The Dark at the End
WEDNESDAY Chapter 3
"Doctor Heinze?" Dawn Pickering said as he approached her stalking spot.
That was what she called this stretch of hallway in the McCready building where she'd set up watch on Kenneth Heinze, MD. She'd totally memorized his office hours and had made a point of being in the building whenever he was. Sooner or later Mr. Osala or Gilda or Georges would appear with the baby, bringing him in for a checkup.
Or so she hoped. He'd been present at the delivery. Didn't it stand to reason that whoever had the baby would follow up with Dr. Heinze? At the time she'd been impressed at how Mr. Osala had totally thought of everything, even going so far as to have a pediatrician on hand to check out her newborn.
She'd had no idea what they had in mind. She'd been whisked in and out of a surgicenter she could not identify. She'd tried contacting Dr. Landsman, the obstetrician, but he said he'd never heard of her and had left instructions with his office building's security that she was not to be allowed in. During her pregnancy he'd examined her in his office during off-hours and done his own ultrasounds. She'd thought she was getting VIP treatment but now she realized no one on his staff would remember her. And Mr. Osala and his entire household had vanished.
Her only link was Dr. Heinze. She remembered thinking of "fifty-seven varieties" when she'd first heard his name. But when she looked she found only one pediatrician named Heinze in the five boroughs. She'd thought she was on the wrong track when she learned he was a pediatric surgeon. Why had they thought they needed a surgeon? But one look at this tall, fair-haired man with the round, apple-cheeked face totally dispelled all doubts. He was the one.
But still ... why had they wanted a surgeon who specialized in children on hand?
Maybe they'd expected problems. After the quick glimpse she got of her child she wasn't surprised. The black body hair, almost like fur, the clawlike hands - nobody had prepared her for that. But the most horrifying of all was the tentacle springing from each of his armpits, writhing in the air like little snakes.
And then they'd said he'd stopped breathing and they whisked him away. The next day they told her he hadn't survived. She'd been so not ready for that. And since she'd already signed him away for adoption, they never let her see him.
But she didn't believe he was dead. Neither did Jack. And so she was totally determined to find him. She'd let her baby down before - tried to abort him, signed him away to be raised by strangers - but things had changed. She was so not going to let him down again.
Dr. Heinze walked past. He either hadn't heard her or was ignoring her. She had a chance to back off. And maybe she should. Confronting him was dumb. She needed to hang back and keep lurking. She'd made a point of dressing in business casual and staying on the move so she looked like she belonged here. The research wing of the McCready Foundation's headquarters had restricted access, but the outpatient areas were open to the public.
Patience, she told herself. Sooner or later the baby would show.
But her patience had thinned, and now it tore. Totally.
"Doctor Heinze?" she repeated.
He stopped and gave her a pleasant smile. "Yes?"
"Remember me?"
He stared at her with no hint of recognition. "Should I? Were you once a patient?"
"My name's Dawn Pickering and you stole my baby."
His eyes widened and the apple in his cheeks faded. Now he recognized her.
"I-I did no such thing."
"Then you helped. Where's my baby, Doctor Heinze? Where's my baby?"
He pushed open his office door. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Please leave."
She followed him inside.
"Where's my baby, Doctor Heinze?" She felt herself losing it. No turning back now. "Where's-my-baby-where's-my-baby?" Startled looks from parents and little patients in the waiting area as her voice rose in pitch and volume. "Where's-my-baby-where's-my-baby?" The receptionist grabbing the phone and calling someone, had to be security, but Dawn was screaming now and it felt so good to scream. "WHERE'S-MY-BABY-WHERE'S-MY-BABY-WHERE'S-MY-BABEEEEE?"
That was what she called this stretch of hallway in the McCready building where she'd set up watch on Kenneth Heinze, MD. She'd totally memorized his office hours and had made a point of being in the building whenever he was. Sooner or later Mr. Osala or Gilda or Georges would appear with the baby, bringing him in for a checkup.
Or so she hoped. He'd been present at the delivery. Didn't it stand to reason that whoever had the baby would follow up with Dr. Heinze? At the time she'd been impressed at how Mr. Osala had totally thought of everything, even going so far as to have a pediatrician on hand to check out her newborn.
She'd had no idea what they had in mind. She'd been whisked in and out of a surgicenter she could not identify. She'd tried contacting Dr. Landsman, the obstetrician, but he said he'd never heard of her and had left instructions with his office building's security that she was not to be allowed in. During her pregnancy he'd examined her in his office during off-hours and done his own ultrasounds. She'd thought she was getting VIP treatment but now she realized no one on his staff would remember her. And Mr. Osala and his entire household had vanished.
Her only link was Dr. Heinze. She remembered thinking of "fifty-seven varieties" when she'd first heard his name. But when she looked she found only one pediatrician named Heinze in the five boroughs. She'd thought she was on the wrong track when she learned he was a pediatric surgeon. Why had they thought they needed a surgeon? But one look at this tall, fair-haired man with the round, apple-cheeked face totally dispelled all doubts. He was the one.
But still ... why had they wanted a surgeon who specialized in children on hand?
Maybe they'd expected problems. After the quick glimpse she got of her child she wasn't surprised. The black body hair, almost like fur, the clawlike hands - nobody had prepared her for that. But the most horrifying of all was the tentacle springing from each of his armpits, writhing in the air like little snakes.
And then they'd said he'd stopped breathing and they whisked him away. The next day they told her he hadn't survived. She'd been so not ready for that. And since she'd already signed him away for adoption, they never let her see him.
But she didn't believe he was dead. Neither did Jack. And so she was totally determined to find him. She'd let her baby down before - tried to abort him, signed him away to be raised by strangers - but things had changed. She was so not going to let him down again.
Dr. Heinze walked past. He either hadn't heard her or was ignoring her. She had a chance to back off. And maybe she should. Confronting him was dumb. She needed to hang back and keep lurking. She'd made a point of dressing in business casual and staying on the move so she looked like she belonged here. The research wing of the McCready Foundation's headquarters had restricted access, but the outpatient areas were open to the public.
Patience, she told herself. Sooner or later the baby would show.
But her patience had thinned, and now it tore. Totally.
"Doctor Heinze?" she repeated.
He stopped and gave her a pleasant smile. "Yes?"
"Remember me?"
He stared at her with no hint of recognition. "Should I? Were you once a patient?"
"My name's Dawn Pickering and you stole my baby."
His eyes widened and the apple in his cheeks faded. Now he recognized her.
"I-I did no such thing."
"Then you helped. Where's my baby, Doctor Heinze? Where's my baby?"
He pushed open his office door. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Please leave."
She followed him inside.
"Where's my baby, Doctor Heinze?" She felt herself losing it. No turning back now. "Where's-my-baby-where's-my-baby?" Startled looks from parents and little patients in the waiting area as her voice rose in pitch and volume. "Where's-my-baby-where's-my-baby?" The receptionist grabbing the phone and calling someone, had to be security, but Dawn was screaming now and it felt so good to scream. "WHERE'S-MY-BABY-WHERE'S-MY-BABY-WHERE'S-MY-BABEEEEE?"
