But her daughter wasn't in one of the I ittle beds.
She tried to bite back a cry of anguish.
It came out as a muffled sob.
Steve was instantly at her side, taking her elbow.
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
"No!"
He turned her toward him, wrapping his arms protectively around her
quivering body.
She felt him trembling, too.
For a moment neither of them moved away from the crib.
Then he bent and spoke very gently against her hair.
"I don't mean out of the hospital.
Just down the hall.
"Okay."
Abby let him steer her from the nursery.
People still milled around the nurses' station, but they all swung in
their direction as Abby and Steve came slowly down the hall.
Abby turned her head away, hoping that no one was going to rush up and
tell her how sorry they were.
If they did, she would come undone.
Her eyes focused on the diaper bag still lying on the floor near the
wall where Steve had dropped it.
Tightening his hold on her arm, he quickly ushered her into the waiting
room.
Moments later Mrs. Daly joined them.
:,You called the police?
" Steve asked.
'Yes.
"While we're waiting for them, tell me how someone could come into the
nursery and take a baby."
"Mr. Claiborne, our security is very strict. Every visitor to the
floor passes through a security check, and we have sign-in sheets for
every one of our paid employees and volunteers."
A staff physician, Dr. Scott, came in.
"I've just heard about what happened, and I know the two of you are
upset " You're damn right," Steve grated.
Abby glanced at her husband's rigid face, knowing he was as close to
the edge as she was herself.
But he was handling it differently-by channeling his fear into anger
toward the hospital staff.
The physician continued to talk to Steve, but Abby wasn't listening to
the conversation.
She was trying to keep her own terror under control as she thought
about Shannon.
Oh, God, her daughter was still so tiny.
Was she frightened?
Who had her?
Did they know she'd been born prematurely, that she still needed
special care?
Did they even know how to support her head when they picked her up?
"Why did you take my baby?" she whispered.
"Do you have any idea who that might be?" a new voice questioned.
Everyone in the room turned to face the compact, muscular man who had
asked the question.
"Will Angel, Detective, Baltimore Police Department."
He flipped open his wallet, displaying a badge.
"Thank God," Abby breathed.
Finally someone was going to do something.
"You've got to find Shannon."
" You're Mrs. Claiborne?
"Yes. I mean, I-I use-. . my maiden name, Dr. Franklin.
" She closed her eyes, trying to remember the first question he'd
asked." No, I-I .
don't know who could do something like this.
" Her voice broke on the last words, and she clamped her-mouth shut.
Steve came down beside her, kneeling on the floor as he gripped her
hand.
"You're Mr. Claiborne?"
Angel asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you have any idea who might have taken your child from the
hospital?"
Abby felt Steve's body stiffen, and her head swung questioningly toward
But he only shrugged.
The detective turned to Mrs. Daly.
"You're in charge of this ward?"
"Yes."
Has anyone suspicious been hanging around the nursery?
@2
She repeated the security information she'd given Abby and Steve.
"Do you have a picture of the baby?"
Angel asked Abby.
"Yes. I've been taking them all along."
Looking around for her pocketbook, she was astonished to find the strap
still slung over her arm.
Fumbling inside, she drew out the packet of photographs she'd been
showing off.
There was even one a nurse had taken of her, Steve, and Shannon
together on one of his rare visits to the hospital.
"Pick the one that looks most like her, and we'll get it out right away
with our missing person's bulletin."
As Abby began to shuffle through the snapshots, her vision blurred.
In one picture, Shannon was reaching out a hand toward her from the
isolette.
"You do it," Abby whispered to Steve.
A regretful look flashed across his face, and he shook his head.
"You know her better than I do."
Abby struggled to complete the task.
"These three are the best, " she finally said to Angel.
Swallowing hard, she tucked the packet back into her purse.
' 'We can get her description and vital statistics from the nursing
staff.
1.
The detective and Mrs. Daly left the room.
Steve got up, paced to the window and turned back toward Abby.
She thought he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth
again.
Abby drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees.
Her breasts hurt where they pressed against her thighs, but she didn't
change position.
She needed to hold herself together, needed to hold the contents of her
stomach inside her body.
Steve stood staring out the window as if he were hoping someone would
come back across the parking lot with Shannon wrapped securely in a
receiving blanket.
But that wasn't very likely.
"What if someone's holding her for ransom?"
Abby asked.
At the sound of her voice, he whirled toward her.
"Because they know both the Franklins and the Claihomes are wealthy?"
"Yes."
"I wasn't thinking about anything like that."
Strangely, Steve sounded almost relieved as he started toward the
door.
"Where are you going?"
"To talk to Angel. Somebody ought to be stationed at our house in case
there's a call or a note."
"Wait! ' @ He turned back toward Abby.
"Not the police," she said.
"Kidnappers might not want the authorities involved.. -See if Jo will
do it. And ask her not to talk to anyone."
Steve knelt beside her again.
"Are you going to be okay if I leave?"
"No. I'm not going to be any better until we get her back."
"Abby, I know how you-" He stopped.
"No. I guess I don't know how you feel. But I'm frightened.
And angry.
" He stopped again.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
"I understand."
"I'll go call Jo."
When the door closed behind Steve, Abby felt alone and defenseless.
Would anyone hear her if she started to scream or pound the wall?
Instead she gripped her legs more tightly.
"Just don't hurt her," she whispered.
"Don't hurt my baby, and I'll pay you anything you want. Just give her
back to me."
Yet it might not be that simple.
It might not be a matter
of money at all.
