The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [65]
“I can find your sick baby,” I said.
“You can?”
“Yes. I handled three sick baby abductions when I ran Missing Persons. The abductors were identical. I’m willing to bet yours is as well.”
“You think so? Describe the abductor.”
“Your abductor is female, between the ages of twenty and forty-five, overweight, and was posing in the maternity ward as a nurse.”
Burrell gasped. “Jesus Christ. You just described our prime suspect.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Stop being a jerk. Is she violent?”
“No, but she is delusional. This is not your normal child abduction.”
“How do you know that, Jack? How can you be so certain?”
“Because the baby was sick,” I said.
“Is that the clincher?”
“Yes. It tells you everything you need to know. I’ll help you find the baby, but I want something in return.”
“Name it.”
“Sally Haskell’s guy pulled through. The drug enforcers who are holding Sampson Grimes are keeping him in an Armwood Guest Suite Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. The hotel is old and run-down, and probably isn’t being used as a hotel anymore. If you’ll assign the detectives from Missing Persons to track down all the Armwood hotels, I’ll find this kid.”
I heard Burrell breathing heavily into the phone.
“Why do I feel like I’m being blackmailed?” she asked.
“Because you are,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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