“Get my husband for me. He’s the tall guy, Native American features. He’s my partner as well as my husband. So—”
“They don’t allow that.”
“We’re a special unit. Please, sir—”
“I am on it, but what if he wants a slew of cops? A tactical team, a SWAT team. Oh, my God—”
“Sir! He will not. Trust me. I’m going to knock at the door and pretend to be a midwife. Jackson will just come as my husband to see if anything is needed since she is close to delivery.”
At last, the spirit trusted her. He nodded and turned away. She smiled grimly as she walked to the front of the house and the front door.
She wondered what might have happened if she had banged on the door and asked if he’d seen Cindy Lawson. Who knows? A man in his condition could have come out firing. And if she’d seen a gun . . . well, they were taught how to survive, though no decent agent was ever happy when there was no choice except to kill in self-defense.
Now she had to hope Cindy Lawson wasn’t in a state of panic so severe that she didn’t realize she needed to play along.
She tapped. And tapped again.
The door opened just an inch.
The young man standing there had close-cut light brown hair, a clean-shaven and handsome face, and looked suspicious.
“Hi, sir!” she said cheerfully. “I’m Angela Crow and working with your wife from the maternity department. So many of our patients have chosen home births lately. I hope you’re not disturbed by your wife’s choice, but—”
“You’re a midwife?” he asked, frowning.
“Midwife and LPRN,” she lied, smiling. “I’ve been tasked with seeing your lovely wife this afternoon and making sure all is going well and discussing her choices again. I am so sorry! We have an appointment. Didn’t she tell you?”
“She’s been crazy today!” he told her, and to Angela’s relief, he stepped back, allowing her to enter. He was wearing a denim jacket. And just as her jacket covered her Glock, she saw he was hiding a holster and a gun.
How to get it from him! That was the most crucial matter at hand!
“Come. I’ll bring you to her. I believe she’ll be anxious to see you. But . . . be warned, she’s doing a lot of ranting and raving. I think . . . well, I don’t know if you’ve had a child or not—”
“I have.”
“Well, did you go a little crazy? I mean, I don’t think she’s in labor, but—”
“Let me see her. I worked with late pregnancies a lot. I’m accustomed to a lot of ranting and raving!” she assured him.
He gave her a nod. She was surprised when he didn’t lead her upstairs but rather through the kitchen and downstairs. And there, in the basement, he’d prepared an incredible room. CindyLawson was laying on a long and handsome sofa, a big loveseat, so it appeared, one that faced a cradle and a wonderfully prepared room for a baby. She was moaning and twisting; but hearing them arrive in the room, she turned around and said, “Who are you? Who do you think you are? You’ve got to get me home, get me out of here! I’m afraid, so afraid!”
Angela had managed to get ahead of David, and she signaled to Cindy that she knew who Cindy was. Angela whispered Cindy’s real name, and an assurance that playing this game would get Cindy to safety. She had so feared the woman wouldn’t believe her, that she’d get hysterical—or even give her away. But while she was still somewhat hysterical, whether she understood or not, something else was at play.
“I think I’m going into labor!” the woman cried.
“Okay . . .” Angela murmured.
“Thank God your midwife is here!” David cried from behind her.
“It’s . . . first a pain. Just a pain. Then minutes went by and then they started coming closer and closer—”
“How far apart?” Angela asked her.
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe every five minutes—”
“I need my kit,” Angela told David.Did she know what the hell she was doing? But at this point, was it possible to disarm the man and get the woman to a hospital in time?
There was a knock at the door.