour before. He hurried back to the Firebird and turned it around.

  Adrenaline rushed through his system, giving Eric new strength. He bounced along the rough road wishing he had four-wheel drive—with a shotgun mounted in the cab. Approaching the hideout alone and unarmed was dangerous. Eric was scared, but he couldn’t stop or turn back. He remembered that he had softball stuff in the trunk, including a bat. The knot in his stomach relaxed a little. A bat could be useful.

  The road twisted and dipped and climbed. Eric kept his foot off the gas, not willing to risk tearing out his suspension. He felt himself getting weak again, so he ate the other Snickers. After driving for an hour, he noticed the trees began to thin and the mountain seemed to rise straight up around him. In a moment, Eric got his first sight of the structure that had been the home of gun-loving survivalists and now was the Church of the Reborn. It was huge and gray and had a cluster of smaller buildings connected by covered walkways. It reminded Eric of the prison he’d visited two days before.

  Why would a religious commune be out here in the middle of nowhere? What were they hiding?

  A cold prickly sensation ran up his back. Eric eased off the road and shut the engine down. He could see a gray van, a dark blue Lexus, and an old white truck parked under a long carport on the left side of the main building. Where was the black truck? Was Grafton not here? Eric wished he knew what he was up against. The thought of running into either Carmichael or the ex-con chilled the sweat on his chest. If he could maintain the element of surprise, Eric thought he might have a chance of finding Jenna—and coming out alive.

  Chapter 47

  3:35 p.m.

  Elizabeth heard double footsteps thumping down David’s private stairs from his office above. She lifted her head and glanced through the windows in the lab doors in time to see the men set Jenna down on the surgery table. Her face and head were covered with blood. No! Oh, please, no. She couldn’t be dead. Elizabeth’s insides went cold. Ralph’s voice came back. Killer liar whore killer. No! How could this have happened?

  Zeke! Of course. The bastard. Why hadn’t David stopped him? Elizabeth heard David and Zeke’s muted voices, then the sound of Zeke clomping into the hallway and up the main stairs. What was going on now? Why didn’t David come in and talk to her? He knew she couldn’t get up. She started to call out to him, then stopped when she heard David’s voice. Was he talking to Jenna?

  Was her sister still alive or had David lost his mind? His voice was so gentle and loving. Elizabeth slid off the gurney bed and hurried to the connecting door.

  She watched through the Plexiglas as David meticulously cleaned her sister’s wounds, making soothing noises as he worked. Jenna was alive! Relief washed over Elizabeth. She would have never been able to live with herself if Jenna had died. What kind of mother could she be with her sister’s death on her conscience? How would she ever look her daughter in the eye?

  The embryos!

  Elizabeth clutched her abdomen. What was she doing standing here?

  She hurried back to the hospital bed. Was it too late? The survival rate for IVF embryos was less than fifty percent. Had she blown the whole cycle with one thoughtless moment? Ralph’s voice gently mocked her. Barren barren barren barren.

  David pushed through the doors as she eased into a reclining position. “Zeke wants us all to drive to Washington with Jenna.”

  “Why?” Elizabeth sat up. She wasn’t going anywhere yet. “What happened to Jenna? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. Zeke thinks the police could raid the church at any moment and that we should get her out of here right now.” David moved toward the bed. New wrinkles had worked their way into the skin around his mouth. “I think he’s right.”

  “Because of the reporter?” Sharp spikes of tension streaked up Elizabeth’s neck. She wondered if it was too soon to take another Valium. “Because of those pictures in the paper?”

  “There’s more, but we don’t have time to talk right now. I need to pack both of us a small bag and get Jenna ready to travel.”

  “I want to keep one of her ovaries.”

  “What?” David was stunned.

  “We should harvest one ovary and sustain it with fetal tissue and hormones. It’s been done.” Elizabeth spoke rapidly, remembering the article she’d read recently. “A team of researchers in Australia–”

  “But why?” David cut her off.

