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

help. “You can pay me back by helping me find Beth and her baby. Didn’t you say we could review the security videos?”

“I did.” But he didn’t move. Instead, he leaned heavily on his crutches. “I know you said you were certain Beth wouldn’t hurt her baby, but when security reviewed the video, they didn’t see anyone leave with a baby. So, just in case, I have hospital security searching.”

“Searching? Of course we’re all searching—” Then it hit her. What he meant, what he really meant they were looking for. “No. Luka, no. I don’t believe it. You didn’t see her, the way she clung to her baby, like she would do anything to protect him. C’mon. Let’s go see the video from this morning; I’m sure there’s another explanation for why they didn’t see her and the baby leave. There has to be.”

Thirty-One

Luka and Leah headed down to the medical center’s security office. There they met Ramsey, the former Pittsburgh police detective who was head of Good Sam’s security.

“Any news?” Luka asked.

“No sign of the baby,” Ramsey answered. Beside him, Luka felt Leah’s posture relax with relief. “And we’ve searched the entire floor. But I’m glad you’re here. Once you sent that photo of the patient who absconded, I was able to track her, but only for a short while. Come, see for yourself.”

“I’d also like to see the visitor log for this morning,” Luka told him as he and Leah followed Ramsey into a darkened room. Even though Leah had found Beth alone at the fair, he had a hard time believing a woman who’d given birth the day before could make it out of the hospital with her newborn without anyone noticing. Unless she had help.

“After what happened in the spring, when Dr. Wright was attacked,” Ramsey said, nodding to Leah, “we implemented new visitor procedures. Everyone has to show a photo ID and sign in to get a pass.”

“Good,” Luka said absently as he scanned the log. He wished the hospital took security as seriously as they did patient privacy. How was it they could computerize medical records but still used an outdated video system? A familiar set of names snagged his attention. Tassi, her neighbor Larry Hansen, then several minutes later, Foster Dean, all with the destination of the coroner’s offices. Then he spotted another familiar name. “Reverend Harper was here this morning? But it doesn’t list his destination.”

“The reverend? He wouldn’t need to sign in, he has his own ID. He’s part of the pastoral service, visits anyone who has a need, patient or family. Sometimes even staff after a rough case. That log just indicates when he used his keycard to enter.”

“So he pretty much has the run of the place?” Luka asked.

“He’s a minister,” Ramsey said as if it explained everything.

“Your log shows when people arrive but not when they leave.”

“They’re meant to sign out but no one ever does.”

Leah leaned past him to examine the log herself. “He signed in at six-forty this morning, right before shift change. That’s an odd time, don’t you think?”

“Why?” Luka asked, glad he’d brought her with him. Her intimate knowledge of how the hospital worked was proving invaluable.

“No visitors are allowed during shift changes because the nurses are tied up giving report, so the wards are short-staffed.”

He nodded. “A lot like patrol officers and our watch changes.”

“Exactly. And the reverend would know that, yet he arrived right before the day shift arrived on duty.” She shrugged. “It’s possible someone called him in that early, perhaps a dying patient and their family, but it seems odd to me.”

Luka couldn’t help but think how odd Matthew Harper’s actions had been yesterday, at the Standish crime scene. He wondered if Harper had noticed anything strange about her father. He hated to get her personally involved, torn between her duties and her family, but if she had any insights—

“Here,” Ramsey said from his position at the keyboard. “This is what I wanted you to see.”

Leah had explained that the Labor and Delivery wing was divided into the labor area with mothers giving birth—including two operating rooms for C-sections—and the postpartum unit where the nursery was situated, along with the rooms for mothers who had given birth. Apparently staff went back and forth between them, but patients were sequestered in one at first, then moved to the other side.

“We don’t have a separate camera inside Labor and Delivery,” Ramsey continued. “Patient privacy issues. All we have is this one outside the main L and D wing.” He pressed a button and the footage filled one of the computer screens.

The camera outside the locked labor ward also showed the elevator lobby, so it was a busy area filled with hospital staff, families, volunteers, visitors, along with patients. Ramsey fast-forwarded, stopping whenever anyone exited L and D. So far there were half a dozen women leaving, all wearing scrubs, most with their hair in surgical caps, some with surgical masks hiding most of their face as well. No civilians except for two discharged couples, the mothers holding their babies and wheeled out by nurses, both with fathers, hands filled with flowers and balloons and car seats, trailing behind. Luka had to smile at the expression of shock and awe that filled the men’s faces.

Then Luka saw a familiar face. “Wait. Stop there.” It was Matthew Harper leaving L and D. Luka checked the timestamp—twenty minutes after the reverend had entered the hospital and right during the change of shift when there were fewer nurses on the ward. Matthew carried a bag similar to the large diaper bags the discharged patients had with them.

“Go back twenty minutes, then forward another twenty after he leaves,” Luka ordered, searching the faces of the women who had exited around the same time Matthew had. They all appeared to be staff members: scrubs, nursing shoes, ID badges.

“Stop!” Leah pointed. “That’s Beth. I’m sure of it.”

Ramsey froze on the film on the image of a woman in