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“The babies,” said Grey, her voice cracking. “What about the babies?”
“They’re next,” said Shane. Another nurse wheeled in a metal cart holding a monitor and a keypad. Shane pointed to exactly where she wanted it, near the back wall. The nurse positioned the cart and stepped back. Shane slipped on a fresh pair of gloves. She pulled the hospital sheet down and lifted Grey’s blouse, exposing her protruding belly. She grabbed a small container.
“You know the drill, Helene. I’m applying some gel. It’ll feel slippery and cool.”
Grey nodded. Poe stroked his fingers across her forehead and around her temple. His eyes were glued to the screen. Shane picked up the ultrasound wand and placed it below Grey’s navel. She worked the wand back and forth until a grainy image appeared on the screen.
“What can you see?” asked Poe. “What’s happening?”
Shane was silent for a few moments. The only sounds in the cubicle were the beeps from the pulse monitor. She wiggled the wand a bit more. The image filled with two round objects, like roughly shaped white balls. Shane stared at the screen intently. “I’ve got two babies. And two heartbeats.” She tapped the keyboard to bring up the Doppler audio. “This is baby A.” The cubicle was filled with a loud whooshing sound. Shane shifted the wand slightly. “And this is baby B.” More whooshing. Clear and strong.
Tears started to run down Grey’s cheeks.
“But they’re not moving!” said Poe anxiously.
“Don’t worry,” said Shane. “They’re fine. You couldn’t move much either if you were stuck in a tiny sac next to another human.” She held the wand still. “Do you already know the sex of the babies?”
“No!” said Poe, averting his eyes.
“We want to be surprised,” said Grey.
Shane lifted the wand as a nurse reached over to wipe off the gel. “Good for you. There aren’t enough mysteries left in this world these days.”
“Hello? Hello?”
Poe looked toward the curtain. It was Holmes, calling from outside, pawing at the fabric as if he was trying to claw his way through.
Poe looked at Shane. “He’s our business partner. Is it okay?”
Shane nodded. One of the nurses swept the curtain back. Holmes stepped in.
“Looks like everything’s okay,” said Poe. He glanced over at Shane.
She nodded. “Everybody looks good.”
“Just a little scare,” added Grey, lifting her head off the pillow.
Shane pulled off her gloves and leaned on the gurney rail. “Listen to me, Helene. You’re well into your third trimester now, with twins. I want you to go home and rest—and try to avoid any stress or excitement. Can you do that for me?”
Grey grabbed the doctor’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you. I’ll try.”
Suddenly two cell phones buzzed at once. Neither of them belonged to the hospital staff.
Holmes checked his phone first, then Poe checked his. They looked at each other and held up their screens.
Same text. All caps.
WHERE THE HELL IS MY WIFE?
CHAPTER 43
THE NEXT MORNING, Marple was feeling more guilty than ever about being in class. Guilty about not being at the hospital the day before. But she knew Helene Grey had plenty of people looking after her back at the lodge. Poe, Holmes, and Virginia—not to mention the FBI agents.
The night before, Edwards had assured the team that every dam and power station in the United States was now on high alert, and that Oliver Paul had been moved to the top of the Bureau’s Most Wanted list.
But now, as Marple stood with her fellow students, Mandi, Stacy, and Lisa, on one side of the prep table at La Forêt, she did her best to put all that out of her mind. Focus! All four of the women were nervous and ready, aprons on, waiting for the instructors to show up.
Gabrielle Desan arrived first, as always. But today she came in through the back door, wearing a parka and rubber boots. Margaret noticed that her boots were muddy and flecked with straw. Odd. Too early in the season for gardening.
