“Who is she?” I whispered when we were out in the hall, the door to the room easing shut.

“Rose,” Stella said at full volume, pulling her chic cranberry-hued cardigan closed. Her saying the woman’s name a second time did not make it more familiar. “I’m telling you, Molly. There’s definitely something weird going on here. First they said they needed to wait for more test results; now they’re saying there’s some problem with Rose’s insurance. And that’s definitely not true, because she’s still on her parents’ insurance. It’s the one thing they help her with. Anyway, Rose called and checked. Her insurance is fine. The hospital is making up one excuse after another.”

“But Stella, who is Rose to you?”

“Oh, Rose cleans my house.” Stella looked confused and maybe a tiny bit appalled. “You have met her, Molly. Don’t you remember?”

Now that Stella mentioned it, I did have a vague recollection of one occasion, right after Stella and I had met, when I’d been at her house and her cleaning woman had passed through the kitchen. Stella had told me about her afterward in hushed tones—a straight-A psychology student at Ridgedale University, planning to work with autistic children like her younger brother, until her parents cut her off financially and she had to drop out of school. Criminal, according to Stella. Absolutely criminal.

The story had not surprised me. Most people Stella knew came with some kind of hard-luck history—even me.

“I didn’t recognize her with the bruising,” I lied.

“I know,” Stella said, making a disgusted face. “Horrible, isn’t it? She’s in agony, too, the poor thing. And she won’t take any pain medicine because she’s one of those crazy all-natural types. You know, raw food, meditation. Especially now, with the nursing, she’s definitely not taking anything.”

The nursing. There was a pull in the pit of my stomach. For some insane, incompetent reason, they will not discharge her. Surely the police had alerted the hospital to be on the lookout for mothers of missing babies.

“Rose has a baby?”

“Yeah, just had a baby three weeks ago,” Stella said. “She shouldn’t be back working. But I guess that’s what happens to people on the margins. Her parents are such assholes.”

Rose hadn’t been visibly pregnant when I’d seen her, but that had been nearly six months ago.

“Stella, where is Rose’s baby?”

“What do you mean, where is her—” I watched the lightbulb finally go on for her. “Oh my God. They think it’s her baby they found?”

“I’m assuming,” I said. “It would explain why they’re not letting her go.”

“That’s insane.” Stella crossed her arms, but she didn’t sound that sure. “I mean, I’m sure Rose’s baby is at her apartment.”

With whom? A nanny? How many “people on the margins” could afford that? It didn’t sound like Rose had family helping her out, and it wasn’t like Ridgedale was overflowing with affordable day care options. Most people in Ridgedale didn’t need affordable.

Before I could press Stella on this substantial hole in her theory, a doctor came up, pausing to grab the chart outside Rose’s door. He had a full head of thick gray hair and large glasses that obscured his eyes. He was trying hard not to make eye contact with us, as though by not seeing us, he could make it so we weren’t seeing him.

“Oh, hi,” Stella said, stepping into his path. “Did you just come on shift?”

“Yes,” he said, but not very pleasantly. His eyes stayed locked on Rose’s chart.

“We’re friends of Rose’s. Well, technically, she works for me,” Stella said. “And Molly is a reporter with the Ridgedale Reader.”

And there went Stella, doing whatever she wanted. Not that I thought this doctor would be bothered by an implied threat about my cutting investigative journalism. Except, from the way his eyes shot up from Rose’s file, it appeared he did care.

“A reporter, huh?” he said unpleasantly. “You’ll need to talk to the communications office if you’re looking for a comment.”

A comment? There was some kind of story, then. Because he’d seemed awfully prepared with that retort. As though he’d already been briefed about reporters turning up. Even in Ridgedale, that didn’t happen for routine traffic accidents.

“It’s quite simple,” Stella began, calm but firm. “Rose wants to leave right now. And there’s no earthly reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to. Discharge her immediately, or Molly here will be stuck hanging around the hospital, and who knows what kind of stories will catch her eye. Didn’t you just have another case of MRSA after that boy lost his hand last year?”

I turned and glared at Stella. This was so her—unsure of Rose’s innocence and yet willing to throw herself (and me) headlong into the fray. The doctor was glaring at me through his big glasses. I smiled as he pushed open the door to Rose’s room.

“A MRSA story, huh?” he asked. “And your paper approves of this sort of thing? Extortion?”

I just stared at him and kept on smiling. There wasn’t much else I could do. That was exactly what Stella had been suggesting. I just had to hope that he wouldn’t report back to Erik. If Erik had questioned the ethics of my allowing Steve to dictate our reporting, I could only imagine how he’d feel about extortion. Finally, the doctor shook his head in disgust and stepped inside Rose’s room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

As soon as he was gone, I turned wide-eyed to Stella, waiting for her to apologize. She was staring at Rose’s door, oblivious. “Maybe the father of Rose’s baby had something to do with what happened. I mean, if something happened to her baby, which I’m not conceding.”

“What are you talking about, Stella?”

“Rose told me how she got pregnant. Not the specifics. And she didn’t use the word ‘rape,’ but it sounded to me like that’s what it was.”

“Who’s the father?”

“I don’t know. A university student, I assume. An entitled asshole, no doubt. And you know how universities like Ridgedale can be. Cover up first, ask questions never.” Stella shook her head. “Rose was so excited for the baby, though, despite how she’d gotten pregnant.” When Stella looked at me, her eyes were wide and shiny. “I’m telling you, none of this makes any sense, Molly. No sense at all.”

RIDGEDALE READER

ONLINE EDITION

March 17, 2015, 10:25 a.m.

Update: Unidentified Female Infant Found Near Essex Bridge

BY MOLLY SANDERSON

Police have confirmed that the unidentified body found on campus property beneath the Essex Bridge is that of a female infant.

According to police sources, the infant appears to be approximately newborn. However, the infant’s age cannot be confirmed until the findings of the medical examiner are released. The cause of death at this time is also unknown.

Chief of Police Steve Carlson has asked that anyone with information relating to the identity of the infant or her parents please contact the Ridgedale Police Department at 888-526-1899.

There have been only two murders in Ridgedale in the past twenty years. In 2001, Esther Gleason shot her husband in an incident determined to be self-defense. Five years later, a man was fatally shot during a drug transaction in an off-campus apartment. The Essex Bridge was the location of another death twenty years ago. Simon Barton, a Ridgedale High School senior, died of brain trauma when he slipped and fell at a graduation party. Alcohol was a suspected contributing factor.

COMMENTS:

sarahssutton

4 hours ago

Oh my God, I am so sad for that poor little baby! She was left outside? Who would do something like that? It’s disgusting. There are so many people here who would be more than willing to care for an unwanted child. It just breaks my heart.