I knew the Broward General Medical Center like the back of my hand. Jessie had been born there, and I’d spent an unplanned vacation in its IC unit after being stabbed in the leg by a suspect. Because of its proximity to busy downtown Fort Lauderdale, its maternity ward was a target for people looking to steal babies, and I’d spent many hours training the nursing staff and doctors on how to thwart abductions.
Like so many hospitals in south Florida, the parking lot was half the size it needed to be. I trolled the aisles until I spied someone leaving, then fought another car for the spot. My snarling dog convinced the competing driver to retreat, and I parked.
I leashed Buster and we headed across the baking macadam. Standing beneath a green canopy by the back entrance I spotted Burrell, talking on her cell. The expression on her face was best described as frozen dread. She folded the phone as I got close.
“Getting browbeaten by the mayor?” I asked.
“How did you guess?”
“You look ready to throw up.”
We went inside to the admissions area. The atmosphere was zoo-like, with a mob of ailing people besieging a pair of frantic receptionists. I didn’t see any reporters, and guessed that Burrell had decided to freeze out the media for the time being.
Burrell showed her badge, and we were allowed to pass. Our footsteps followed us down a long corridor to Obstetrics.
“Have you been able to maintain the crime scene?” I asked.
“Barely,” Burrell said.
Crimes in hospitals always posed problems for the police. If the crimes took place inside high-traffic areas like emergency rooms or maternity wards, it was impossible to keep staff and patients from trespassing on the crime scene.
“How about witnesses?” I asked.
“We’ve got a candy striper who thinks she saw the abductor, and the mother, who handed her child off to a woman posing as a nurse early this morning. The mother’s name is Lonna Wakefield. Her son’s named Martin.”
“What’s wrong with the boy?”
“He was born three weeks premature, and was put in the neonatal intensive care unit. This morning he was cleared to leave NICU, and brought to see his mother.”
“His mother’s still a patient in the hospital?”
“Yes. She had complications giving birth.”
“How’s the mother taking it?”
“Not well. She started screaming when she heard the news. The father was in the room, and he started punching the walls. We almost had to arrest him.”
“Have you ruled the parents out as suspects?”
We had reached the maternity ward, and I put my face inches from the thick glass and stared at the newborns lying in bassinets. Burrell slapped her hand on my shoulder, and I turned and looked into her tired face.
“How long did I work for you, Jack?” she asked sternly.
“Six years,” I replied.
“Did I learn anything in all that time?”
“You learned plenty.”
“Glad to hear it. Yes, I’ve ruled the parents out as suspects. They didn’t sell their baby or decide to get rid of him. They’re innocent young kids. Now, let’s get this show on the road.”
Burrell started walking toward a room down from the ward. I gave the newborns a final glance, and saw a tiny guy in the front raise his clenched hand like he was saluting me. I couldn’t help myself, and waved back.
Lonna Wakefield and her husband were having a good cry when we entered the room. Lonna was sitting up in bed, a petite, fair-skinned young woman with wide, childlike eyes, while hubby sat beside her, a husky, corn-fed guy with a face as round as a barn owl. The wall beside the bed looked bruised.
Burrell introduced me to the couple. They both looked at me suspiciously, then did the same to my dog. Burrell picked up on their apprehension.
“Jack is an expert at finding abducted children,” she explained. “He’s offered to help us find your son.”
The husband frowned. “No offense, Detective, but we don’t have money to pay for this guy.”
“Jack won’t charge you,” Burrell said.
The couple’s faces lit up. I made Buster lie down, then crouched beside the bed so I was looking into Lonna’s face. Burrell was an excellent judge of character, but I still had to be sure that the Wakefields weren’t trying to pull the wool over our eyes. More than one sobbing couple had been responsible for selling their kid to pay off a debt, and I had to be certain these two were being honest.
“I’d like to ask you some questions about the woman who took your son,” I said. “Take your time with your answers. The more you can remember, the easier it will be for me to find your baby.”
Lonna rested her hand on her husband’s wrist. “I’ll do whatever you want, mister.”
“Let’s start from the beginning. How many days have you been here?”
“Three,” Lonna said. “I started having my contractions early, and Jimmie rushed me to the hospital on Tuesday night.”
“Detective Burrell told me that a woman came into your room this morning, and you gave her your son,” I said. “Why did you do that?”
Lonna winced, and I thought her husband was going to come out of his chair.
“She didn’t do it on purpose,” Jimmie Wakefield said angrily.
I ignored him, and continued staring into his wife’s eyes.
“I thought she was a nurse,” Lonna replied softly.
“Was she wearing a nurse’s uniform?” I asked.
Lonna’s eyes flickered as she brought up the memory. “Yeah, but she wasn’t wearing a nurse’s badge around her neck. I should have noticed that.”
“You had other things on your mind. Had you seen this woman before?”
“I saw her hanging around the maternity ward. I really didn’t notice her, not right away. There are so many people, between the doctors and nurses and volunteers and visitors. There was even a newborn class one day. She sort of blended in.”
“Had she visited your room before?”
“Yes. She popped in after Martin was born to see how I was doing.”
“Can you describe her?”
Lonna closed her eyes. “She was about thirty-five, Italian, maybe five-six or five-seven, kinda plump, wore her hair tied back in a bun, pleasant face.”
“Was she nice to you?”
She opened her eyes. They had welled up with tears, and Jimmie grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. “She was sweet,” Lonna said. “She reminded me of my mom.”
“Which was why you felt comfortable handing her your son.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to at first.”
“Then why did you?”
“My baby was coughing, and needed to get his medicine. She offered to take him. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Lonna had just described the classic abductor of newborns: a pleasant woman impersonating a hospital employee who ingratiates herself with a mother in order to get her hands on the mother’s newborn child. I decided that the Wakefields hadn’t done anything wrong, and rose from my crouching position. Both parents relaxed.
“Is there anything else you remember about this woman?” I asked.
“She called herself Tessa,” Lonna said. “She really fussed over Martin.”
I found myself nodding, and went to the door. Then I had a thought, and turned back to face the couple. “Did Tessa know the name of the medications Martin was being given?”
“Yes,” Lonna said. “She asked me what they were called, and wrote it down. She said she wanted to be sure the doctor was giving Martin the right drugs.”
“What were their names?”
“Albuterol and theophylline.”
I borrowed a pen and slip of paper from Burrell, made Lonna spell the drugs for me, and wrote them down.
“Is that important?” Lonna asked.
I didn’t like to tell grieving parents any more than I had to during an investigation, only Lonna and Jimmie Wakefield were sick with worry, and deserved to hear even the tiniest bit of good news. I said, “This is going to sound strange, but that’s the best thing you could have told me. Tessa loves your baby. That’s why she stole him, and that’s why I should have no trouble tracking her down.”