B.J. Daniels - A Woman With A Mystery

“You know my office is closed the week of Christmas,” he said when Slade called him.

“That’s why I’d like you to see this woman. I’d just as soon have this done…quietly.”

Dr. Delaney didn’t ask. “Three o’clock.”

Holly Barrows arrived a few minutes before her appointment. Slade had half expected her not to show and realized he was going to have to start believing at least some of what she said.

The checkup didn’t take long. Dr. Delaney came out of the examining room and motioned for Slade to follow him into his office.

“Close the door,” he said as he went around behind his desk.

Slade didn’t like the look on the older man’s face.

“She delivered a baby in the last month or so. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Sweet heaven. Slade felt light-headed. His baby. Holly had been telling the truth.

“There was quite a lot of tearing,” Dr. Delaney continued. “The baby could have been overly large. Either there wasn’t time for an episiotomy or…one just wasn’t done. I would imagine she was in a lot of pain during the delivery.”

Slade felt a cold anger fill him. “You’re saying the delivery wasn’t handled properly?”

Dr. Delaney blinked. “I would have no way of knowing that. The baby could have come too quickly for anything to be done.”

“Or the doctor could have bungled it.” Slade knew how doctors hung together. Especially when the word malpractice started floating around.

“Do you know who delivered this baby?” Dr. Delaney asked in answer.

He shook his head. Maybe a midwife. Maybe monsters. “But believe me, I intend to find out.”

It wasn’t until he and Holly left the office that Slade realized he’d forgotten to ask Dr. Delaney about the man in Marcella Rawlins’ life.

“Are you all right?” he asked Holly once they were outside.

She looked over at him and he sensed something different about her. She didn’t look as much like a sleepwalker. “Did you get the proof you needed?”

“Yes. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.” All of it, including the pregnancy and delivery without him.

“Where to next?” she asked, her eyes glinting with what appeared to be a combination of anger and stubborn resolve. This wasn’t easy for her, he could see that. But she wasn’t backing down. It reminded him of the Holly Barrows he’d known. And that was something he didn’t need to be reminded of.

He hadn’t planned to take her with him, but he changed his mind. “The hospital. I want to find out who supposedly delivered your baby.”

Dr. Eric Wiltse didn’t look anything like a doctor. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and a Carhartt jacket. His face was tanned and his sunbleached hair hadn’t even started to gray at the temples. It was pulled back in a ponytail. How he’d ended up in Dry Creek, Slade could only wonder. His office was in the new building at the edge of town but this morning he was making rounds at County Hospital, a small fifteen-bed hospital with an even smaller staff because of the holiday.

“Dr. Wiltse?” Slade inquired, although he’d already seen the man’s name tag. He stepped in front of Wiltse, blocking his way.

The doctor, not much older than Slade, seemed more annoyed than surprised as he glanced from Slade to Holly. He didn’t seem to recognize her.

“We just need a moment of your time,” Slade said, pushing open a supply-room door and shoving the good doctor in.

“Hey, what the—” That was all Dr. Wiltse got out before Slade grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and shoved him against a shelf full of towels.

“I understand you were the emergency-room doctor the night Holly Barrows delivered her baby,” Slade said. “I don’t have a lot of time and even less patience.”

The doctor’s eyes widened as he took in Holly again. “This is against all hospital pol—”

“The delivery. Were you assisted? Did you deliver the baby by yourself? If you want, Ms. Barrows here will sign whatever papers you need to release you from any oaths you might have taken, doctor.”

“And who will keep me from filing assault charges against you?” the doctor asked, jerking free of Slade’s grasp. But he didn’t try to leave the supply room. Nor did he look like he was going to put up a fuss.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you,” he said to Holly. Memory loss seemed to be going around. “When did you deliver?”

“Halloween night. I was told my baby was stillborn.”

His eyes narrowed and he nodded, recollection sparking in his expression. “Yes. You look…different.” His gaze came back to Slade’s, a hardness to it. “I assume you’re the father?”

Slade assumed the same thing, but said nothing.

The doctor continued. “Yes, I remember now. The male infant was stillborn.”

A son. Slade felt sick, filled with a terrible sense of loss. The baby had been stillborn. His baby. His baby and Holly’s. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the sister-in-law had been right. In her grief, Holly had come up with this crazy story about monsters, a secret room and a baby who had lived and was stolen and replaced with a stillborn.

“Then you delivered the baby,” Slade said, feeling sick.

The doctor looked surprised as he glanced from Slade to Holly and back again. “She had already given birth when she was brought in, more than likely without any help, from her condition.” His look said he thought Slade would have known that. “She was unconscious and suffering from hypothermia. I stitched her up and tried to make her comfortable the best I could.”

Slade stared at him. “She didn’t give birth here? Then where?”

“I have no idea. I was told that both mother and infant had been found in that condition and some good Samaritan got them to the hospital.” His accusing tone made it clear he wondered where the father of the baby had been during the delivery.

Was there even the slimmest chance that Holly’s memories could be real? That their baby was still alive somewhere? He tried to hold down the surge of hope, but it was impossible. However, he reminded himself, this still didn’t rule out the possibility that Holly had given birth alone for whatever reason. She would have been frightened and in a great deal of pain and then when the baby was stillborn, she would have had a monstrous amount of guilt—as well as tearing.

“This good Samaritan, do you know where we can find him?” Slade asked.

“You would have to ask the admitting nurse. I was called in just to check them both and pronounce…” He glanced at Holly, a practiced look of sympathy coming to his gaze. “…the baby stillborn.”

“You’re sure it was hers?” Slade said.

The doctor blinked. “Who else’s baby would it have been? Both mother and child were covered in blood and it was obvious she’d just given birth.”

“Then the umbilical cord was still attached?” Slade asked.

Dr. Wiltse looked uncomfortable. “The cord had been severed, but I assumed the mother had done that herself before she passed out.”

“Is that normal—to pass out after a delivery?”

The doctor shrugged. “It’s possible. It was also cold that night. She was experiencing some hypothermia.”

“Could she have been drugged?”

Dr. Wiltse blinked. “I wouldn’t know. We don’t routinely check for drug use.”

“Is there any way to find out?”

The doctor seemed to consider this for a moment. “We always do blood typing on both mother and baby, but we only keep the samples for seven days after the birth.”

Blood typing. “Would the blood typing confirm the baby was hers?”

“Possibly. It would depend on the blood type of the mother and father compared to that of the baby.”