  “In case these embryos don’t survive.” Elizabeth felt the hot pressure of tears build behind her eyes. She clenched her fists. Why was she getting emotional now? “I’ve been under a lot of stress these last few days.” She stopped and swallowed hard. “Then these last few hours of waiting and not knowing what was going on has been pure hell. What baby would implant itself in this negative environment?”

  “Your embryos will be fine. Stop worrying.” David stroked her hair and made soothing noises.

  Despite his many weaknesses, he was a kind man, Elizabeth thought. “Will you do the surgery? Keep an ovary for me?” She felt better already, her emotions fading as quickly as they came.

  “There isn’t time, Liz.” David looked weary, older than she’d ever seen him.

  “It would only take an hour. Or less. You shouldn’t take her out of here until after dark anyway.” Elizabeth grabbed his pale, delicate hands. “Please, David. Think of the research possibilities. You could make medical history.”

  “But no one would ever know,” David mumbled, but his eyes danced with intrigue.

  “What have you got to lose?”

  “Everything, if the police get here while I’m operating.”

  Elizabeth was silent. She didn’t believe the police were on their way. Nobody even knew where the damn church was. It was just Zeke’s way of trying to control the situation.

  “There isn’t time, Liz. We all need to get out of here.”

  “I’m not going unless we do the harvest.”

  David shrugged. “We’ll go without you. If you stay and the police come, you’ll be arrested and questioned.”

  “I’ll tell them everything. You and Zeke will be picked up before you drop her off.” It was a bluff, but Elizabeth was determined to have one more chance. She had a bad feeling about today’s transfer. Jenna only needed one ovary for herself. If they could keep the other one alive and harvest more oocytes, she could have that chance.

  “Elizabeth.” David collapsed in a chair, unable to finish his plea.

  “Less than an hour, David.” Elizabeth felt animated, suddenly realizing the full possibilities of what she had planned. “Just think. We can create and freeze as many embryos as we can produce for as long as we keep the ovary alive.”

  “Which Australian doctors and where did you read this article?” David pretended to be skeptical, but Elizabeth could tell he was intrigued by the challenge.

  “Jochian and Weber, last month’s Journal of Embryonic Medicine.”

  “You said fetal tissue?”

  “Monkeys and pigs, they claim, but you know researchers are using aborted fetuses for various types of gene therapy.”

  David nodded. “Pig fetal tissue has proven to be a great culture medium.”

  “Then you’ll do it?”

  “You’ll have to assist.”

  She should have expected it. David always struck a bargain if he could. He was testing her to see how badly she wanted the ovary. “Do you think it’s safe for me to get up?”

  “Of course. It’s been a couple of hours.”

  Damn him. He knew she wanted to stay down as long as possible. “You get her shaved and prepped and ready first.”

  “No, you get her ready. I have to prepare a culture for the ovary.”

  Elizabeth got to her feet. After an embryo transfer in the ARC, the women went home after a fe
w hours. She would just have to take her chances like everyone else.

  She pushed through the double doors into the surgery area, seeing her sister for the first time since that day in the clinic. She was so pretty, even with the abrasion on her temple. Jenna was pale now. Her outdoor glow and robust look were gone. She would recover quickly, though, Elizabeth told herself.

  She unbuttoned Jenna’s nightgown to expose her torso. She stared at the paralyzed woman, so similar to herself. A long shiver rippled down her spine. Jenna had the same round high breasts, long torso, and wide hips. Did they have their mother’s body? Did they look like her?

  Elizabeth’s hands trembled as she shaved Jenna’s flat lower abdomen. It wasn’t fair. Her sister had two working ovaries, while her own insides were a mess of dysfunctional scar tissue. Jenna was a good person. She wouldn’t mind sharing. If the situation had been reversed, Elizabeth would have donated oocytes to Jenna. She was sure of it.

