Cradle of Lies

Missing

The police arrived within twenty minutes. Two detectives, a man and a woman, both with badges clipped to their belts and expressions Maya couldn’t read.

“Ms. Martinez, I’m Detective Mills and this is Detective Chen.” The woman spoke first, her voice professional but not unkind. “We need to ask you some questions about last night.”

Maya nodded numbly. She’d pulled herself together enough to stop crying, but barely. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating with panic. “Have you found her? Have you found Andrea?”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Detective Mills said, which wasn’t an answer. “Can you walk us through exactly what happened last night after you gave birth?”

“I—” Maya tried to organize her thoughts, but everything felt fragmented. “I had her around nine, I think. They put her on my chest right away. We had maybe ten minutes together, and then they took her to clean her up and do tests.”

“Who took her?”

“The nurses. I don’t know their names. There were so many people.”

Detective Chen was writing in a small notebook. “And then what happened?”

“They brought her back. Let me hold her for a little while longer. And then—” Maya’s voice cracked. “They said they were taking her to the nursery so I could sleep. That they’d bring her back in a few hours for feeding.”

“Who said that?”

“A nurse. Blonde hair, younger. I don’t remember her name.”

“What time was this?”

“Late. Eleven? Midnight? I don’t know exactly. I was so tired.”

“And how did they take the baby?” Detective Mills asked. “In your arms? In a bassinet?”

“In the bassinet. They wheeled her out.” Maya could see it in her mind—the blonde nurse closing the curtain for privacy, the soft squeak of wheels on linoleum, the door clicking shut.

Detective Chen looked up from her notebook. “They wheeled her out in a bassinet?”

“Yes. The one they brought her back in after cleaning her.”

The detectives exchanged a glance that made Maya’s stomach twist. Detective Mills walked to the corner of the room and gestured to a small plastic bassinet sitting there, empty.

“Is this your bassinet, Ms. Martinez?”

Maya stared at it. “I—I don’t know. Maybe? They all look the same.”

“According to the hospital, this is the only bassinet that was assigned to your room. It never left.”

Maya’s mouth went dry. “That’s not possible. I saw them wheel her out. I heard the wheels.”

“Are you certain about that?” Mills pressed gently. “You were exhausted, you’d just been through labor. Is it possible you heard something else? Someone else’s baby being moved?”

“No. They took Andrea. In the bassinet. I’m sure.” But even as she said it, doubt crept in. Had she actually seen the bassinet leave? The curtain had been closed. She’d heard wheels, heard the door—but had she seen?

“Ms. Martinez,” Detective Mills said carefully. “We’ve reviewed the security footage from the nursery. Your daughter never arrived there.”

Maya stared at him. “What?”

“The nurses have no record of Andrea Martinez being admitted to the nursery last night. According to our footage, no one brought a baby matching her description to that area.”

“That’s not—that’s not possible. They took her. I saw them—” Maya stopped. Had she seen? Or had she just assumed?

“We believe you,” Detective Chen said. “But somewhere between your room and the nursery, your daughter disappeared.”

Disappeared. Like she’d just vanished into thin air.

“I don’t understand.” Maya felt like she was underwater, everything muffled and distorted. “How does a baby just disappear from a hospital?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Detective Mills moved closer to the bed. “I need to ask you some difficult questions now, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anyone who might want to take your baby? The father, maybe? Family members?”

“No. Carlos didn’t want anything to do with her. He made that very clear.” Maya’s hands were shaking. “And my family—I don’t have family. Not anymore.”

“Friends? Anyone you’ve talked to about the baby?”

“No one.” Maya felt the weight of that word. No one. She’d been completely alone through all of this. “I moved here six months ago. I don’t really know anyone.”

“What about adoption?” Detective Chen’s voice was gentle. “Had you considered giving her up? Maybe talked to anyone about that?”

“No. I mean, I thought about it early on, but—” Maya’s throat tightened. “Once I felt her move, once she was real, I couldn’t. She’s mine. I was going to keep her.”

Detective Mills pulled up a chair. “Maya, I need you to think very carefully. Last night, after you gave birth—you were exhausted, emotional, maybe overwhelmed. Is there any possibility you gave your baby to someone? Maybe someone offered to help and you don’t remember clearly?”

“No!” The word came out sharp, angry. “No, I didn’t give her to anyone. The nurses took her. They said they were taking her to the nursery.”

“But you were very tired,” Mills pressed. “You’d just been through labor. Post-partum confusion is a real thing. You might not remember everything that happened—”

“I remember.” Maya’s voice was shaking now. “I remember holding her. I remember them saying they’d bring her back. I remember falling asleep waiting for her. I didn’t give her away. Someone took her.”

“You said you were scared,” Detective Chen said, reading from her notes. “That you didn’t know how to be a mom. That you couldn’t do this.”

