All She Ever Wanted Part 33

She circled her spa.r.s.e notes and doodled tiny stars around the circle. Grace Santos was on her way, and although Chelsea had hoped to have something for her, she simply had not kept an eye on the refrigerator yesterday.

In front of her, the Sounder bills were neatly clipped into three stacks. Before Annie had been taken from them, Chelsea had been starting to get them organized. She didn't have the patience to go through these invoices with the rep today, but now would be a good time to get that preapproval for her visit with Dr. Chin.

It was a positive thing, a step in the right direction, so she called the helpline. With the speakerphone on, she was free to fidget, buffing the fixtures at the kitchen sink, dusting the fireplace mantel and the bal.u.s.trades of the staircase. Nervous cleaning.

A few minutes later there was a tap on the side door, and Chelsea opened it to Grace.

"Come in." She tossed her dust rag under the sink and wiped her hands on her jeans. "I'm on hold with my insurance company, but I can't hang up. They're so hard to reach and I'm number two in the queue, and-"

"No problem." Grace nodded toward the speakerphone. "We can talk over it."

"I hate that annoying music they play." Chelsea adjusted the volume. "Do they really think anyone likes that?" For the first time she noticed lines radiating from the outer edges of Grace's eyes. Was there bad news? "What's happening?"

"To cut to the chase, we're closing in on Helen Rosekind, your baby nurse. Her credentials are questionable-we're not even sure she's a licensed nurse-and it appears that she's living under a stolen ident.i.ty."

"But she came from an agency. They said she was a licensed nurse." Chelsea gripped the sides of the kitchen counter behind her as the shock faded and pieces fell into place. "But she's a nurse, and . . . and a lot of infant abductors pose as medical personnel, right?"

"That's true."

"Did you arrest her? Did you find her? Is Annie with her?"

"Chris is on his way over to stake out her place. We're doing some background checks, but it's not happening as fast as I would like. Right now, we don't have enough evidence to get a search warrant."

"But what about Annie?" Chelsea nibbled on a cuticle. "Isn't she the priority?"

"We have to operate within the law."

"I don't care about the law. We have to save my baby!"

"Chelsea, listen to me. Helen Rosekind-or whatever her name is-she's not going anywhere. We're watching her. And if she has Annabelle, we have every reason to believe she's taking very good care of her. Let's do this right, for Annabelle's sake."

"I can't wait anymore." Chelsea pressed her hands to the sides of her face. "Annie needs us, now."

The phone announced that her personal representative was coming on the line.

"Not now . . ." Chelsea crossed the room to disconnect the phone, but Grace waved her off.

"Finish your call." She held up an iPhone. "I have some messages to check."

As Chelsea reached the phone, the rep was on the line.

"This is Janet, your Sounder rep," the voice said brightly. "How can I help you?"

"I just want to know how I can get approval for therapy," Chelsea said. She would keep the phone call short.

"I'm happy to help you with that. Can I have the name and Social of the insured?"

Chelsea plucked an insurance invoice from the rolltop desk and read off all the information Janet needed. She hated this routine of going through every little bit of information with each call, but Janet said it was required.

"You were asking about therapy," the rep said. "Did your doctor recommend it?"

"Yes . . . for postpartum depression."

"I don't see a referral from Dr. Volmer."

"I had a consultation with a specialist-out of plan," Chelsea said. "She wants me to have therapy. I'm suffering from postpartum depression."

"You went out of plan? Then the therapy won't be covered."

"You're kidding me."

"That's Sounder's policy," the rep said. "But you should be okay without the therapy. The depression won't hang on much longer with Annabelle gone."

Janet's voice was a stab through the heart.

Chelsea tossed the invoice onto the stack. "How did you know that?"

"I'm sorry. It's on the national news, of course."

"So . . . wait. You're saying I don't need help because someone kidnapped my child?"

"In a way, you already got the help you needed." The rep's voice was deadly calm. "You were fantasizing about killing your baby, Ms. Maynard. You put her out in the cold in a flimsy yellow nightgown. What kind of a mother does that?"

"I . . . I don't remember doing that. I was drugged."

"You didn't want your baby, Ms. Maynard. Now she's with someone who wants her."

A second later, Grace was by her side, plucking a pen from the cubby in the desk.

The yellow outfit was NOT in any of the news reports. It's not public knowledge.

Chelsea's blood chilled.

Grace was right. The police had decided it was best to keep some of the details private and . . . Chelsea and Leo hadn't shared them with anyone.

OMG! Chelsea wrote: How could she know that?

Keep talking, Grace wrote, obviously baffled. Tell her you want the baby back.

"I know I was a wreck," Chelsea said. "I said some terrible things, but I'm starting to feel better and I need my baby. I want her back."

"Have you considered that maybe she's better off without you?" Janet asked.

"I made mistakes," Chelsea admitted as Grace wrote: Who is she?

Quickly, Chelsea put her pen to the notepad below Grace's scrawl.

Janet Walker, Sounder Health Care.

