‘We had a few questions about Eliza Stern, her pregnancy and the birth,’ said Blade. ‘How was it possible that Ms. Stern, on a feeding tube and presumably not eating the way a prospective mother should eat, could deliver a healthy baby?’
Angela took a few seconds before she answered the detective. ‘Think of Eliza as kind of an incubator. A baby doesn’t need much to grow. Calm and quiet and a steady flow of calories and liquids is all it takes. Eliza provided all that.’
‘But, she was getting a minimum amount of nutrition and you said earlier that the baby looked cherubic,’ said Blade.
‘Sustaining a pregnancy doesn’t take much if the womb is intact,’ said Angela. ‘There are women who deliver healthy babies in war zones. Starving refugees have healthy babies while in overcrowded camps. Eliza was fed regularly through a feeding tube and got sufficient calories, vitamins and nutrients that were enough to sustain a growing fetus. Patients who don’t move, like Eliza, have almost no caloric expenditure. Most of her food went to the baby.’
‘Not a single person on staff noticed anything?’ asked Blade. ‘I know we discussed this earlier, but that’s the piece that keeps rattling around in my head that doesn’t compute.’
‘I know to the lay person, it sounds inconceivable,’ said Angela, ‘but remember, no one was looking for or anticipating a pregnancy. That notion was so far out of the realm of possibilities that I guess it just didn’t occur to anyone. Our staff sees Eliza several times a day. No one was looking for that.’
‘But the woman was close to nine months pregnant,’ said Blade, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Detective, our staff doesn’t check for cataracts or tennis elbow either,’ said Angela, getting annoyed. ‘One of our patients may very well have cataracts and may be completely blind but it really doesn’t matter when one is in a vegetative state so we don’t check for it. A pregnancy fell into that same bucket.’
‘I suppose that makes sense,’ said Blade, clearly not convinced.
‘She also carried extremely small. It can happen,’ said Angela. ‘I’ve had patients over the years who were in their seventh or eighth month and didn’t know they were having a baby. They just thought they had gained a little weight.’
McQuillan had not said a word throughout the discussion. Normally, he would take the lead when he and Blade tag-teamed, but this was a subject where he felt out of his depth and he left it to his capable female partner.
‘Let me ask you something else,’ said Blade, scratching her head. ‘How is it possible for a woman in a coma to vaginally deliver a baby? If her brain isn’t working, how does that happen?’
‘Detective, the human body is a miraculous instrument,’ said Angela, getting excited. ‘In a persistent vegetative state, like Eliza is in, your organs still work, and your fertility is functioning. While her brain is asleep, the rest of her body knows exactly what to do. That’s why she’s still breathing, circulating blood, excreting waste. Everything else is working. If a patient is unconscious and unable to push, delivery can be difficult. We would have to rely on medication to strengthen the contractions—oxytocin would be administered. That would bring on contractions strong enough to move the baby out through the birth canal. But, in this case, we didn’t have to do that. Her body expelled the baby on its own.
‘The nurses only realized what was happening after Eliza was well into her labor. She was already ten centimeters dilated when I got to her and we didn’t know how long she had been at that stage. I got there just in time after they called me. The baby started crowning within minutes of my arrival in her room.’
‘Good thing you were in the building,’ said McQ.
‘I’m glad I was,’ said Angela.
It had barely been forty-eight hours since Eliza Stern had delivered her baby boy but to Angela it felt like years. Later that evening, on her way home that second surreal day, she stopped at a strip mall to pick up some food for dinner. It was late and she was tired when she stopped at the cash machine at a nearby Chase branch. When she checked her balance, their joint checking and savings account was down to one hundred and seventy-five dollars.
There should be at least three thousand dollars in this account. What happened to all of our money? The branch was closed so she called her husband but it went straight to voicemail. Wondering if their bank account had been compromised, she drove home as fast as she could, telling herself there was a logical explanation for the missing money. David probably paid a bill that he forgot to tell me about.
