Without Her Consent Read online

  Without Her Consent

  McGarvey Black

  Copyright © 2020 McGarvey Black

  The right of McGarvey Black to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2020 by Bloodhound Books.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in

  writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Print ISBN 978-1-913419-75-2

  Contents

  Also by McGarvey Black

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Acknowledgements

  Book Club Questions

  A note from the publisher

  Love crime, thriller and mystery books?

  You will also enjoy:

  Also by McGarvey Black

  I Never Left

  The First Husband

  Without Her Consent is dedicated to my sister, Diane McGarvey, and my mother-in-law, Regina Turkington—always supportive, kind and enthusiastic from the first stroke of my pen.

  A lie keeps growing and growing until it’s as clear as the nose on your face.

  The Blue Fairy, Pinocchio

  1

  Fall 2003

  A family of four in a green mini van motored up the Florida Turnpike headed towards Orlando, their final destination—Disney World. In the backseat, two little girls sang songs from The Little Mermaid unaware they would never make it to the gates of the Magic Kingdom.

  ‘When are we going to get there?’ asked ten-year-old Eliza Stern.

  ‘We’ve been driving forever,’ said her identical twin sister, Emily.

  ‘Thirty minutes,’ said their father, laughing at their excited impatience. He and his wife had surprised their daughters with a trip to Disney to celebrate the girls’ tenth birthdays.

  ‘There’s the sign for Disney,’ their mother said as they passed a billboard on the side of the road. ‘We’re almost there.’

  Ahead something moved oddly out of place. Their father squinted at the oncoming traffic and cocked his head as a single flickering light raced closer and grew larger. He had just enough time to comprehend that the errant light was a car with one broken headlight that had jumped the divider. Careening at a high speed directly towards the Stern’s mini van, the father tried to swerve out of the torpedoing car’s path but it came at them too fast. With one last useless attempt to protect his wife, he threw his right arm up in front of her.

  When the out of control car slammed into the Stern’s van there was a thunderous crash followed by the sound of shattering glass and a car horn that refused to stop screaming.

  Spring 2014 (Eleven Years Later)

  Silently climbing the stairs to the third floor of a long-term care medical facility, the intruder’s latex-gloved hands pulled open the heavy fire door, providing a view into a long hallway. The corridor was empty—just as planned. Walking softly ten feet down the hall and turning to the left, the intruder entered a dimly lit hospital room. A young woman lay in the bed and appeared to be sleeping. If she made a sound, she would be muffled with a pillow to keep her quiet but not to hurt her. It would be so easy. No one was on the floor. Nobody would hear her, even if she did make a fuss.

  With the bedroom door closed, the blankets covering the sleeping woman were carefully removed. Taking a few deep breaths, the intruder slowly peeled back the remaining sheet but the woman didn’t stir or acknowledge it in any way. Gently, her hospital gown was lifted and her legs methodically spread apart. She wasn’t wearing panties—one less step. Carefully, the unwanted penetration began. When the woman moaned, a bed pillow was placed over her face to quell the noise. The unholy act didn’t take long and soon everything was back in its proper place. No one would ever know. It had gone perfectly.

  2

  Eight Months Later

  It had been a busy week for forty-four-year-old Angela Crawford, MD, administrator of Oceanside Manor, an extended-care facility in Oceanside, Florida. At her desk for hours, Angela was painstakingly going over the following year’s budget when her phone rang.

  ‘Dr. Crawford, it’s Lourdes on 3 West,’ said the frantic woman’s voice on the phone. ‘We have an emergency and there’s no doctor on the floor. I need a doctor now. Eliza Stern is in labor!’

  ‘What?’ shouted Angela. ‘That’s impossible. Are you sure you…?’

  ‘I know what labor looks like,’ interrupted the seasoned nurse. ‘You’ve got to come. She’s crowning and moaning. We need you, now.’

  Angela, a trained OB-GYN, was already on her feet. ‘I’m on my way,’ she replied as she slammed the phone down and sprinted out of her office in her heels. Running down the institutional yellow hallways with white speckled terrazzo floors popular in Florida in the mid-twentieth century when the building was built, Angela dodged gurneys and food carts while sidestepping visitors and staff. Passing a nurses’ station filled with stuffed animals, balloons and bowls of candy, she barked orders at the attendant without stopping.

