Save Her Child by CJ Lyons (best historical biographies txt) 📗

fit in with them. But she also needed the type of person who would be able to function independently on the streets alongside the police. It was a tricky balance—as she’d seen herself during her early days working with Luka’s team—and required the right personality.

“I need to talk to them all,” she muttered as she clicked from one perfectly formatted résumé to the next. Words on a screen were meaningless; she needed to meet them to see if they had the right skill set, to tell how they might react in a crisis.

A knock on her door startled her. Luka poked his head inside, leaning on his crutches. “Your assistant wasn’t here yet, so—”

“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.” She closed down her computer and stood. “How’s the leg?”

“Hurts like a sonofabitch if I stop to think about it or if I move it or anything touches it or the wind blows the wrong way. Other than that, it’s fine.”

“Translation: noncompliant patient refuses to take his pain medication or follow doctor’s orders to rest.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Thought I was the one doing you a favor?”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” Leah led the way to the elevator and up to the OB floor. The Labor and Delivery area was buzzing with activity and the waiting room was overflowing with anxious family members.

“Her name’s Beth?” Luka asked as Leah used her keycard to get them through the secure doors separating the nursery and postpartum wing from the rest of the floor.

“That’s what she told me.” They passed the large, glass-walled nursery. Leah glanced inside—no sign of Beth’s baby under the warmers. Which meant he was stable enough to stay in Beth’s room, a good sign. The nurse covering the nursery seemed busy, so Leah decided she’d check the baby’s chart after they saw Beth.

They reached Beth’s room. The door was shut and a “Mother nursing” sign hung on the doorknob. Leah knocked softly, then when there was no answer, she rapped louder.

Luka shifted his weight nervously from one crutch to the other. “Maybe we should come back later,” he said, eyeing the sign with trepidation.

“You can face down men with guns, no problem, but a mom nursing her baby makes you nervous?”

He shrugged. “I don’t want to make her more anxious, is all. A strange man—”

“Let me check on her and we’ll see.” Leah edged the door open and peered inside. The lights were off, the room dark. “Beth? It’s Leah. I wanted to see how you—”

No answer. The room felt empty, and as her eyes adjusted, guided by the small red lights that marked the call buttons at the bedside, she realized that Beth wasn’t there. Leah snapped the lights on. The room was vacant, with no signs of Beth or her baby other than an IV bag, its tubing dangling on the floor, leaking into a puddle.

She rushed to the bathroom. Empty. Then back out to the hall where Luka waited. “They’re gone.”

“How? The hospital has a security system for newborns.”

She started toward the nurses’ station and he followed, his crutches thumping against the linoleum.

“Perhaps she’s taking a walk, stretching her legs.”

“I didn’t see her baby in the nursery.”

“How could you tell? They all look alike.”

They reached the nursery. Leah rapped on the glass and the nurse on duty looked up from her chart. Using her keycard, Leah opened the locked door. “Have you seen Beth Doe? Or her baby boy?”

The nurse frowned. “They’re in her room.”

“No. I was just there.”

“Hang on. She’s not mine and things are crazy around here today—worse than a full moon.” She checked the computer. “Yeah, Katie’s note says the baby’s temp was stable so she took him to mom’s room to nurse. Said they showed good bonding, baby latched on no trouble, and she left them after answering mom’s questions.” She glanced up at Leah. “That was over two hours ago.”

Luka stepped forward, swinging his jacket open to reveal his badge. “Can you check the baby’s location using its monitor bracelet?”

The nurse clicked a few more keystrokes then relaxed. “He’s right where he should be. Room 616.”

“We just came from there,” Leah told her. “They aren’t there.”

“They have to be,” the nurse protested. “You must have the wrong room.” She summoned a nursing assistant via the intercom. “Watch things for me, will you? I’ll only be gone a second.” Then she beckoned to Leah and Luka to follow her. She strode down the hallway until she reached Beth’s room. Leah and Luka joined her inside. “I don’t understand. The computer says both mom and baby are here. Right here.”

Luka pulled back the sheets from the bed. Nestled in the center of the mattress were two monitor bracelets. “Call security. Lock it down.” He glanced up at the nurse, whose mouth had dropped open. “Lock it down. Now.”

Twenty-Two

Harper didn’t understand why everybody hated it when Ford Tierney was assigned to do the postmortem on their cases. She liked the man. Yeah, he took forever, but he always gave you a straight answer once he’d taken the time to verify all his findings. And, while he never wanted to talk about the circumstances of a case—the science should speak for itself, he said—he never seemed to mind when she asked questions. Maybe because she never challenged him, instead merely sought to understand.

Still, Harper wished she was anywhere else but here, sitting in the small observation area elevated to give a bird’s-eye view of the gruesome proceedings as the assistant medical examiner conducted his examination of Spencer Standish’s body. She wanted to head to Lily’s rehab facility in person but instead she’d had to rely on a phone conversation. She’d been on hold for twenty minutes, so she hung up and tried again, hoping to get someone other than the snippy administrator she’d first spoken with, who’d seemed unhappy with Harper’s promise of a court order to follow, if she could just give Harper Lily’s next of kin information now. This time another