Eve stood there, waiting, knowing that Anna was stalling for time, trying to figure out what story to tell. That was fine. She wanted to hear it.
After a few moments, Anna got a hold of herself, or at least settled on her story, and looked up at Eve.
“My husband, Jeff, wants a family so much and if I can’t have a child, he’ll leave me. That’s why he left his first wife. We keep trying to get pregnant, but it’s not working. I love him. I don’t want to lose him or our wonderful life together.”
Including, perhaps, her right to stay in the United States, Eve thought. A divorce without a child might mean a one-way plane ticket back to Germany or Romania.
“I saw all the junk food in your dining room. You were fattening yourself up to fake a pregnancy, weren’t you?”
“I had to. If I wasn’t showing, even a little, he’d suspect something. I just wanted more time to get pregnant for real. But it didn’t happen, and he was traveling so much . . .”
“Time was running out, so you found another solution. You got a baby from someone else.”
Anna shook her head. “No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Who is the mother?”
“I don’t know—”
Eve stepped closer to her, invading her space. “Where is she?”
Anna leaned away. “I never saw her.”
“Then where did the baby come from?”
“It was a gift from God!” Anna yelled, loud enough for people to hear outside the room.
Eve took a step back and regarded her with undisguised skepticism. “You’re saying it just magically appeared in your living room?”
“I took some garbage out to the dumpster . . . and the baby was there, wrapped in the blanket . . . a little boy, just like Jeff wanted . . . it was like a miracle . . . like God had answered my prayers. I brought the baby inside, cleaned him up . . . but he wasn’t breathing. He was dead.”
“But you called 911 and went through the charade of doing CPR anyway,” Eve said. “Why?”
“I thought about putting the baby back in the dumpster and saying nothing, but I couldn’t treat him like he was trash. What if the contractor found the baby? What would he think? I was afraid nobody would believe I had nothing to do with it.”
Eve certainly didn’t. “More importantly, you also realized that faking a stillbirth would get you off the hook with your husband, at least for a while.”
Anna nodded and gave Eve a heartfelt, pleading look. “Does Jeff have to know the baby wasn’t mine?”
Eve took the pair of handcuffs off her belt and snapped one loop on Anna’s left wrist and the other to the rail of the gurney.
“What are you doing?” Anna stared at the cuffs in disbelief. “You said I wasn’t under arrest.”
“You aren’t. I’m restraining you.”
“What for? Do you think I want to hurt you?”
“It’s so you can’t hurt yourself again. You’re being held for psychiatric evaluation.”
“I told you the truth. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not the one who threw a baby in my trash.”
“You’ll be out in three days,” Eve said, “unless they decide to commit you for treatment.”
Anna yanked at her cuffs. “You can’t do this to me.”
Eve walked out of the room. Lisa was waiting outside the door and had clearly heard every word.
Lisa asked, “What happens if she calls a lawyer?”
“She won’t. She wants to keep this from her husband. But even if she does bring in a lawyer, the 5150 will hold.”
Eve had no experience to justify that certainty and hoped that her sister couldn’t see through her false confidence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eve’s phone rang as she got into her car. It was Emilia Lopez.
“I’ve discovered some irregularities that raise questions about the circumstances of the baby’s death,” Lopez said. “I’ve suspended my autopsy until you’re present and a crime scene technician arrives to collect evidence.”
“I’ve discovered some irregularities, too,” Eve said, and shared with her everything that had happened and what she’d learned.
“That makes a lot of sense and is consistent with my initial findings.”
“Which are?”
“I’ll see you soon, Detective.” Lopez ended the call.
Soon was optimistic, Eve thought. The county medical examiner-coroner’s office was in Boyle Heights, on the grounds of the LAC-USC Medical Center, a few miles northeast of downtown Los Angeles, and getting there now, right in the middle of rush hour, could take her ninety minutes or more if there were no accidents along the way.