Carbon Copies

Excerpt from

Carbon Copies

Prologue

Abducting a newborn topped Hilda’s agenda. At midnight, the nurse entered the birthing suite at Miami’s Mercy Hospital where Chelsea and her birth mother bonded. Hilda smirked. How sweet?

“Excuse me, Mrs. Cameron, I’m here to take your blood pressure.” Hilda approached the patient’s bed.

“I’m so sick of you waking me up all of the time,” Chelsea’s mother whined.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Cameron, but I’m just doing my job.” Hilda rolled her eyes behind this rude mother’s back. But it made Hilda’s upcoming task much easier. She quickly learned the necessity of distancing herself from her emotions and stopped giving a rat’s ass about the patients a long time ago.

“Well, how about you do your job and fetch my pain medication. I’m sore and exhausted,” the cranky new mother barked.

“I have just what you need. This should help you sleep.” Hilda handed a tiny container of white pills to Mrs. Cameron and poured her a glass of water.

“This won’t affect my breast milk, will it? I know my milk hasn’t come in yet, but I plan on nursing my precious Chelsea.” She took the offered water and pills.

“I assure you, Mrs. Cameron, Chelsea will be just fine. I’ll change her diaper for you,” Hilda said.

“Thank you, I appreciate the gesture. My husband, that useless piece of shit, went home to sleep. Can you believe his audacity?” Mrs. Cameron vented.

Nodding sympathetically, she knew that most new mothers grew cranky due to the abrupt change in their hormone levels. Everyone and everything pricked their nerves, and they abhorred their useless, piece-of-crap husbands. Many referred to this as the ‘I hate you’ phase.

Relieved about the absence of Chelsea’s father, she turned her back to the birth mother and approached Chelsea’s bassinet. Hilda’s wide girth obstructed Mrs. Cameron’s view of the baby. Hilda gazed upon the tiny, helpless newborn, a Carbon Copy of the last newborn she abducted.

She transitioned this baby the night before. Shortly after birth, babies go to the nursery for washing, weighing, measuring and testing. When Hilda fastened the security tags on the baby’s wrist and ankle, she intentionally left the tags looser than normal.

Hilda grabbed a diaper and baby wipes from underneath the bassinet. Before she removed the soiled diaper, Hilda slowly removed a tiny medicine dropper from her sweater pocket. She administered several drops of liquid into Chelsea’s tiny mouth. This baby will sleep well tonight, too.

She slid off Chelsea’s security tags, wrapped them in the dirty diaper and tossed the soiled diaper and tags into the trash can. After wiping Chelsea’s bottom, Hilda put a fresh diaper on the baby and tightly wrapped the baby girl in a blanket. Chelsea now resembled a large burrito.

“Sleep well, Mrs. Cameron. I’ll see you in the morning.” Hilda turned to Chelsea’s mother, who had already fallen asleep.

Hilda unbuttoned her sweater to reveal a baby sling. Picking up Chelsea, she gently placed her in the sling, buttoned her sweater and studied her reflection in the mirror.

Perfect.

Her sturdy frame and overweight midsection provided perfect camouflage. No one would suspect that her wide girth and bulging sweater concealed a stolen newborn.

Hilda slowly walked down the hall and pushed the elevator button. She took out her pack of Marlboro Lights as the elevator door opened.

A young doctor exited the elevator. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he scolded.

“I know, I’ve been meaning to quit.” Hilda shrugged.

Once on the ground floor, Hilda headed toward the exit and nonchalantly stepped outside. She lit her cigarette, inhaled several puffs and looked up towards the sky. She meandered around the side of the building, just out of range of the security cameras.

“You got a light, Hilda?” a very large co-worker named Pauly asked as he placed his own cigarette between his eager lips.

“Sure,” Hilda retrieved her lighter. “Here, let me light it for you.”

Hilda stepped close and attempted to light his cigarette, but the lighter didn’t work. “I’m sorry. This is one of those cheapo lighters which apparently does not work very well.” Hilda continued with several more failed attempts to light his cigarette.

“Take your time.” He reached under Hilda’s sweater and found the newborn tucked into the baby sling. Removing the precious cargo, he opened his coat and tucked the baby into his own sling.

Hilda finally lit his cigarette. “There we go.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It sure is getting cold out here.” He buttoned his coat.

“A rare cold snap for Miami.” Hilda puffed on the last of her cigarette.

He sucked his cigarette like an addict, then turned his head to ascertain their privacy. “Tom-Tom wants to move your operations further north.”

“I wondered about that. Winter coats in Miami raise suspicion, especially in the summer. Everyone probably thinks you’re with the Mafia.” Hilda laughed.

“I’d rather everyone think I’m just smuggling drugs and guns instead of what we’re really trafficking.” Pauly grimaced.

“Won’t Tom-Tom miss Miami’s proximity to headquarters?” Hilda referred to Baby Cay, a tiny remote island in the Florida Keys.

“Yeah, but we need to rotate you every year. Too many abductions in one place draws unwanted attention.” Pauly stomped out his cigarette. “Any place in particular you’d like to go?”

Hilda stared at the stars and contemplated. “I’ve always loved Charleston. At least that’s closer to the good doctor.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Pauley walked away with baby Chelsea Cameron carefully hidden underneath his overcoat.

