Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

POE ALWAYS FELT a tingle in Helene’s presence—an enlivened state of being. Even when she was all business. Even when the circumstances were bleak. Like now. Standing a few inches behind her in the elevator, Poe fixated on the clip that held her blond hair in a tight bun above her jacket collar. It was a small circular disk the color of a blood moon. As omens go, it was far from good.

Marple squeezed his arm. “Please behave yourself when we get there,” she whispered.

“When have I not?” asked Poe.

A second later, the elevator door opened onto total chaos.

Poe could hear women crying even before he saw them. He followed Grey and Marple toward the nurses’ station in the center of the unit. Cops and nurses and detectives were milling around the hallways. Hospital security honchos paced the floor in dark suits while floor guards in short-sleeved shirts gripped their walkies and tried to appear useful.

Poe looked toward a small glass-fronted room off the main unit. The crying was coming from there, from where half a dozen women in shapeless hospital gowns were sobbing and wailing and clinging to one another like condemned prisoners. Suddenly, Poe felt a hard shoulder against his chest. An athletic man in a bulky grey suit was blocking the way. Like Helene, he wore a detective badge around his neck.

“What are these assholes doing here?” he asked. The question was directed at Grey, as was the follow-up: “Who the hell invited PIs to an active crime scene?”

“Back off, Vail,” said Helene. “I brought them in. My call.”

Poe was fully aware of the friction between his firm and the NYPD in general. The reason for it was simple. Holmes, Marple & Poe Investigations had recently solved some very big cases—right under the noses of the police department. Those noses were still out of joint. But Poe didn’t care. He poked Detective Vail in the chest. “Haven’t you heard? There’s been a kidnapping.”

“That’s not possible,” said Vail. “This place has security up the ass. You couldn’t steal a goddamn Band-Aid from this floor.”

Before Poe could respond, Marple yanked him aside. “Stop it, Auguste! You won’t make any friends with that attitude.”

“I’m not here to make friends,” Poe replied. “I’m here to get answers.”

A nurse in burgundy scrubs walked up and handed Grey a sheet of paper.

“Is this the list?” Grey asked.

The nurse nodded grimly. She had the look of a woman at the end of a very long shift—maybe two.

Grey tapped the page. “Six,” she said. “Six missing newborn babies.”

Poe looked at Marple. Helene had not exaggerated. This was a huge case. Too bad their firm was not at full strength. He leaned over and whispered in Marple’s ear. “Of all the times to be one brain short!”