  She applied a topical disinfectant, stroking Jenna’s abdomen absentmindedly. Why had their mother abandoned them? Did she have any idea what she’d done? The selfish woman had caused all of this with her irresponsible behavior. How different their lives would have been if she’d kept them together. She and Jenna might have been sitting in a restaurant, having lunch, and talking about their children.

  Liar thief barren whore. Jenna’s voice joined the others in her head.

  Elizabeth jumped back from the table.

  “Ready to scrub in?” David was watching from across the room, an unreadable expression on his face.

  Elizabeth nodded and they moved together toward the sink. After a minute of ritual hand washing, David cleared his throat. “This clears my debt, Liz. All of it. Even the money.”

  “You feel differently about me now, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what I feel right now except stress. I want this woman out of my life as soon as possible.”

  “You’re attracted to her, aren’t you? I saw the way you looked at her.” Elizabeth was surprised by how much it bothered her. David had always had other lovers. Her sister was different.

  David picked up a pair of latex gloves and grinned. “She looks so much like you, how can I not be?”

  Liar thief whore. Jenna’s voice grew strong.

  Elizabeth bit back her anger as she too pulled on gloves. David was such a charmer. That’s why the checks poured into the church every month. Little old ladies who’d heard him speak once at a garden meeting would send him money forever. He would probably even weasel more money out of her in the future. Maybe not. Once she had a child, everything would be different. She would be different. She wouldn’t need David in the same way.

  They stood on either side of the operating table, and David verbally walked her through the procedure. Elizabeth felt nervous. This was different from sucking a few oocytes through a tiny incision. David was going to cut through muscle and tissue to remove an ovary. Elizabeth hadn’t done any cutting since her intern days. The scalpel glinted under the bright fluorescent lighting. David pressed it hard against Jenna’s pale flesh.

  As a thin line of blood began to show, Danielle burst through the double doors. “Reverend! There’s a stranger outside the church. He’s carrying a bat and sneaking around! I saw him from the tower.”

  Chapter 48

  4:20 p.m.

  Eric worked his way around to the side of the huge stone building. Going in through the front door did not seem like a good idea. He could hear children on the far side, laughing and shouting as if on a playground despite the chill in the air. Three women had come out through the double front doors while he hid behind a tractor and planned his approach. The women had chatted and carried Bibles as if on their way to church. This was a church, he reminded himself. He had no proof that his attacker or the elusive Dr. Carmichael—or Jenna for that matter—was even here. He could only hope.

  He moved along the outside of the building, staying as close to the wall as he could. Low-growing shrubs and thick patches of weeds created a natural barrier. Eric struggled through the brush, searching for an opening, even a small ventilation hole, but the wall was solid. His chest wound throbbed, and it hurt to breathe deeply. Eric moved along low to the ground, panting like a dog in hot weather. When the shrubs cleared in a small patch, he took the opportunity to lean against the stone to rest.

  The wall gave way and Eric stumbled through the opening, slamming into an interior wall, which was—fortunately—made of sheet rock instead of brick. It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the shadowy darkness of his surroundings before he noted a narrow slit of light from a spot a few feet away. The dim whiteness illuminated a row of pants, sweaters, and light-colored shirts hanging from an overhead rod.

  He was in a closet.

  He moved cautiously through the doorway, bat poised and ready. The room was narrow, like dorms at a university, with only a bed, nightstand, and large chest of drawers. Cautiously, Eric moved past the foot of the bed to the wooden door. It was locked.

  From the inside. All he had to do was turn the dead bolt. The next room was slightly larger, containing desks, file cabinets, and a computer setup complete with printer and modem. Eric wanted to snoop around, especially in the computer, but his sense of urgency had grown. The idea that Jenna was here and needed his help compelled him forward. The place was strangely quiet, the voices of women and children no longer present. A deep sense of dread weighted his legs, slowing him down. Ever so slowly, Eric edged the next door open and peered through a crack into what appeared to be the pulpit of a small, crude chapel.