  ‘Find Dr. Horowitz. Send him down to 3 West. STAT!’

  With no time to wait for the perennially slow elevators that should have been replaced ten years before, Angela opted for the stairs, taking two at a time. As she raced up a flight in the east wing, she was vaguely aware her heart was pounding and she couldn’t feel her feet beneath her, a strange sensation. Arriving on the third-floor landing, she pull
ed open the heavy metal door and stepped into the hall. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she picked up her pace and jogged towards the 3 West wing.

  When she arrived at the nurses’ station slightly out of breath, she shouted to the attendant.

  ‘Which room is Eliza Stern in?’

  The startled attendant pointed to her right. ‘312.’

  Still breathing hard, Angela bolted down the corridor to a doorway where a small crowd had gathered. Two nurses and an aide were already inside with the patient.

  ‘Thank God you’re here, Dr. Crawford. I didn’t know what else to do. Everything’s happening so fast,’ said Nurse Lourdes Castro, wringing her hands.

  ‘Let me get in there,’ said Angela, stepping past the other women. ‘Someone get me a gown and gloves.’ A forty-something male floor nurse ran off as Angela carefully examined the physically distressed woman in the bed.

  ‘It looks like this baby is coming within the next few minutes,’ said Angela, shaking her head. The woman in the bed softly moaned again.

  ‘She can feel this. Eliza’s in pain,’ said Jenny O’Hearn, a young, blond floor nurse. ‘It was that same sound that made me come in here and check on her. Can we give her something?’

  ‘Let me think a minute,’ said Angela, combing her fingers through her long loose hair to get it out of her face. ‘I don’t want to give her anything yet. It might complicate things and I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with.’ Frustrated, she looked around. ‘Where is my gown?’ she shouted out to no one in particular.

  As if on cue, the breathless male nurse appeared in the doorway with a pair of gloves and a light blue gown. In a few swift moves, Angela kicked off her red high heels sending them scattering across the room in a clatter. She pulled her thick shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair into a ponytail with the stretchy band she had on her wrist for just this type of occasion. Within seconds, the gown and gloves were on and Angela turned her attention back to her patient.

  ‘How the hell did this happen?’ Angela muttered as she checked the pregnant woman’s pulse. ‘Can someone please explain this to me?’

  ‘I have no idea, doctor,’ said Nurse Castro. ‘Jenny found her.’

  Twenty-eight-year-old Jenny O’Hearn stepped forward. ‘I was going on my break to the supply room and heard a noise coming from Eliza’s room,’ Jenny said. ‘This part of the hospital is usually so quiet. It was strange to hear that kind of sound coming from one of our patient’s rooms. I walked in and saw Eliza was in distress. I checked her pulse and it was elevated so I decided to get a better look at her. When I pulled back her covers, there was a big wet spot on the sheets beneath her. At first, I thought she’d wet the bed but I remembered that would be impossible because Eliza’s got a catheter. So, I checked the catheter to see if it was leaking but everything was fine. I examined her from head to toe until I figured out what it was. Her water had broken.’

  Eliza made another low moan.

  3

  Day 1

  Just as she had been medically trained to do, Angela quickly assessed the condition of her patient. ‘This baby is coming right now. I need towels,’ she shouted as Eliza’s soft distress sounds continued.

  ‘Come on, Eliza, you can do this,’ said Angela, focused only on her patient, oblivious to the small crowd growing inside and outside of the hospital room.

  ‘Doesn’t she have to push?’ said an attendant. ‘How can she push if she’s unconscious?’

  ‘She’s doing just fine,’ said Angela calmly, not taking her eyes off the woman in the bed. ‘The human body is an amazing machine. It knows what to do even when we don’t. Here we go, the head is coming out!’

  Fifty-eight-year-old Lourdes Castro tucked a few loose strands of her salt and pepper hair behind her ears and made the sign of the cross while Angela skillfully tended to her patient and the baby that was about to enter the world. ‘The head is almost out. Once it’s completely clear, I’ll help her along,’ said Angela confidently. Moments later, the baby’s head was free and with a little manipulation, Angela cleared the shoulders and seconds after that, the tiny legs slipped easily out. Within fifteen seconds the sound of a crying baby was heard on the third floor, something that had never happened before. Everyone cheered as Angela looked down at the infant in her arms covered in blood and vernix. It had been a long time since she had done a delivery and she had almost forgotten how incredible it felt to bring a life into the world. This baby, in particular, was a miracle.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ whispered Jenny O’Hearn, tears pooling in her blue eyes.