Out of habit, she grabbed the mail out of the mailbox hanging on the gray clapboard next to her front door as she entered her house. Her husband was waiting in the kitchen with cheese and crackers and an open bottle of red wine.
‘I know you’ve been having a rough time at work so I cooked a nice dinner for you,’ he said, smiling and reaching for her.
He always does this. It’s like he has a sixth sense whenever the anvil is about to drop on his head.
‘We won’t have any hospital talk tonight,’ said David, smiling. ‘We’ll just have a nice dinner and you can take your mind off everything.’
Angela glared at her husband. ‘I stopped by the bank on my way home,’ she said as David cut a piece of cheese and tried to give it to her.
‘I don’t want it,’ she said, pushing his hand away. ‘I went to get some cash. There’s less than two hundred dollars left in our bank account. Where’s all of our money?’
‘Oh that, I’m just juggling around a few accounts to cover our bills, love. It should all gel out in a couple of days.’
‘We can’t keep doing this, David. Our credit rating is terrible. You’ve got to stop.’
‘I promise, I’m getting us back on track,’ he said, holding up a folder. ‘I’ve got a system.’
Angela shook her head as she absentmindedly opened a few of the bills that were in her hand. ‘How are we going to pay our bills this month? You want to tell me that? What did you do with the money?’
‘Don’t get yourself worked up about this, love, I’ll take care of everything. I always do.’
Furious, she opened a statement from Florida Sun Pass. It showed the tolls for the past month. There were a half dozen trips to Hialeah, Hollywood and Coconut Creek. All locations that had casinos and dog tracks.
‘I’m trying to keep a roof over our heads and you’re screwing with me every step of the way,’ Angela said, her voice getting louder. ‘Just when I think we’re starting to make headway, I go to the bank and our account is empty. Do I need to take your bank card away like a child?’
David hung his head and his eyes filled with tears.
‘We can’t keep going on like this, David,’ said Angela. ‘It’s got to stop!’
‘It’s just that I get so frustrated when I can’t write,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, I sit here and I feel like slamming my head into the wall. Going to the casinos or the tracks helps me take the edge off. I thought if I did this one race that I’d be able to make enough to pay back what I lost.’ A single teardrop ran down his cheek into his salt and pepper beard. ‘I got a tip. It was supposed to be a sure thing. I’m sorry, Angie. I’m so sorry.’
In almost every way, Angela Crawford was a force to be reckoned with, but her Achilles heel was her husband. Her soft spot for David ran long and deep and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay mad at him. She still saw that handsome, dashing young author she had fallen in love with so many years before.
‘It will be all right, babe, don’t cry,’ Angela said, putting her arms around her husband. ‘We’ll be okay. I get paid in two days.’
‘I’m sorry, Angie. Forgive me?’
‘Promise me, no more. I mean it.’
‘I swear. Scout’s honor.’
‘You were never a Scout.’
14
Day 3
On the third morning after the birth, Jenny O’Hearn and Lourdes Castro were summoned by the police to the temporary police conference rooms at Oceansi
de Manor. Blade took Lourdes into one room while McQ took Jenny into the other. Both nurses were asked if they had any idea what happened or saw anything unusual going on in the hospital prior to the birth of the baby. Neither had anything material to offer.
‘Why did you call Dr. Crawford to assist you? Was there no other doctor available?’ Blade asked Lourdes.
‘That’s a no-brainer. I knew Dr. Crawford was a trained OB-GYN and that she always worked late,’ said Lourdes. ‘She doesn’t practice medicine anymore but when she did, she was really good, had a great reputation.’
‘That’s a lot of years of study to give it up. Why doesn’t she do that anymore?’
‘Delivering babies takes its toll,’ said Lourdes. ‘Who wouldn’t get tired of getting up in the middle of the night, not getting enough sleep, and always being on call? She once told me the hours were affecting her health. I think she stopped practicing about twelve years ago and got her degree in hospital administration. I’ll tell you one thing, she’s a damn good administrator because she understands the needs of the patients and the medical staff.’
