Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (45 page)

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Panicking, she stood and moved to the corner of the room where she’d left her diaper bag. In case she’d need it, she pulled out the dissecting kit, along with the old rags she’d packed, and the extra blankets she’d found in the boxes left in the unit. “I…I was in a coma when they gave me a C-section,” she said, approaching the mattress. “Which is what I planned to give you. But if the baby is going to come naturally, then that’s God’s will.”

Please, Lord. Help me remember what to do.

“Would you shut the fuck up about God’s will or His plans, and uncuff my hands?”

“I can’t do that.” She placed the towels over the soiled blankets and moved Chloe onto her back. Then she moved Chloe into a sitting position, tossed the blankets on the mattress and eased the girl against them. “Raise your knees. I need to clean you.”

With her arms behind her back, Chloe’s chest thrust forward, rising and falling at an alarming rate. Her face was still coated in sweat, but was no longer pale. Instead, her cheeks had grown red and tiny veins bulged at her temples. Eyes wide and wild, she licked her lips. “I…I don’t know if I can do this.”

Heather reached behind her and found her cell phone in her purse, then checked the time. She’d been in the unit for less than five minutes. If Chloe was in labor, then she’d had at least two contractions during that time. Whether she was prepared or not, this baby was coming.

“You can and you will,” she said, opening several water bottles, then dousing one of the extra rags. After she set the lantern on the mattress, she cleaned Chloe.

“I’m so scared,” Chloe sobbed. “Please help me. I’m so scared.”

She poured more water on the rag. “Be strong and of good courage,” she began, quoting Deuteronomy, “do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.”

“Shove your one-liners up your ass, you Bible-thumping—” Chloe dug her heels into the mattress, raised her head, then let out another long cry. Heather glanced at her cell phone. Less than a minute had passed. Her heart pounded hard. Sweat dripped from her forehead. Fear and panic had her hands trembling and her stomach knotting. She thought back to the Lamaze classes she’d taken and spread Chloe’s legs further apart. The girl’s knee blocked the light from the lantern. She moved the lantern closer, and half sobbed, half laughed. “I think I see something. Maybe you should try pushing.”

“Maybe you should go and—” Chloe screamed and raised her head again.

Heather quickly reached into her bag, then pulled out a pair of latex gloves. “Don’t hold your breath.” After putting on the gloves, she gently touched Chloe’s vagina. “Praise, Jesus, I feel the baby’s head.” Smiling, she looked up to Chloe, whose breathing had become alarmingly harder. “It won’t be long now. Be strong, Chloe. You can do this.”

The girl’s face contorted again. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and squeezed her eyes shut.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Push.” She looked between the girl’s thighs and saw the dark hair lining the top of the baby’s head. “Again.”

Chloe grunted and groaned. “It hurts so bad.” She blew out several deep breaths. “It—”

“I see his eyes and nose. Come on, Chloe. You can do this,” she encouraged, and placed her hand on the baby’s head. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She’d never known such joy could exist. For the second time, she’d been the first to touch a new life, and she said a silent prayer to God, begging him to let this child live and promising that she would be a good mother to him.

Chloe sobbed. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I can do it.” She closed her eyes and her head rolled against the blankets.

“You have to,” she demanded. “Come on and give me one hard push.”

Chloe lifted her head. Her face grew red and her lips twitched into a snarl as she pushed again.

Heather kept one hand beneath the baby’s head, then when his shoulders passed through, she helped him slip free. When he let out a screeching wail, she laughed and cried. Using the soft, clean cloth she’d had in her diaper bag to wipe the mucus from his adorable, scrunched-up face and tiny little nose, she gazed down at her son in astonishment. “He’s beautiful,” she said. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Chloe lifted her head. “Can I see him?”

Although she appreciated Chloe’s efforts, this child was a gift that now belonged to her. The girl didn’t deserve to see the baby. Between the drug use and whoring, she’d been selfish and inconsiderate, and had no right to God’s miracle.

She cut the umbilical cord with the dissecting kit’s scalpel, then placed a fresh piece of gauze over it. Once she was home, she’d clean the baby properly. For now, she wanted to take him away from the filthy storage unit as fast as possible. After she removed the gloves, she swaddled the baby in one of the blankets she’d been given at her baby shower thirteen years ago, then she held him close and kissed the top of his head. He stopped crying and looked up at her. Fresh tears sprang in her eyes and she praised the Lord for what he’d given her today.

Another chance to be a mother.

Chloe grunted. “Why do I feel like I need to push again?”

She looked at the girl, at her eyes wide with fear, then remembered something else from her Lamaze classes. “I think you need to pass the placenta.”

“I…I don’t know what that is. What do I— Wait, what are you doing?”

Heather pulled the pile of blankets from beneath Chloe’s head and set them down on the floor near the mattress. After resting the baby there, she began tossing the dissecting kit and anything else she’d taken from the diaper bag, back inside. She placed the latex gloves in one of the empty, plastic grocery bags, along with the water bottles she’d touched with her bare hands, then looked around the unit. Her fingerprints would be on the cooler, the lanterns and the fans. She couldn’t carry everything back to the apartment while holding her child, so she would have to come back later tonight.

As Chloe writhed along the mattress, she remembered the padlocks and Wayne’s safety harness. She couldn’t remove those just yet. She’d originally planned to give Chloe a C-section, and based on what had happened with Missy, Chloe would have likely died during childbirth or shortly thereafter. Now the girl would have to suffer and die from heat and dehydration. Although she wished Chloe’s death could have been quick, she wouldn’t question God’s plan. When the time was right, He would take the girl and she would no longer suffer.

“Answer me,” Chloe demanded.

She turned off the fans, then all of the lanterns but one. “I need to take my baby home.”

