Rick Mofina - Whirlwind

But Jenna Cooper’s case was one of the most agonizing she’d ever reported on. Look at all Jenna had suffered: her baby’s missing, her home’s gone. How much more was that poor woman supposed to endure? And even more heartbreaking was Jenna’s belief that she was to blame.

As the city flowed by, her words echoed: I was holding him but I let him go. It’s my fault that I lost him.

That’s why for Kate this was more than a news story. Not because so much was riding on her internship with Newslead-it cut deeper, forcing her to face her own guilt over her little sister…pulling her back years to the accident when she’d gripped Vanessa’s hand …

…the cold numbing her fingers, felt them loosening, unable to hang on…until Vanessa slipped away…

I let her go.

It also forced Kate to face her guilt about her daughter.

She looked at her phone and traced her fingers over Grace’s sweet face on the screen. Oh God, how she missed her. She was horrible for leaving her. I’m so sorry . But there were no jobs for her in Ohio. They’d run out of money and options.

Kate didn’t know what the future held for them. She was giving this story all she had but it was taking a toll. She was exhausted and filled with remorse for thinking of herself. She accepted something she’d known since her first days as a reporter: when you covered tragedies, a piece of you died inside.

Not long after Kate had returned to the near-empty newsroom and started working on her story, Tommy Koop materialized at her desk.

“Hey, Tommy, where is everybody?”

He glanced around. “Chuck’s out. Dorothea’s running things for today. Be very careful.”

“Why?”

Tommy leaned in and dropped his voice. “She’s taken a few extra spoons of bitch in her coffee today.”

As Kate nodded her thanks for the warning, Dorothea summoned her to her office.

The news editor was at her desk, eyes on her monitor, eyebrows raised as she stared at the updated news budget list.

“I’m reading your slug line regarding today’s story.” She turned to Kate. “Is this the best you’ve got?”

“Yes. They’ve just discovered they’ve lost their home while they continue to agonize about their missing baby.”

“It’s tragic but a bit soft.”

“It’s not soft. And it’s exclusive. Did you see Mark Danson’s photos? They’re good.”

“Not yet. Couldn’t you find anything newsier, harder?”

“I contacted every source and official connected to the story-there’s nothing new so far.”

“What about the FBI? Any leads after the motel, any more new tips in their search for their persons of interest?”

“Nothing, they’re still processing the motel room. They’ve told me nothing so far.”

Dorothea’s eyebrows climbed a little more and she turned back to her monitor.

“Fine, we’ll have to go with this,” she said. “I don’t really need to remind you that the time on the internship is winding down. In a few more days, Chuck and I will have to make a decision on the successful candidate.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Mandy and Roy will be assigned to help with coverage of the President’s visit. I’m sure we’ll find something for you.”

“But I thought Chuck wanted me to stay on this story to its conclusion?”

“Yes, that’s something I’ll discuss with him when he gets back from his meeting. That’ll be all, Kate, thanks.”

Shreveport, Louisiana

Ed Bascom sat on a bench in the park across the street from the Beau Soleil West Medical Center, as his subject had instructed him to do.

Her name was Jan Marie Cross and she was a nurse at the hospital.

Bascom was confident she would tell him what he needed to know for his client Hedda Knight in Chicago.

I sure as hell hope so .

The adoption lawyer had been pathologically demanding with her relentless texts and calls for him to confirm that Remy Toxton had delivered the baby and to locate the child.

“Offer people money, Ed. I don’t care how you do it, just do it!”

Since the earlier information he’d obtained about Arkansas dead-ended, Bascom had gone full tilt on the case. He’d returned to Lufkin, Texas, and Remy’s neighborhood for more door-knocking, finding a neighbor he’d missed the first time.

Ned Weller, a retired electrician, had been walking his dog when he saw paramedics with All Aid Ambulance Service take a young woman from the house in the night. No siren or lights, so few people would’ve noticed. Ned was good with time and dates because he’d always walked Rider, his retriever, after Letterman and that night Clooney was his guest.

As all private investigators know, medical information is confidential and there are laws against obtaining medical history or records. Bascom acknowledged that when he went to All Aid’s office and worked a ruse to find out where their ambulance had taken Remy and about her condition.

He claimed to be her estranged dad; that Remy’s mother had a terminal condition and he needed to learn more about their daughter’s, and possibly their grandchild’s, situation before his wife died, and how he was praying people could find it in their heart to help him.

“Oh no, that is so sad.” The assistant at the office blinked fast when Bascom showed an old picture of himself with his wife and daughter, saying it was Remy.

The assistant had then gone into the database, reviewed the call then put Bascom in touch with the two paramedics who’d transported, his “daughter,” out of state. “You should talk to them,” she said, scrawling numbers on a slip of paper. “Give it a moment. I’ll call them first and explain.”

Bascom’s success with the assistant led him to Don Dunlap, one of the paramedics, who was not as easily moved by Bascom’s story. In fact, Dunlap was reluctant to help. But, after Bascom suggested he would consider compensating him for his time, Dunlap agreed to meet him privately the next evening at his son’s baseball practice.

Dunlap was nervous at the ballpark. “Look,” he said. “How do I know you’re her estranged father? Talking about a patient is risky for me.”

“I understand. She’s got a boyfriend, Mason,” Bascom said. “He may have been with her at the time. He’s an ex-convict. We’re worried. Remy’s mother is terminal and we’ve got a lot of pain in our lives to make up for. And if Remy’s got a baby now, well, maybe my wife can pass knowing that we’ve made a new start, you know?”

Bascom looked off to the laughing children playing on the diamond.

Dunlap looked down, kicking gently at gravel as he thought.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell you much and I’m not giving you any paper.”

“Any help would be appreciated.”

“Before I left work today I looked at my patient chart for that trip. She was having trouble breathing, which can happen in the third trimester. She was not bleeding and the fetal tone was fine. But the mother’s vitals were a little off. She was having some pain. We got her on oxygen, stabilized her. We transported her to hospital-that’s really all I can tell you.”

“Wait, where? What hospital?”

“Out of state. We were advised to take her to Shreveport, to the Beau Soleil West Medical Center. It’s a faith-based nonprofit, might’ve had a connection to her boyfriend’s employer. I think he’s a carpenter.”

Bascom thanked Dunlap and offered him cash, which he rejected.

“I changed my mind about that. My old man walked out on us when I was a kid and never tried to reach me the way you’re doing. It just got me thinking.”