Maya’s blood ran cold. “I said that during labor. Everyone says things like that during labor. It doesn’t mean—”

“But you did say it.”

“Yes, but—” Maya’s voice broke. “But then I held her. And I knew I could do it. I knew I wanted her. She’s mine. Someone took her from me.”

The detectives were quiet for a moment. Maya could see it in their eyes—they didn’t believe her. Or they thought she was confused. Or worse, they thought she’d done something to her own baby.

“You think I did something to her.” Maya’s voice came out as a whisper. “You think I hurt her.”

“We don’t think anything yet,” Detective Chen said. “But we have to investigate all possibilities. You understand that, right?”

“I want my baby back.” Tears were streaming down Maya’s face again. “Please. I just want Andrea back. She’s only hours old. She needs me. She needs her mama.”

“We’re going to need to search your things,” Mills said, gesturing to the small overnight bag Maya had brought. “And we’ll need you to stay in this room. Don’t leave, don’t make any phone calls we don’t know about. Can you do that?”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No. But you’re a person of interest in an active investigation. We need you to cooperate fully.”

They went through her bag while she watched—the few clothes she’d brought, her toothbrush, her wallet with its eighteen dollars in cash. They bagged her phone, said they’d need to check her messages and calls.

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Maya said. “I just want my daughter back.”

“Then you won’t mind if we keep this for now,” Mills said, holding up her phone.

After they left, a uniformed officer took position outside her door. Maya could see him through the small window, could see the way other staff looked at her room as they passed. Everyone knew. Everyone thought she’d done something.

A different nurse came in—older, with gray streaks in her dark hair and kind eyes that held too much pity. “Ms. Martinez, I’m so sorry about what’s happening. Can I get you anything?”

“I want my baby.” Maya’s voice was hollow.

“I know, honey. I know.” The nurse checked her vitals, adjusted her IV. “You’re still recovering from delivery. You need to rest, try to keep your strength up.”

“How can I rest? My baby is missing and everyone thinks I did something to her.”

The nurse didn’t contradict her, which was somehow worse than if she had.

After she left, Maya was alone with the silence and the empty bassinet in the corner—the bassinet that apparently never left, even though Maya could have sworn she’d heard it rolling away. The growing certainty that no one was actually looking for Andrea settled over her like a weight. They were too busy looking at her, the nineteen-year-old girl with no family and no support system and a history of saying she didn’t know if she could do this.

Hours passed. Different nurses came and went. A doctor checked her, said everything looked fine physically, which was such a cruel joke Maya almost laughed. Nothing was fine. Nothing would ever be fine again.

Detective Chen came back alone in the late afternoon. “We’ve been reviewing footage from all the cameras in the maternity ward. Can you describe what the nurse who took Andrea looked like? The blonde one?”

Maya closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Young. Maybe late twenties? Blonde hair, like I said. I don’t remember her face really. I was so tired.”

“Was she wearing scrubs?”

“I—I think so? Yes. Blue scrubs maybe. I don’t know.”

“Did she tell you her name?”

“If she did, I don’t remember it.” Maya felt tears building again. “Why does it matter what she looked like? She’s a nurse. She works here. You can find her.”

“We’re trying to identify everyone who was in your room last night,” Chen said. “But so far, we haven’t found any record of a blonde nurse on duty in this ward during the time frame you’re describing.”

The room tilted. “What?”

“There were two nurses assigned to this floor last night during the hours you gave birth—a brunette and a redhead. Neither of them match your description.”

“Then who took my baby?” Maya’s voice rose. “If she wasn’t a nurse, who was she?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Detective Chen’s expression was unreadable. “The hospital is reviewing all badge access from last night. Anyone who entered this ward, whether staff or visitor. We’ll find out who was here.”

After she left, Maya lay back and stared at the ceiling. Someone had walked into her room, dressed as a nurse, and taken her baby. And everyone—the police, the hospital, probably the whole city by now—thought Maya had either given Andrea away or hurt her or was so confused from exhaustion that she couldn’t remember what really happened.

Her phone was gone, so she couldn’t check social media, couldn’t see if anyone was actually looking for Andrea or if they were all too busy speculating about the teenage mother who’d lost her baby within hours of giving birth.

The afternoon turned to evening. They brought her dinner on a tray but Maya couldn’t eat. Her body ached, her breasts were starting to hurt with milk coming in for a baby who wasn’t there to drink it, and every sound in the hallway made her heart race thinking maybe, maybe they’d found her.

But no one came with good news.

Just more questions. More suspicious looks. More pity from nurses who probably went home and told their families about the sad girl in room 307 who’d somehow lost her baby.

As the sun set and the room darkened, Maya pressed her hand to her empty stomach and tried to remember what Andrea’s weight had felt like in her arms. Tried to remember her smell, her tiny sounds, the way her fingers had curled around Maya’s thumb.

She’d held her daughter for less than an hour total.

And now she might never hold her again.