She studied Grace's face for a clue as to what was going on. How could this woman on the other end of the phone be connected to her baby?

How did Janet Walker know these things?

But all the information the woman needed was laid out on her computer monitor: Annabelle's address. Chelsea's medical history. A line-by-line version of their lives.

Janet Walker had used that information and now . . .

She knew about the yellow nightgown.

Janet Walker knew about her Annabelle, d.a.m.n her.

Chelsea longed to grab her by the neck and start shaking the truth out of her. But for now, she would stay connected, keep her talking. Anything to get closer to Annabelle.

Chapter 44.

When Chelsea first took the call, Grace had been distracted by the message on her own phone. Jimmy had sent her confirmation that Helen Janet Walker did not have a valid license to drive or work as a nurse in the state of Arizona. Not giving up there, Jimmy had thrown the net wider, but so far no hits on that search.

Her instincts shouted that the baby nurse had Annabelle Green; she hoped a judge would agree with her and sign a search warrant.

She had forwarded Jimmy's e-mail to Chris and their boss, Bruce Hopkins, who would move on the warrant. Grace was just about to thank Jimmy when she noticed Chelsea growing tense with her phone conversation.

The insurance rep was a bit of a psycho; her demeanor was invasive, to say the least. But something about her stopped Grace in her tracks.

Then she made the crack about PPD . . . and the yellow nightgown.

When Chelsea told her the rep was named Janet Walker, Grace was stunned.

Helen Janet Walker.

Of course! The woman needed a way to access information about pregnant women-delivery dates, health status, addresses-and working as a representative for a health insurance company gave her total access to that information.

Keep her on the phone, Grace wrote on the pad. KEEP TALKING!!!

She dashed out the door and ran to her car, ignoring the curious reporters who shouted out to her.

"Detective! What's going on?"

"Do you have a break in the case? Have you found Annabelle Green?"

As she steered toward the Rosekind place, she got Chris on the line. "The baby nurse is the one . . . she has to be. I hope Annabelle is with her. Are you there yet?"

"Been here for about ten minutes."

"I'm on my way. Rosekind must have the baby, or else she knows where Annie is," she said. "She was probably sleeping when we went there last night."

"I'll make sure no one leaves the building, and I'll call a boss."

"I already sent Jimmy's evidence to Sgt. Hopkins. I hope he can get us a search warrant."

"You want some uniforms?" he asked.

"Definitely. We could use extra hands and eyes."

Grace turned on the dashboard light and floored it on the Hutch, her heart racing as she sifted through details.

Yes . . . she had seen the office setup, the headset and boxes, and Helen had said she worked for an insurance company. That had to be how she found Chelsea and Leo-and any other pregnant couples she might have considered stealing from. Right now she was working on Chelsea and Leo's claims.

She had sneered at Chelsea, reminding her of the dark fantasies of postpartum depression. Of course, she knew Chelsea's medical history, and she'd been using it against her.

Had Helen/Janet dropped off the tainted m.u.f.fins? But how could she have known that Leo would be out of town?

Still, there were so many unanswered questions.

What if the baby was inside with "Janet Walker"? Grace worried about a potential hostage situation. Could the baby have been there last night? Tucked into the bedroom? Maybe that was the reason that Helen wouldn't allow them to step inside.

At the moment, Annabelle was their first priority. They had to focus on safe entry and safe recovery of Annabelle Green. If Chelsea was able to keep Janet on the line, police staff would be able to surround the house and eventually coax the baby from her abductors.

When Grace pulled up, Chris was standing outside his car, looking up at the house with two uniformed officers. She was relieved to see that one of them was Mike Balfour. With a sergeant on the scene, they could make a move.

She scrambled out of the car and joined them. "Sarge. You got here fast."

"This missing baby has been on my mind all week. Since that neighbor was a dead end, I've been listening for this dispatch," Mike said. "You think the kid is inside?"

"I do." She gave him a quick update on the case.

"Okay." The sergeant glanced up at the house. "Second-story apartment, and you spoke with the woman yesterday, right?"

"Last night," Chris said. "And we evacuated the first-floor tenants before you got here-just in case."

"Good." Balfour scratched the center of his forehead with a thumb, as if preparing for the sign of the cross. It reminded Grace to send up a prayer of her own.

"Let's get someone on the back, just so no one squirts out a window or back door," the sergeant said. "As soon as we get the warrant, we'll go and announce ourselves and see if she comes out to talk with us. If we can get in to search, I see no trouble with her handing over the baby. In cases like these, abductors are not usually violent."

Grace opened her jacket to adjust her gun belt. "Not usually, but anything is possible."

"Right. Never let your guard down. We stay strategically safe," Balfour said as another unit pulled up.

Within ten minutes there was a call saying the judge had signed the search warrant. Grace put her hand on her gun. She prayed that this was the end of their search for Annabelle.

Two cops were sent to cover the backyard, while Grace and Chris climbed the stairs, Balfour and Viloria behind them.

As she took her position on the side of the door, Grace listened for any sound of the baby, but it was too quiet. No fussing or crying. d.a.m.n.