Chapter 5 - The Supply Room.
The security alert on Mae’s hospital phone changed everything.
Until that moment, Leah had still been thinking like a patient.
A frightened patient.
An angry patient.
But still a patient who believed someone in authority would eventually notice that something was wrong and correct it.
The message on Mae’s screen destroyed that belief.
MATERNITY PATIENT LEAH CARVER AND INFANT ELI CARVER UNACCOUNTED FOR.
DO NOT ALLOW PATIENT TO EXIT UNIT WITH INFANT.
Requested by: Celia Rusk, MD.
Leah stared at it until the letters blurred.
“I am standing twenty yards from my hospital room.”
Mae nodded.
“I know.”
“How am I unaccounted for?”
“You’re not where they expected you to be.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Mae slipped the phone back into her pocket.
“But it gives security a reason to stop you if we walk into the hallway.”
Leah looked at Eli.
“So we are trapped.”
“Not exactly.”
Mae crossed the cramped room and moved a box of sterile drapes from a lower shelf.
Behind it was a narrow secondary door Leah had not noticed.
“What is that?”
“Service access.”
Mae tried the handle.
Locked.
She pulled a ring of keys from her waistband.
“Supply used to connect directly to the old lactation rooms before they remodeled this wing.”
Leah stared at her.
“You knew this was here?”
“I’ve worked nights in this building for eleven years.”
Mae tried a second key.
Nothing.
Outside the main door, footsteps returned.
Nathan’s voice came through the wall.
“Leah?”
Mae froze.
Leah’s whole body tightened.
“Leah, if you can hear me, please answer.”
There was urgency in his voice now.
Real urgency.
For half a second, Leah almost responded.
Then she remembered the hallway conversation.
Once the psychiatric hold is signed, the baby leaves with family.
Leah doesn’t get a choice.
She remained silent.
Nathan knocked lightly.
“I am trying to help you.”
Leah closed her eyes.
The sentence sounded almost identical to something Doreen had said the night before.
Mae tried another key.
A soft click.
The service door opened two inches.
Mae looked back at Leah.
“We have a way out.”
“Where does it go?”
“Not out of the hospital.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It gets us off this corridor.”
Nathan knocked again.
“Leah, security is looking for you.”
Mae whispered.
“That is exactly why you do not answer.”
Leah looked at the bassinet.
“How do we move him without making noise?”
Mae glanced at the narrow opening.
“We don’t use the bassinet.”
Leah immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“I am not separating you.”
Mae reached for a soft infant carrier stored in a sealed cabinet.
“I’m putting him against you.”
Leah hesitated.
Her incision hurt even when she breathed deeply.
Mae seemed to read her face.
“I’ll support most of the weight.”
Outside, Doreen joined Nathan.
“Did she answer?”
“No.”
Doreen’s voice became colder.
“She is proving the concern.”
Nathan answered sharply.
“She is scared.”
“And why is she scared of us?”
Leah opened her eyes.
The question was not rhetorical to her.
She knew exactly why.
Mae helped secure Eli against Leah’s chest.
The baby made a tiny sound and then settled again.
Leah kissed the top of his head.
“I’ve got you.”
Mae took Leah’s arm.
The service passage beyond the hidden door was narrow and dim.
Exposed pipes ran along one wall.
Dust gathered in the corners where housekeeping carts no longer traveled.
Mae closed the door behind them.
The voices in the corridor became muffled.
Leah moved slowly.
Every step hurt.
Mae kept one hand beneath Leah’s elbow and the other near Eli’s back.
“Where are we going?” Leah whispered.
“Old lactation consult room.”
“Can they find us there?”
“Eventually.”
“Then what?”
“We get someone outside Doreen’s circle involved.”
“Who?”
“Patient advocacy.”
Leah almost laughed.
“You think a patient advocate is going to believe me over a doctor, my husband, and a donor who helped build the wing?”
Mae stopped walking.
“No.”
Leah stared at her.
Mae continued.
“I think evidence might.”
They reached a small room with two faded armchairs and a sink.
Mae locked the door behind them.
Leah lowered herself carefully into one chair.
She breathed through the pain until the room stopped spinning.
Mae crouched in front of her.