Chapter One

“Holy Crap!” Charlotte shrilled, pointing at the enormous yacht anchored just off the Isle of Capri. She quickly stopped pointing, covered her mouth and braced herself for the imminent thrashing from the etiquette Nazi, also known as her German aunt—Tante Vera.

“Charlotte Angelika Krite! A well-bred young lady does not swear, point or act excited. A lady acts aloof, like brunching on a yacht off the Amalfi Coast of Italy is just another ordinary day.” Vera adjusted her aqua, silk parasol to shade her flawless ivory skin from the brutal effects of the Italian sun.

“Sorry, Tante Vera. But I’ve never seen a boat this big before. Except for the QE2 which sailed us across the pond.” Charlotte referred to Cunard’s luxurious transatlantic ocean liner, named after Queen Elizabeth II, which began their Grand Tour of Europe.

Charlotte smoothed down the skirt of her baby-blue suit which accentuated her trademark, cerulean blue eyes. A matching wide-brimmed hat covered most of her wavy, golden locks.

“I’m only hard on you because you’re our family’s last hope to make an acceptable match. I gave up on your sister, Clarice, a long time ago. While she made mud pies with the boys, you served imaginary tea and scones to your dolls.” Vera shuddered at the obvious recollection of her muddy, least favorite niece, and then said, “This must be our ride.”

A dingy approached, and its driver helped them into the boat which promptly delivered them to the yacht anchored in deeper waters. The rear of the yacht boasted large, painted calligraphy letters—SOB. Charlotte silently chuckled at the clever double entendre of the yacht’s name, besides the obvious meaning—Son of a Bitch. Being well briefed on their Charlestonian hosts, Charlotte knew the wealthy elite lived South of Broad Street and were often referred to by the locals as SOBs.

Charlotte and Vera ascended the ladder with as much grace as possible and followed the servant to the top-level deck where brunch awaited.

“Vera, darling.” A beautifully dressed woman elegantly glided towards them and exchanged air kisses with Vera.

“Ingrid, darling, you haven’t changed a bit since college.” Vera held her friend’s hand and turned to face Charlotte. “May I introduce my niece, Charlotte Angelika Krite. Charlotte, this is our hostess Ingrid Rupp Allen.”

Charlotte daintily curtsied and said, “How do you do? Thank you very much for inviting us, Frau Allen.” 

“Oh, Vera, she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Let’s introduce her to my Eddie.” Ingrid turned to scan the deck, then said, “Eddie, Lieb, kommen Sie hier und bringen Sie zwei Gläser Limoncello mit, bitte.”

“Ja, Mutter.” The German words resonated from the most handsome man Charlotte had ever seen. He grabbed two small crystal glasses filled with yellow liquid and proceeded towards them.

Charlotte studied the blond man about her age. His eyes matched her own and bored right through her with equal intensity. He handed her a glass and said, “Prost. Wilkommen Sie.”

Clinking his glass, she said, “Prost, vielen dank. Ich heiße Charlotte Krite.”

“Sprichst du auch Deutsch?” he asked.

Charlotte dropped her head with a coy blush. “Ja, aber mein Italienisch ist nicht sehr gut.”

Edward laughed hard. The kind of guttural laugh one only shares with those most familiar to him. “How cleverly modest you are. Most young ladies, whom Mother introduces me to, only brag about themselves and their noble lineage. You are a beautiful breath of fresh air. Speaking of fresh air, please join me for one of the best views in Europe.” He gestured towards the railing and then guided her by placing his hand on the small of her back.

She let him guide her to the railing to admire the breathtaking view of the Isle of Capri. “It’s so beautiful, Edward.”

“Please, call me Ed.” He smiled at her adoringly.

Goosebumps prickled her. She’d never felt this instant connection with another man before. It’s like she’d known him her entire life. Sipping her drink, she enjoyed the infusion of alcohol, then asked, “Well, Ed, what is this marvelous concoction? It tastes like lemonade mit schuss.”

“Even better than spiked lemonade. It’s Limoncello, a local specialty. Lemon peels are soaked in grain alcohol for a time, then mixed with a simple syrup. Since the unique lemons grow only in Capri, one can only properly imbibe the real thing here. In fact, my parents stocked up for our voyage home.” Ed finished his glass.

“It’s absolutely marvelous.” Finishing hers, she hoped he’d offer her another and avoid the faux pas of asking for more.

A dutiful server saved her by promptly refreshing their glasses.

“An American who speaks German and shoddy Italian. What brings you to Europe? The Grand Tour?” he asked and sipped his second glass.

“Yes, my aunt, who never had children of her own, brought me.” She sipped the lemony goodness and didn’t need any liquid courage to speak to Ed because she felt incredibly at ease with this perfect specimen of a man. How fortuitous that of all the men she’d ever met, not only did she feel completely spellbound, but also knew her family preapproved of his.

“Let me guess, she introduced you to all the noble families with high hopes of you returning home engaged to some titled foreigner,” he stated accurately.

“How did you know?” she asked incredulously.

“Because my parents just did the same thing. Only they’ve tried for years. They even sent me to the Technische Universität München. In fact, now that I graduated, my parents are taking my back to Charleston to join my father and older brother in their real estate business," Ed explained.

"We're leaving for the states tomorrow. I'll miss Europe. We enjoyed a fabulous trip." Charlotte's tone rang with melancholy. She'd met the most perfect man in the world and couldn't bear the thought of parting from him ever.

“Tonight’s your last night, too? I know just how to spend it. How about a midnight swim in the Blue Grotto?”