Chloe craned her neck toward the floor, where the baby lay on the blankets. “Let me see him.”

“There’s no point.”

“No point? You crazy bitch.” She winced and pressed her heels into the mattress. “I just gave birth and—”

“I’m tired of your foul mouth. You’re obviously exhausted. Close your eyes and try to get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Chloe tried to rise, but fell back against the mattress, closing her knees, she let out a soft sob. “Are you coming back?”

Heather slung her purse and the diaper bag over her shoulder, then carefully lifted her baby. He yawned, then closed his eyes. Love poured from the depths of her soul. From the moment she’d touched his head, she’d fallen in love with her son and she swore she would love him, no matter what, unconditionally. She no longer cared if the baby wound up being another race. He was hers, and that was all that mattered.

“Answer me,” Chloe shouted.

Remembering the gag, she set the baby back down, then reached for the cloth around Chloe’s neck. “I think you already know the answer,” she said. Before the girl could respond, she silenced her with the gag. Chloe’s narrowed eyes welled with tears as she stared at her with hatred. “Since you gave me my son, I will pray that God takes you quickly. I suggest you pray, as well.”

She picked up her baby, turned off the last lantern, then using her free hand, lifted the steel garage door. After she slammed it shut, she secured the padlock and began walking toward home.

Her son let out a quiet sigh. She looked down at him and grinned. “Wait until your daddy meets you,” she whispered, then kissed his perfect, little nose. “He’s going to fall in love, too.”

*

The gag muffled Chloe’s cries as she gave one last push. The placenta, or whatever had been inside of her, fell onto the mattress with a squishy plop. She closed her legs and curled onto her side, her outer thigh sinking against what she’d just expelled. The blankets beneath her were soaked with what she assumed was her blood and the other fluids that went along with giving birth.

Surrounded by blackness, the stench of her body and the thick, hot air, she didn’t care. Without her baby inside her, without his little kicks, for the first time in her life she now understood true loneliness. She had no idea what her son looked like, or what it felt like to hold him, but she already missed him. Heather had taken the best part of her. She’d also robbed her of the chance to be a mom. To prove to her son that despite her mistakes, she loved him. She’d had no idea it was possible to love someone who hadn’t been born, or that she’d never seen or met. But she simply did.

She squeezed her eyes and sobbed. Now her son was in the arms of a woman who needed to be locked inside a padded room. The vulnerability she’d been dealing with since she’d awoken, handcuffed and bound to the heavy dresser, became unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The powerlessness, the inability to not be able to protect herself, let alone her son, left her hollow inside. Even if she was miraculously saved, without her baby, she didn’t want to live. It might have taken her being ganged raped to realize it, but her son had given her a reason to change and want to become a better person. She might have given him life, but he’d resuscitated hers.

The gag soaked up the tears burning a path down her cheeks. Because of the handcuffs, her shoulders and arms had grown numb long ago. Below the waist she ached everywhere. But nothing hurt worse than knowing she’d die here, without ever kissing her baby, without telling her mom, dad and brother she was sorry. Without proving to herself that she could be a better person.

Heather had taken so much from her. Sobs racked her body. And she needed to pay.

She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Without the lanterns, the room had become a black abyss. The darkness suffocated her almost as much as the heat, but it didn’t scare her like she thought it would. Death did, though. She didn’t want to die, and was terrified of the unknown. Heather claimed God was watching over them, and had designed a plan for each of them. She didn’t know if that was true, but considering that she’d given birth under horrible circumstances, she honestly believed there had to be some sort of high power. Whether that was God or not, she didn’t know. She prayed to that high power anyway. Thanked the Universe for giving her a son, asked that her child would be strong, find his way in the world and not be corrupted by Heather. She begged for forgiveness and the strength to face the afterlife without fear.

Her tears slowly subsided. Peace and exhaustion consumed her almost as much as the darkness. And as she drifted off to sleep, she sent out one last prayer.

She prayed that Heather would know what it was like to truly suffer.

*

Wayne jerked awake to the wail of a crying baby. He rubbed his eyes, then looked to the TV, where a rerun of one of his favorite true crime shows played. The cry wasn’t coming from there.

His entire body tensed.

The cry came from his apartment.

He shoved off the couch and rushed to the bedroom he had yet to share with Dimples, then turned the door knob. Locked. He pounded on the door. The crying grew louder. “Dimples,” he yelled.
Oh, God, what have you done?
“Open the door or I’ll break it down.”

When he heard a soft click, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. Dimples stood near the bed holding the tiniest baby he’d ever seen. Betrayal speared him in the heart. His knees buckled as the image of the dog breeder’s bloody body shook him to the core. He staggered into the room, then fell against the dresser and used it for support.

“What did you do?”

Dimples looked down at the screaming baby she rocked, and smiled. “Before you get mad, come meet Elton.” She looked up at him. “He’s absolutely perfect. Do you want to hold him?”

Acid burned his chest and rose in his throat. He glanced from the baby to Dimples. “Where’s the mother?” he asked, shoving off the dresser. “Where is she?”

“Ssh,” she cooed, and kissed the baby’s head. “Calm down, Mama’s going to get you something to eat.”

She had formula? They’d only been in Chicago for a week. She’d promised never to take another baby, and he’d stupidly believed her. He clenched his jaw. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Oh, hon, stop with all the questions.” Still rocking the baby, she moved toward the door. “Let me get Elton a bottle and—”

“No.” He reached over and slammed the door shut. “I want answers. Now, damn it.”

She blinked several times before narrowing her eyes. “Wayne Cooke, there’s no reason to cuss in front of me or the baby. Our son needs a bottle, so if you’ll let us—”

“No,” he shouted again. “Not until you tell me where he came from and what’s happened to his mother.”