Silent Pledge. Hannah Alexander

a black-market baby ring in the area, and he thinks those bikers have something to do with it. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

       Chapter Seven

       A t seven o’clock Sunday morning, Mercy Richmond walked down the second-floor hallway of Knolls Community Hospital. Her stomach growled at the aroma of breakfast. She listened to the clatter of plastic and the clink of china and glasses as the aides collected trays from the fifty-three private-room patients. Census was up. Foot travel was heavier than usual, and the low rustle of charts and papers in the nurses’ station and the talk and laughter from televisions in the rooms were more pronounced.

      “There you are!” came a deep female voice behind her, and she turned to find Mrs. Estelle Pinkley, hospital administrator, stepping around a tall kitchen cart.

      Mrs. Pinkley, a few years past retirement age, had the bearing and vitality of a college student. Her white hair, feathered back from her face in feminine lines, exposed a high forehead. She was as tall as Mercy’s five-eight, and she always made Mercy feel dowdy. Today she wore an elegant blue dress with a cowl neck. The blue brought out highlights in her lively and intelligent gray eyes. If Mercy made it to church at all this morning, she would wear what she had on—blue jeans and a red cable-knit sweater.

      Estelle showed few outward signs of the injuries she had sustained in the October explosion. The general public was seldom aware that arthritis, from which she’d suffered for several years, now concentrated itself on her injured arm and leg during flare-ups. People usually didn’t know what took place in her personal life unless she revealed it. For instance, everyone in Knolls knew she was an ethical lady who made intelligent decisions. Everyone knew she was a churchgoer. Few people knew that she and her husband dedicated the majority of their combined income to support three missionaries—one in Minsk, Belarus; one in Guatemala; one in China. And she seldom displayed the scope of her biblical knowledge here at the hospital.

      Estelle reached out and drew Mercy with her into the small conference room beside the nurses’ station. The heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. Mercy took a deep whiff. The smell was wonderful. Coffee was off her diet, however. Lately it had been giving her the jitters.

      “I’ve just been on the telephone talking to our contractor,” Estelle said.

      “This early on Sunday morning?” Mercy said dryly. “I’m sure he appreciated the call.”

      “He didn’t complain.” Estelle reached into her pocket, pulled out a dollar and deposited it in a collection cup for the purchase of future refreshments for staff. Then she picked up the coffeepot and filled a clean mug. “He has a good head for business. He’s polite, and he knows how to get the most out of his workers. I wish more of our directors were like that. We’re ahead of the initial schedule by at least three weeks.” Estelle’s sharp, decisive voice with its gravelly timbre held the familiarity of some of Mercy’s earliest memories. Estelle and Mercy’s mom, Ivy, had been friends since they attended Knolls Elementary School together.

      “He hired three more men last week at my request,” she continued.

      “Why do that if they’re already ahead of schedule?”

      “Because I want the job done sooner. I hope to see our emergency department up and running by the end of February if possible.”

      “You’ll probably get what you want,” Mercy said.

      A pleased smile flitted across Estelle’s face and was gone quickly. When she was in fighting form—which was all the time, even right after her near-death experience in the explosion—she could take on an Angus bull.

      “I see you’re still working out of the storeroom,” Mercy said.

      Estelle took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. “And that is where our offices will stay until the rest of the hospital is complete. Patients come before carpeting and wallpaper, and if anyone wants to complain, they can come and talk to me.”

      Mercy laughed. “If that happens I want to be there to see it.” Before Estelle became hospital administrator five and a half years ago, she had been prosecuting attorney for Knolls County. A handful of people in the area who had found themselves on the wrong side of the law resented her. The rest loved and respected her, and Mercy was one of them. Estelle represented safety and stability in their small town, and Knolls Community Hospital was now one of the best small hospitals in the state—and would be again, once the damaged areas were rebuilt.

      “So,” Estelle said with a penetrating look at Mercy, “I don’t like the looks of those dark circles under your eyes. Can you get Lukas back here to help us out until then? Both of us need him.”

      Mercy felt the truth of those words, but she knew her own personal need to have him in her life was not what Estelle meant.

      The administrator put the coffee cup down and poured in some powdered creamer, stirred it, tasted again, and nodded, satisfied. “Think of your patients if you refuse to think about your own health. We need our E.R. doctor available for them. Even with the additional lab and X-ray capabilities in your clinic, you can’t do it all yourself. There isn’t another E.R. within an hour of here.”

      “There are other doctors in town.”

      “Yes,” Estelle snapped, “and they’re complaining about being overworked, but I don’t see any circles under their eyes.”

      “They aren’t going through menopause,” Mercy said.

      “Maybe you wouldn’t be, either, yet, if you didn’t have so much stress. We need another doctor, and Lukas should realize that just by talking to you.” She paused and gave Mercy a thoughtful, penetrating glance. “You two are still seeing each other, aren’t you?”

      Sometimes Mercy wondered if Estelle had some mind-reading ability. “Mom’s been talking to you about me again.”

      Estelle shrugged. “Ivy knows you’re being overwhelmed at the clinic. She worries about you.”

      “That doesn’t give her any rights to interfere in hospital politics.”

      “She’s doing what any concerned mother would do.”

      Mercy could only shrug and shake her head. Her mother was a generous benefactress of the hospital, and sometimes, when she found some strings she wanted to pull, she used her advantage.

      “I’ve taken steps to help with the overload,” Mercy said. “I hired Lauren McCaffrey to work at the clinic until the E.R. is operational again. She’s a good E.R. nurse. She’s taking up a lot of the slack.”

      “She’s not on call twenty-four hours a day like you are,” Estelle said. “Get Lukas back here, for all our sakes.”

      “I’m not sure he wants to come back.”

      “Then convince him otherwise.”

      “He’ll listen to you before he’ll listen to me.”

      Estelle studied Mercy’s face for a moment and gave an astute nod. “But he’ll listen to you with his heart.” She laid a hand on Mercy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Bring him home, my dear. It’s where he needs to be.” She glanced at her watch. “I must get to early service before they start praying for my wayward soul. Then I have a day’s work in my office to complete.”

      “Sounds like you need to practice what you preach,” Mercy said.

      With a final pat on Mercy’s shoulder, Estelle poured the leftover coffee into the tiny sink in the corner, rinsed the cup in the sink and strode out of the room, leaving the scent of lavender in her wake.

      Before Lukas ended his shift at 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning, he had treated three babies ranging from two weeks to three months. Their cries haunted him and made him think, once again, about Marla Moore’s missing baby. Judging by the conversation he overheard from other staff members, most people supposed the child had been kidnapped. Much suspicion hovered over the