  ‘What a beautiful baby,’ Angela said, smiling and showing the child to the others in the room. ‘No matter what the circumstances, life is life and it’s always beautiful. Welcome, little one.’

  ‘He’s a perfect little boy,’ said Nurse Castro, smiling and reaching for the baby. ‘Let me have him, doctor, so I can clean him up and weigh him.’

  Angela handed the newborn infant to the nurse as a growing audience gathered around the hospital room foreshadowing the firestorm that was coming.

  ‘Take care of that baby,’ Angela called out as Nurse Castro left the room with the child. ‘Don’t let him out of your sight.’

  ‘You did good, Eliza,’ whispered Jenny as she leaned over the always sleeping new mother and rubbed the woman’s arm. ‘I don’t know how it happened, but you’ve got yourself an amazing little boy.’

  ‘This is not a happy occasion, nurse,’ said Angela, bristling as she removed her gloves. ‘This is going to be a legal and PR nightmare. We need to figure out how this happened and who did this.’

  ‘Are you going to call the police?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘Of course,’ said Angela. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘Do you want me to make the call?’ said Jenny.

  ‘I’ll do it. I have to inform the board of directors before I do anything,’ said Angela. ‘Eliza has no family that I’m aware of so there’s no one else we need to notify. From a medical perspective, it appears that mother and baby are fine. Before Oceanside Manor is swarming with police, I have to talk to our lawyers and reach out to the other patients’ families so they hear about it directly from us and not the newspapers.’

  Nurse Castro returned a moment later carrying the still crying baby now swathed in a white blanket. Angela reached her arms out and Lourdes placed the baby into them.

  ‘He’s small — five pounds eight ounces, but seems healthy enough,’ said Lourdes, smiling. ‘He sure makes a lot of noise. That’s a good sign. Means he’s strong.’

  Angela looked down at one of the baby’s tiny hands that had slipped out of the blanket papoose. As the baby squirmed and made funny faces, Angela touched and stroked the fine coating of light red fuzz that covered the child’s head. He’s perfect, she thought, as she looked down at the new life in her arms. When she glanced up, the room full of people was staring at her, waiting for her next direction. Angela sat up straight.

  ‘Call the hospital next door. Ring pediatrics. Tell them it’s highly confidential and that we need a doctor over here immediately,’ said Angela, barking out orders. ‘I want nurses minding this baby 24/7. Is that clear? He is never to be left alone, ever. Not for one second. If you need to use the bathroom, you get someone to cover for you. If he so much as sneezes, I want to know about it. And nobody, and I mean nobody, breathes a word about this to anyone until I say so. Is that clear? Not even your families.’

  Jenny O’Hearn’s brow raised.

  ‘No one, Nurse O’Hearn,’ said Angela, observing Jenny’s surprised expression. ‘Not your mother, not your father, not your boyfriend. Do you understand?’

  Jenny, Lourdes and several nurses and aides all nodded. ‘I’m deadly serious. If one word about this gets out before I can manage it properly, we’re all screwed. If anything leaks, I’ll know it’s come from one of you and you will be fired immediately.’

  ‘I’m sure everyone understands the sensitivity of this situation,’ sa
id Lourdes. ‘No one will say anything until they’ve been given the green light. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Angela let out a sigh of relief and handed the newborn to one of the aides. ‘Lourdes, you’re in charge down here. Get Eliza cleaned up and set up a crib in her room for the baby. I want them kept together.’

  ‘Absolutely, Dr. Crawford,’ said Nurse Castro. ‘Shouldn’t we send the baby over to neonatal at the hospital?’

  ‘Not yet. That’s why I asked for a pediatrician to come here and why I want 24/7 nurses with this baby,’ said Angela. ‘We’ll send him over if the pediatrician thinks we need to, but not until I square things with the board. We can’t afford any publicity. If we send a newborn over to Oceanside Medical now, we’ll lose control of the situation.’