"Not exactly."
Her mother sighed, as if Laura had the brains of a wooden block. "A woman your age, with a baby, might have a hard time finding another man. That's important to think about before you make any rash decisions."
Laura closed her eyes. She felt dizzy and sick, and she clamped her teeth down on her tongue because she couldn't trust what she might say to her mother.
"Now I know you think I'm wrong. You've thought I was wrong before. I'm looking out for your interests because I love you, Laura. What you've got to figure out is why Doug decided to play around, and what you can do to make up for it."
Her eyes opened. "Make up for it?"
"That's right. I told you a long time ago, a headstrong man like Doug needs a lot of attention. And he needs a loose rope, too. Take your father. I've always held him on a loose rope, and our marriage is the better for it. These are things a woman learns by experience, and no one can teach her. The looser the rope, the stronger the marriage."
"I can't…" Words failed her. She tried again, knocked breathless. "I can't believe you're saying these things! Do you mean… you want me to stay with Doug? To look the other way if he ever decides to" – she used her mother's term – "play around again?"
"He'll outgrow it," the older woman said. "You have to be there for him, and he'll know that what he has at home is priceless. Doug is a good provider and he's going to be a good father. Those are very important things in this day and time. You need to be thinking about healing the wound between you and Doug instead of talking about divorce."
Laura didn't know what she was about to say. Her mouth was opening, the blood was pounding in her face, and she could feel the shout beginning to draw power from her lungs. She longed to see her mother cringe before her voice, longed to see her get up from that chair and march out of the room in a practiced sulk. Doug was a stranger to her, and so was her mother; she didn't know either of those pretenders to her love. She was about to shout in her mother's face, though she didn't yet know what she was going to say.
She would never know.
Two nurses – one of them Erin Kingman and the other an older, stockier woman – entered the room. Following behind them was a man in a dark blue blazer and gray slacks, his face round and fleshy and his brown hair receding from a high globe of a forehead. He wore black horn-rimmed glasses, and his shoes squeaked as he approached Laura's bed.
"Excuse me," the older nurse said to Laura's mother. Her name tag read: Kathryn Langner. "Would you go with Miss Kingman for just a few minutes, please?"
"What is it?" Laura's mother stood up, her radar on full alert. "What's wrong?"
"Would you come with me, please?" Erin Kingman stood at the woman's side. "We'll just step out into the hall, all right?"
"What's going on? Laura, what's this all about?"
Laura couldn't answer. The older nurse and the man moved in to take positions on either side of the bed. A foreboding of horror swept like a cold tide through Laura's body. Oh Jesus! she thought. It's David! Something's happened to David!
"My baby," she heard herself say frantically. "Where's my baby?"
"Would you wait in the hall, please?" The man spoke to Miriam in a flat tone that said she would, whether she liked it or not. "Miss Kingman, close the door on your way out."
"Where's my baby?" Laura felt her heart pounding, and there was a fresh twinge of pain between her legs. "I want to see David!"
"Out," the man told Laura's mother. Miss Kingman closed the door. Kathryn Langner grasped one of Laura's hands, and the man said in a quieter, steady voice, "Mrs. Clayborne, my name is Bill Ramsey. I'm on the security staff here. Do you remember the name of the nurse who took your child from this room?"
"Janette something. It started with an L." She couldn't recall the last name, and her brain was sluggish with shock. "What's wrong? She said she was going to bring my baby right back. I'd like him back now."
"Mrs. Clayborne," Ramsey said, "no nurse with that first name works on the maternity ward." Behind his glasses, his eyes were as black as the frames. A pulse beat at his balding left temple. "We think the woman may have taken your child from the premises."
Laura blinked. Her mind rejected the last three words. "What? Taken him where?"
"From the hospital," Ramsey repeated. "Our people are checking all the exits right now. I want you to think carefully and tell me what this woman looked like."
"She was a nurse. She said she worked on weekends." The blood was roaring in Laura's head. She heard her voice as if at the far end of a long tunnel. I'm about to faint, she thought. Dear God, I'm really about to faint. She squeezed the nurse's hand and was met by forceful pressure.
"She wore a nurse's uniform, is that correct?"
"Yes. A uniform. She was a nurse."
"Her first name was Janette. Did she tell you that?"
"It was… it was… on her name tag. Next to the Smiley Face."
"Pardon me?"
"The… Smiley Face," Laura said. "It was yellow. A Smiley Face button."
"What color was the woman's hair and eyes?"
"I don't -" Her thinking was freezing solid, but there seemed to be pulsing heat trapped in her face. "Brown hair. Shoulder-length. Her eyes were… blue, I think. No, gray. I can't remember."
"Anything else about her? Crooked nose? Heavy eyebrows? Freckles?"
"Tall," Laura said. "A big woman. Tall." Her throat was closing up, dark motes spun before her eyes, and only the pressure of the nurse's hand kept her from passing out.
"How tall? Five nine? Five ten? Taller?"
"Taller. Six feet. Maybe more."
Bill Ramsey reached under his coat and pulled out a walkie-talkie. He clicked it on. "Eugene, this is Ramsey. We're looking for a woman in a nurse's uniform, description as follows: brown shoulder-length hair, blue or gray eyes, approximately six feet tall. Hold on." He looked at Laura again, whose face had gone chalky except for red circles around her eyes. "Heavyset, slim, or medium build?"
"Big. Heavyset."
"Eugene? Heavyset. Got a name tag that identifies her as Janette, last name begins with an L. Copy?"
"Copy," the voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.
"The button," Laura reminded him. She was about to throw up, the nausea hot in her stomach. "The Smiley Face button."
Ramsey clicked the walkie-talkie on again and gave Eugene the extra information.
"I'm going to be sick," Laura told Kathryn Langner, tears burning trails down her cheeks. "Would you help me to the bathroom, please?"
The nurse helped her, but Laura didn't make it to the bathroom before she expelled her lunch. Laura, cold as death, slipped from the woman's grasp and fell to her knees onto the floor, and when she splayed there she felt the raw pain of the stitches tearing between her thighs. Someone was called to clean up the mess, Laura was returned to bed shivering and dazed with shock, and Ramsey allowed her mother back into the room with Miss Kingman. The young nurse had already told Laura's mother what was happening, and Ramsey sat beside the bed and directed more questions at both of them. Neither could recall the woman's last name. "Lewis? Logan?" Ramsey prompted. "Larson? Lester?"
"Lester," Laura's mother said. "That was it!"
"No, it wasn't that," Laura disagreed. "It was something close to Lester."
"Think hard. Try to see the name tag in your mind. Can you see it?"
"It was Lester!" the older woman insisted. "I know what it was!" Her face flamed with anger. "Jesus Christ, is this your way of running a hospital? Letting crazy people come in and steal babies?"
Ramsey paid her no attention. "See the name tag," he told Laura while the nurse pressed a cold washrag against her forehead. "Look at the last name. Something like Lester. What is it?"