Her breath grew shallow as she thought over various cases described in
psychology journals and the newspapers.
Babies were sometimes stolen by lonely women who wanted someone to
love.
Women who didn't have or couldn't bear their own children .
Abby's heart skipped a beat.
Shannon had been here for six weeks.
What if she'd been stolen by someone who'd come to love her while they
took care of her?
Leaping off the sofa, she dashed into the hall.
Angel was conferring with the woman from the administrative offices and
Dr. Scott, who looked as if he'd rather be in the middle of a heart
and lung transplant operation.
The detective glanced in her direction, and she caught an expression on
his face that she didn't like.
He was thinking of her as the hysterical mother, someone who would only
get in the way of the investigation .
She couldn't let him see how broken up she was inside.
"Do you have the records of everyone who's been working in the nursery
over the past six weeks?" she asked the administrative staffer in a
voice that sounded surprisingly steady to her own ears.
"They're on the way up."
While they waited, Angel explained that Shannon's photograph and
description were already being circulated around the city.
There wasn't anything more concrete he could tell her, so he went off
to find out which employees and volunteers had been on duty that
afternoon.
Bone-tired and dispirited, Abby dropped onto the couch and glanced down
the hall.
Where was Steve?
Couldn't he reach Jo?
Was he trying to get another one of their friends to go out to the
house?
She was sitting with her eyes closed when the sound of her name made
her jump.
"Sorry."
It was Mrs. Daly.
"Do you have the files?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Daly, Angel, and Abby repaired to the conference room at the end
of the corridor.
"It's less likely to be a long-time employee, so separate the files
into two stacks," the detective instructed Mrs. Daly.
"Those who have been with the hospital for several years, and those who
joined the s I tall shortly before or right after Dr. Franklin's baby
arrived in the nursery."
Abby watched tensely as the woman went through the pile.
She didn't even see -the uniformed officer standing in the doorway
until he started to speak.
"We've questioned the two volunteers who were supposed to be on duty.
Mrs. Lewis went straight from the hospital to choir practice.
Her-husband picked her up. The other lady, Mrs. Brandford, wasn't
here today."
" But we have her signature," Angel retorted, shuffling through the
stack of cards in front of him and holding one up." It's right here.
"She said she got a call not to come in, so she went to visit her
daughter in Arbutus. Arrived there at 10:00 a.m. They went to lunch
and shopping at Security Mall."
Mrs. Daly reached for the card.
"That's her name.
She signed in at 2:15 p.
m.
But I don't recall seeing her on the floor.
We were shorthanded, so I was glad when I spotted Mrs. Hamadi.
" She looked perplexed.
"Come to think of it, I only caught a quick glance at her from the
back-a woman in long, baggy pants with a scarf over her head."
She looked at Abby for confirmation.
"That's the way she dresses, isn't it?"
"Yes. She always has her hair covered. And she wears those big
culottes."
"Did you see her leave?" the detective interjected.
"I'm not sure how long she was here. As I said, I only had a glimpse
of her back. She was walking toward the stairs."
"The stairs. Not the elevator?"
Angel clarified.
"The elevators are right across from the nursing station. She was
heading down the hall."
Abby felt a shiver go through her body.
Mrs. Hamadi.
A sad, lonely woman who'd home and lost three premature infants.
A woman who'd taken a special interest in Shannon.
A woman who'd confided her sorrow to Abby and then avoided her.
"How long has she worked here?"
Angel asked.
"She's our newest volunteer."
Mrs. Daly shuffled through the folders and opened one.
"She completed the training program on August 14 and did her first
shift on August 15."
"Ten days after Shannon was born! " Abby breathed.
"STEVE! Where were you?"
"Jo was out on a case. I got Erin Morgan."
He peered anxiously into Abby's face.
"Did something happen?"
"There's this woman, a volunteer in the nursery.
Mrs. Hamadi.
" Abby began to pour out the story.
"One night in the hospital we got to talking. I told her how worried I
was, and she told me about losing her own premature babies. Then she
started avoiding me.
She kept looking at Shannon as if she wanted her.
But I didn't think.
"Of course not."
"The police are on their way to her apartment now."
Steve sat down beside Abby, and she slid close to him, laying her head
on his shoulder.
"Oh, God, let her be there," she whispered.
Steve squeezed her fingers' Neither of them spoke.
This is what a waiting room in hell is like, Abby thought.
The seconds dragged by.
Finally, footsteps echoed in the hall, and moments later Angel appeared
in the doorway.
When Abby saw the stark expression on the detective's face, she felt
her body go cold.
"What's happened? What's happened to Shannon?"
"I'm sorry, but we still don't know. The address Mrs. Hamadi gave on
her volunteer application was faked. No one there has heard of her."
Abby started to bury her face in her hands but stopped herself.
"I know you're disappointed," Angel said.
"But there are other ways to trace the @om' an."
"Disappointed" hardly described her feeling.
"Devastated" came closer.
One of the uniformed officers came into the room and handed Angel a
sheet of paper, which the detective scanned quickly.
When he looked up, his expression was grimmer than before.
"The woman's folder disappeared from the training department-if it ever
existed."
Abby nodded numbly.
"Do you think you could help a police artist produce a sketch of
her?"
"Yes."
She sat up straighter, grateful for the chance to do something.
"Her face was unusual, and I'll never forget her eyes."
"Good. I'll get someone down here within twenty minutes."
As Angel turned to leave the room, she called him back.
Wait!
It's almost five.
The evening news is on in an hour.