The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [68]
Buster had found something smelly in the grass and was rolling in it. I clicked my fingers to no avail, then answered her. “You need to contact all the local pharmacies and hospitals, and ask them to be on the lookout for any woman who’s registered a home birth. They also need to be looking for any prescriptions for albuterol and theophylline. Tessa may have stolen a doctor’s script, and written out a prescription for Martin’s medicine.”
“You think she’s going to claim Martin as her own?”
“Yes. Tessa is starting a family.”
“This woman isn’t your normal criminal, is she?”
“She’s probably never broken a law in her life. But apprehending her is still going to be tricky.”
“Is she dangerous?”
“Yes.”
Burrell’s cell phone was ringing. She yanked it out, and made a face. I didn’t have to ask her who it was. She said, “Save that thought. There’s a Village Inn up the road. I’ll meet you there when I’m done with this call, and you can explain this to me.”
“Tell the mayor I said hello,” I said.
“I’ll do that.”
I pulled Buster out of the grass. He’d rolled in something dead, and I dragged him to my car.
I got a towel out of the trunk and cleaned Buster’s fur. Dogs rolled in bad smells to cover their own scent and keep their enemies guessing. Right now, I was guessing that Buster needed a bath.
As I put Buster into the car, I saw Jimmie Wakefield coming across the parking lot. He was a huge guy, and his puffed-up chest and face made him look even bigger. He halted a few feet from where I stood, and pointed a finger in my face.
“Why did you say that to Lonna?” he demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“You said you’d have no trouble finding our son. That’s bullshit. You don’t know who this nurse was, or what she’s going to do with him. You filled my wife with false hope, you crummy son-of-a-bitch.”
It was common for parents of abducted children to fly into rages, and siphon their anger against the very people who were trying to help them. It was part of coping, and something I’d experienced many times.
“You need to calm down,” I said.
Jimmie cocked his fist. “What I need to do is punch your lights out.”
He looked strong enough to kill me. I didn’t want to pull my gun and risk shooting him. He was a victim, and needed to be treated that way. I stepped toward him with my arms still at my sides. “What I told you and your wife was true. I will find your baby.”
“How can you know that?” he bellowed. “That nurse might have driven Martin down to the Miami airport, and sold him to some couple that’s already halfway around the world. I’ve seen those shows on TV—people steal kids and sell them all the time. It’s a big business. How can you stand there and tell me that didn’t happen to my son?”
Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his whole body was shaking. I decided to tell him the truth. It was going to hurt, but I had to tell him anyway.
“People don’t buy sick babies,” I said.
Jimmie blinked, then blinked again. He lowered his fist.
“They don’t?” he replied.
“There’s no market for them.”
“There isn’t?”
“None whatsoever. People who traffic in children look for strong, healthy babies to steal. That’s their main criterion. Your son is sick and needs attention and medicine for his lungs. That rules him out.”
“If people don’t steal sick babies, then why did the nurse steal Martin?”
“We won’t know for certain until we track her down. But I can give you my best guess. The woman who stole your son wants a baby of her own, but is incapable of having one. That was her motivation. She bought a nurse’s uniform, and started visiting maternity wards at different hospitals to become familiar with the procedures. She’s been planning this for a long time.”
“But Martin’s sick.”
“That’s right. And because he’s sick, he had to be moved around the floor to get his medicine. That meant different nurses got to put their hands on him. That let this woman step in, and grab him.”
Jimmie stared at me. The