  A middle-aged woman and a young girl sat in the second pew, heads bowed in prayer. Beyond them, the room was empty. Eric stepped into the foyer and lowered the bat to his side. He didn’t want to frighten the innocent, didn’t want their screams to alert the bastards who ran the place. The two became aware of him as he passed, but only stared, frightened and silent. Eric kept his own silence. He wished Jackson were with him. Jackson and his Sig Sauer.

  The chapel opened into a wide central room with a spiral staircase in the center. Eric realized it led to the watchtower he’d seen from the car. A group of women were gathered around the base of the stairs, talking excitedly. They were all different ages but dressed similarly in long skirts and sweaters. A silence fell over the cluster as he approached.

  “Who are you?” a thin, dark-haired woman asked, voice trembling.

  “Eric Troutman.” What else should he say? Would the truth put Jenna at risk?

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m looking for someone. A woman named Jenna. Is she here?”

  The whispered, excited conversation resumed in full force with many glances in his direction. Eric waited nervously, watching for Grafton or Carmichael.

  The dark-haired woman came forward and spoke in a whisper. “Are you her husband?”

  “No. Just a good friend.”

  “Why are you carrying the bat?”

  “Self-protection. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to get Jenna and leave.”

  “You should leave her in the church until she’s better. It’s the best place for her right now.”

  “Better?” Eric’s stomach flip-flopped. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has a drug–” The woman stopped and her eyes and mouth popped open in disbelief. Eric turned, hearing the voice and seeing the man at the same time.

  “Shut up, Rachel!” The man who’d stabbed him two nights earlier in his own kitchen was here now, holding a small gun, and looking extremely annoyed. The women’s chatter stopped.

  “Why do you have a gun, Zeke?” Rachel asked bravely.

  “I said, shut up!” He pointed the gun at Eric’s head. “Put the bat down and move slowly toward the back stairs.”

  Eric laid the bat on the floor, never taking his eyes off Grafton. The man was muscular but skinny and looked to be in his early fifties. Eric had at least forty pounds on him. Without the gun, he should have been able to t
ake him down easily. But this man had almost killed him before. Eric’s knees felt weak and his heart pounded against his chest wound. He stepped to the left, hands out from his sides.

  “Go about your business, all of you!” Grafton thundered. The women scattered like frightened squirrels. Only Rachel stood her ground. The ex-con ignored her, eyeballing Eric and waving the gun at a dark opening in the wall.

  Eric went where he was told, the stink of his own sweat permeating the narrow hallway. In front of him were descending stairs. What in God’s name was down there? Would Grafton shoot him in the back now that they were alone? Or would he find out what had become of Jenna before they killed him? His death seemed certain. The fact that he hadn’t already been killed seemed like a small miracle due to the presence of the church women.

  “Move.” The gun poked him in the back.

  Eric moved.

  At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretched out with a series of rooms off to the left. The first area was open and looked like an examining room in a medical clinic. Eric heard voices from deep inside, a man and a woman shouting at each other. The presence of a woman gave him hope. Maybe he would survive. Eric stopped. The woman sounded familiar. Grafton prodded him in the back with the gun. “In there.”

  Eric pushed through the double swinging doors into a large room lined with stainless steel counters and overhead fluorescent lights. It appeared to be a crowded medical lab. A wide swinging door to the right lead to another area from which Eric again heard shouting. He assumed that was where they were going. He moved slowly forward, scanning the counters for something that could be used as a weapon. Microscopes, glass tubes, a small refrigerator. Nothing sharp or handy.

  The gun still pressed against his back, Eric pushed through the single swinging door. The third area was bright, sparse, and clearly being used as an operating room. The man and woman, one on each side of a narrow table, stopped shouting and turned to stare. A white sheet covered what was obviously a patient lying between them.