“I need to tell you what I know.”
Leah looked at her.
“All of it.”
Mae nodded.
“Three days before your delivery, Dr. Rusk asked staff to document any behavior that suggested confusion, refusal of care, mistrust, or agitation.”
“Why?”
“She said you had a history of anxiety and that your family was worried about postpartum decompensation.”
Leah’s face went cold.
“What history?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“I do.”
Leah looked away.
“Two years ago, after a miscarriage, I saw a counselor for panic attacks.”
Mae waited.
“I went for four months.”
“There is nothing wrong with that.”
“I know.”
Leah’s voice hardened.
“But Doreen hated that I went.”
Mae frowned.
“Why?”
“She said therapy made people obsessed with their feelings.”
“Did Dr. Rusk know about it?”
“I told her I had seen a counselor after the miscarriage because she asked about medical history.”
Mae nodded slowly.
“That may be part of what she used.”
Leah’s hands tightened around Eli.
“Used for what?”
“To justify closer observation.”
“That does not explain the false notes.”
“No.”
Mae looked troubled.
“The false notes started after Doreen began visiting the nurses’ station.”
Leah stared at her.
Mae continued.
“I noticed one entry describing you as confused before the event it supposedly described.”
“The 4:05 note.”
“Yes.”
“Then another one appeared this morning.”
“The one saying I was fixated.”
Mae nodded.
“I printed it because I knew it might change.”
Leah studied her.
“Why are you risking your job for me?”
Mae looked down for a moment.
Then she answered.
“Because twelve years ago my sister had a baby in another hospital.”
Leah waited.
“She was exhausted, overwhelmed, and afraid.”
Mae’s voice stayed steady, but her eyes changed.
“She asked for help.”
“Did someone use that against her?”
“No.”
Mae shook her head.
“They ignored her until she stopped asking.”
Leah said nothing.
Mae looked back at her.
“I learned something from that.”
“What?”
“Women after childbirth get labeled too quickly in both directions.”
“Too emotional when they speak.”
“Fine when they stay quiet.”
Leah looked down at Eli.
Mae continued.
“I am not qualified to diagnose you.”
“And neither is Doreen.”
“Exactly.”
“So who is?”
“A behavioral-health physician who evaluates you independently.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed.
“Is that who they are bringing?”
“I don’t know.”
Mae stood.
“That is what worries me.”
She pulled out her phone and opened the staff directory.
“I’m calling Evelyn Grant from patient advocacy.”
Mae dialed.
No answer.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Leah looked toward the door.
“Can you call outside the hospital?”
“Who?”
“My sister Rachel.”
Mae handed her the phone.
Leah dialed from memory.
The call went directly to voicemail.
Leah’s stomach sank.
Rachel taught elementary school and rarely checked her phone during class.
Leah left a message.
“Rachel, it’s me.”
She stopped.
How could she explain this without sounding exactly like the person Doreen was trying to create on paper?
She forced herself to speak calmly.
“I need you to come to Briar Glen.”
A pause.
“Do not call Nathan or Doreen first.”
Another pause.
“Just come to the hospital and ask for patient advocacy.”
Leah swallowed.
“I’m safe right now.”
She looked at Mae.
“And Eli is with me.”
She ended the call.
Mae’s phone immediately vibrated.
A new message.
Mae read it.
Her face changed.
“What?” Leah asked.
Mae turned the screen toward her.
STAFF NOTICE: NURSE MAE ROWLAND TO REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO CHARGE OFFICE REGARDING UNAUTHORIZED REMOVAL OF PATIENT AND INFANT FROM ASSIGNED ROOM.
Leah stared at the message.
“They’re blaming you.”
“Yes.”
“Go.”
Mae looked at her.
“If you don’t go, they’ll make this worse for you.”
“They already have.”
“Mae.”
“I am not leaving you hidden in an old room with no way to call for help.”
Leah looked toward the door.
Then a soft knock sounded from the other side.
Both women froze.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Mae’s expression changed.
“You know that pattern?” Leah whispered.
Mae nodded.
She stepped toward the door.
“Who is it?”
A woman answered quietly.
“Someone who has the recording.”
May you like
Leah recognized the voice.
Simone.