‘A sign in the lobby says Oceanside Manor’s chief administrator is a Dr. Frank Farwell. Who is he?’ asked Blade. ‘And, where is he now?’
‘Dr. Farwell went to Ecuador for about a year. Dr. Crawford is just the acting administrator while Dr. Farwell is on his sabbatical. He’s supposed to be back in a few months,’ said Lourdes.
In the other conference room, McQ was having a similar conversation with Jenny O’Hearn.
‘Tell me how it all started,’ said McQ.
‘When Nurse Castro and I realized that Eliza was in labor, there wasn’t time for anything. I’m not an obstetrical nurse but I know when a baby is about to be born. We both knew Dr. Crawford was probably in the building because she always works late so we called her and she came running within minutes.’
‘Did the delivery go smoothly?’
‘I haven’t really been to any deliveries before,’ said Jenny. ‘I take care of people with brain injuries, but there didn’t appear to be any complications. Dr. Crawford knew what she was doing.’
‘As far as you could tell with your trained medical eye, the baby and mother were not in any distress?’ asked McQ.
‘I didn’t say that,’ said Jenny. ‘Eliza was sort of twitching and she made some low moans. I remember asking Dr. Crawford if we should give her something for the pain but she didn’t want to. She said she didn’t know what she was dealing with and given all the other drugs Eliza was on, she didn’t want to add anything. I think she was afraid it might hurt the baby. In retrospect, I think that was the right call.’
Back in the other room, Blade was nearly finished with Lourdes.
‘Just a few more questions. Who else had access to Eliza Stern?’ asked Blade.
‘Not too many people work on our wing,’ said Lourdes. ‘The patients there don’t require much nursing. Mainly checking delivery devices, making sure tubes aren’t clogged, changing beds, that kind of thing.’
‘In terms of staff, who’s assigned to that floor?’ asked Blade.
‘There are eight rotating floor nurses on twelve-hour shifts and one head nurse during the week, that’s me, and another one on the weekends. Ten nurses in total.’
‘There’s always at least one nurse on 3 West at all times, is that correct?’
The head nurse stared at the detective and pursed her lips.
‘Yes. Unless…’ said Lourdes.
Unless?’
‘Unless a lot of people call in sick and we’re short-handed. When that happens,’ said Lourdes, ‘I double or triple up my team so that I have one nurse covering two or three floors at a time.’
‘How often does that occur?’
‘Look, it’s not supposed to happen, ever. You do what you gotta do,’ said Lourdes. ‘Sometimes I get one, two, three nurses all with the flu at the same time and somebody quits or has a death in the family and I have no coverage. What am I supposed to do? People get sick. People die. I have to make it work.’
‘Dr. Crawford said her best guess as to when Eliza Stern conceived was most likely last year between April and June,’ said Blade. ‘During those months were there any times where you had people out sick and your nurses were covering more than one floor?’
‘Probably,’ said an exasperated Lourdes, throwing up her hands. ‘I’d have to check my old work schedules but people calling out sick happens every other week.’
‘What about the aides? Are they always around?’
‘During the day the aides are there, but at night it’s only a night nurse.’
‘Who might be on several different floors?’ asked Blade.
‘If they’re covering for sick colleagues, yeah.’
‘So, there could have been days where no one was within earshot of Eliza for hours?’
‘I wouldn’t put it that way,’ said Lourdes.
In the other conference room, McQ continued to grill Jenny.
‘If there are a lot of staff out sick, how long could 3 West go uncovered?’ asked McQ.
‘It’s not exactly uncovered,’ said Jenny defensively. ‘It’s only when we’re short-staffed, which kind of happens a lot. But there’s someone on a floor below or above. I’ve worked that shift plenty of times. I spend about half an hour on each floor before I go to the next. Nothing bad has ever happened.’
‘On the overnight shift, do you go room to room?’
‘No. I usually go to the central nurses’ station on the floor where I can watch a monitor of patient vitals in every room. To be honest, it’s pretty quiet at night. I usually watch Netflix,’ said Jenny.
