Bloodline. Maggie Shayne

moving rapidly now. A pair of jeans came out first. There were panties beneath them, and several large-size maxi-pads like the one she was already wearing, postlabor. She pulled on the clothes underneath her hospital gown, then grabbed the sports bra and T-shirt from the bag, and put them on, as well. She was in such a hurry that she wouldn’t have taken the time for the sports bra, but her breasts were swollen with milk, and heavy and tender and sore. It would help. So she took those few extra seconds to put it on without removing the hospital gown. And then she untied the strings holding the gown in back, stripped it off and stuffed her arms into the T-shirt sleeves almost in one motion. There were shoes in the backpack. Flip-flops. She shoved her feet into them, wadded up the hospital gown and stuffed it into the bag, then zipped it and headed for the sidewalk. Walking fast, barely able to suppress the overwhelming urge to break into a run, she left the hospital far behind her.

      Soon, sooner than she could have believed, she was walking on a busy sidewalk, past shops and restaurants and convenience stores, and no one was paying any attention to her.

      They would be, though. Someone would notice her missing from the hospital. And it wouldn’t be long. But what would they do about it?

      There was a ringing sound. A phone ringing. Close.

      Frowning, she realized it was coming from inside the backpack, so she stopped walking and yanked the sack off her shoulder and dug around inside until she found a brick-size mobile phone. She pulled it out, extended the antenna and held it to her ear, terrified, looking around in search of the caller. As if he or she were close. Watching her. God, she was scared, and she wasn’t even sure why.

      “Did you get clear?”

      She recognized the voice. It was the nurse who had helped her. “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

      “Where are you?”

      “I…I don’t know. On a street.” She looked around. “Near the corner of Main Street and Elm. I’m standing in front of a jewelry store.”

      “Okay, listen, there’s a bus stop about a block ahead of you, on Main. Do you see it?”

      Serena looked one way, then the other, and spotted the bench inside the plastic weather guard. “I see it.”

      “The bus should be pulling up any minute now. Get on it. Get off at the third stop. I’ll pick you up there. I’ll be in a red VW, okay?”

      “I don’t—I don’t understand what’s going on. Is my baby alive? Why are they lying to me? Why couldn’t I just tell them I wanted to leave and sign myself out? What—”

      “The bus should be there any second, Serena. Don’t miss it. There’s money in the same pocket where you found the phone.”

      “But—”

      “Your baby’s alive. Now go. Catch that bus. I’ll explain the rest once you’re safe.”

      The phone cut off. But Serena had heard the only words she really needed to hear. “My baby’s alive,” she whispered. A smile pulled her dry lips, feeling alien. “My baby’s alive,” she said again, and she began walking again just as the giant bus lumbered into sight and pulled to a stop. She was running for the bus stop as the air brakes hissed and the door cranked open. She tucked the phone into the backpack and slung it over her shoulder as she got aboard, pausing at the top of the steps to fumble in the backpack for money. She found a wad of bills and a handful of change, dropped some coins into the receptacle and then made her way to the first empty seat and sank into it.

      As soon as the bus lurched into motion, she felt a rush of relief, relief that grew with every bit of distance she put between herself and the hospital. The relief of knowing that her baby was alive was making her almost giddy. And the fear of being pursued was gone, as well.

      She wondered what was behind all this. It must be some sort of baby-stealing ring. They were probably planning to arrange an expensive adoption to some wealthy couple and make a small fortune by selling her child. The doctor must be in on it. But all her nervousness was probably overkill, wasn’t it? And the nurse was no doubt just being dramatic. After all, it wasn’t as if they would want to hurt her, was it? Why would they lie to her if they were just going to…kill her or something?

      She was okay. She was free. Maybe once she started digging, started getting close to finding her baby, maybe there would be danger then. But surely not now. She was away from the hospital. She was meeting with the one person who might be able to tell her what was going on. She was fine. And she was going to get her baby back.

      The bus stopped. Serena went back over that phone call in her mind. The third stop. She was to get off at the third stop. So there were two more to go. She used the time to examine the contents of the backpack more carefully. The file folder contained medical records—her baby’s time of birth, weight, length, head circumference, blood type.

      Blood type—marked with a star. She read the notation beneath it. Child possesses the Belladonna antigen. Extremely rare. Government notification mandatory.

      She frowned, not knowing what that meant, then felt eyes on her. Glancing up, she saw the man in the seat across from her look away quickly. She closed the file folder and thrust it back into the bag just as the bus stopped again. The man got off.

      Serena took a surreptitious look around as the bus began moving again, saw no one paying her undue attention, and again pawed through the bag. There was a set of keys, with a tag on them, like a luggage tag. The address on the inserted card read 72 Montgomery Ave.

      Finally the bus stopped for the third time. Serena zipped up the bag, got up and slung it over her shoulder, then made her way to the front, down the steps and onto a sidewalk in the suburbs. The bus pulled away as she looked up and down the neat, unlined road. And then she spotted it. A little red VW Bug, parked across the street alongside a playground. It was a convertible, and the top was down, giving Serena a clear view of the woman behind the wheel. As it was no doubt meant to do.

      It was the nurse she remembered, Maureen Keenan, no longer in uniform or wearing a name tag. She lifted a hand in a friendly wave as she saw Serena.

      Smiling in relief, certain she was about to get some answers, Serena looked both ways, then began to cross the street. Just as her flip-flops hit the pavement, the little red car exploded.

      3

      The Present

      There was something about the man who stood across the tack room, staring at me. Something that made things deep inside me begin to stir and tingle and…ache.

      Did I know him?

      I saw surprise in his eyes, followed by suspicion and a hint of fear, though why he would be afraid of me, I couldn’t begin to imagine. I hadn’t expected that reaction. I thought he would either try to kill me, as that other person had, or offer to help me. That he would fear me made no sense.

      I let my eyes move up and down, inspecting everything about him and wishing something would elicit a memory. I felt a longing—and something else—and I wondered why.

      He was tall, and his rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed hard, hairy forearms that my fingers suddenly yearned to touch. His shoulders were wide and strong. Strong enough to hold my tired head quite easily, I imagined. Strong enough to ease my worried mind, too. Why would a man like this one be afraid of me?

      And yet, that was what I felt.

      My gaze ran over him again and again, as if drinking him in, and the more I looked, the more relieved I felt, though it made no sense. My attention lingered on his face, because I was suddenly helpless to look elsewhere. He was a beautiful man, with eyes as dark as melted chocolate and moodier than a storm cloud. So much in those eyes—restless, reckless things, but hidden just enough that I couldn’t identify a single one. His hair was gleaming black and long, its natural waves captured and bound in a leather band behind his head.

      And again, that flash. My fingers burying themselves in hair just like that.

      His hair? Was this the man I was