‘If someone’s covering three floors and they’re up on 5 West. How long might it be before they’re back on 3 West again?’ McQ asked Jenny.
‘It varies.’
‘Give me a range.’
‘I guess it could be as short as an hour and as long as three or four hours,’ said Jenny.
‘When people are out, there might be no personnel on 3 West for as long as four hours?’ asked McQ.
‘Yes, sometimes five,’ said Jenny.
Blade had only a few more questions as McQ entered the interrogation room and took a seat.
‘Nurse Castro,’ said Blade, ‘how many of your nurses and nurses’ aides are men?’
‘I knew that’s what you were thinking and you’re completely wrong,’ said Lourdes. ‘I know each one of them really well. Those guys have been with me for over five years. Neither of them would do something like that.’
‘I’m going to need their names, please,’ said Blade.
‘They’re both married. They’ve got kids. They didn’t have anything to do with this,’ replied Lourdes.
‘Names, please.’
For Head Nurse Castro, this line of questioning didn’t sit well. She loved every member of her team like they were her own family. She was the mother hen and they were her chicks. Both of the male nurses and their families celebrated Christmas with Lourdes’ family and she was even a godmother to one of their kids. Giving up their names felt like she was giving up one of her own children.
‘I realize this is uncomfortable for you,’ said McQ gently. ‘If they’re the good guys you think they are, it will all be over quickly and we’ll move on. You need to let us do our job.’
‘Willie Maguire and Jorge Santiago,’ she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.
Later that day, the detectives continued their investigation in their temporary conference rooms at Oceanside Manor. Two uniformed police officers were stationed out in the hallway outside the rooms prepping nervous people, answering questions and keeping general order.
‘What’s this all about? I don’t know nothing about nothing,’ said one tall, older man who worked in maintenance. ‘I fix furnaces and broken chairs. That’s it. I gotta get back to work.’
‘Sir, the detectives are interviewing everyone who works at Oceanside Manor,’ said the police officer. ‘You’ve got n
othing to worry about. Just routine questions. Your supervisors have been informed and know you are here.’
In order to keep a lid on what had happened and not raise suspicion or stoke rumors, the detectives elected to talk to everyone, not just the men. They also figured there might be a woman who witnessed something unusual.
A young policeman stepped out of the conference room and into the hall. ‘Reginald Smith?’ he called out to the crowd.
An aide, a young black man wearing blue scrubs raised his hand and was directed to the larger conference room. When he entered, McQ and Blade exchanged a look. Reginald Smith wasn’t their guy. The father of Eliza’s baby was definitely white. Still, they asked the aide a few questions, made him sign a statement and sent him on his way.
15
Tommy Devlin wasn’t the fastest rising star on The Oceanside Bulletin editorial staff, but he was the most tenacious. Once he bit, he sunk his teeth in so deep, you needed a surgeon to get him off you. It took him a while to warm up to a story but when he did, if he thought it would put him in the limelight, he was all in. Tommy Devlin had one overarching goal in life—he wanted to be famous. If you stood between him and the story that could get him there, he’d steamroll over you without thinking twice. When he smelled a juicy headline, he was a heat seeking-missile—single-focused and intrepid.
Single, thirty-six and handsome in a calculated, smarmy sort of way, Tommy had been pounding the pavement for the Bulletin for nearly seven years. When he joined the editorial team, he considered them a third-rate news organization. He planned to use his position at the Bulletin to springboard himself into a bigger playing field. He wanted to write for a newspaper like the New York Times or a national magazine like Forbes. He thought himself good-looking enough for prime time and his ultimate goal—a regular spot on cable news and maybe even his own show one day on CNN. Unfortunately for Tommy, he had a knack for rubbing people up the wrong way and opportunities that presented themselves usually soured after he pissed somebody off. The fact that he wasn’t able to leapfrog out of the Bulletin like he had planned became a source of great frustration for him. He believed he was destined for and deserved to be in the big leagues.
Without Her Consent Page 6
