Hush Little Baby

by Jennifer Rebecca

  “Yes,” I answer. “I already told Lee, and the results from the state lab are in my office.”

  My body flushes hot, too, too hot. I’m burning up. I’m on fire.

  “You stupid fool!” she screams. “I can’t believe you let your cock ruin my plan. It was perfect!”

  “We can still win, Mother,” he says. “There’s still time.”

  “Yes,” she says coolly. “There’s still time.”

  And then she pulls a small gun from her pocket and shoots her son dead.

  I flit my eyes around, but my mouth won’t work anymore. I want to scream, but I can’t. Oh my God. There is no one left to save me. I can only pray now that my baby lives a happy life. That’s all I ever wanted.

  I feel a tear slide down my cheek and into my hair. It’s weird. It’s like it’s there but not. No doubt the effects of atropine poisoning. I watch as she slips out several baby blankets and lays them on top of the small duffle bag she was carrying. And then she pulls a scalpel from a small protective sheath. It gleams in the lights of the room.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “You shouldn’t feel a thing.”

  And then I watch helplessly as she places the tip of the scalpel to my skin and slowly draws an evil smile. I want to watch my child be born, but as my blood starts to bead up and then roll down one by one, I start to feel a little fuzzy. I don’t know whether to hang on and fight or drift off into painless oblivion.

  I gasp, my breaths coming faster and faster as she rocks and pulls at my body to wiggle my tiny baby out.

  “Emma!” we both hear Lee shout. “Emma! Are you in there?”

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut,” she whispers harshly, and it doesn’t matter, because I can’t. My mouth is frozen, and my voice is nowhere to be found.

  She pulls harder and faster at my body again and again, and then I feel a sense of being… empty.

  I’m empty. There is nothing left to me, and as I watch Madame Driskill pull my tiny baby all covered in goo up and wraps her in the pink baby blankets as the room turns to mist and swirls all around me.

  I hear Lee’s key in the lock and sirens in the distance.

  And then she scoops up my baby and races up the stairs just before the front door bursts open and Lee is there. Thank God, he’s there.

  I open my mouth to tell him that he needs to save her. He has to save our daughter. But I’m not sure if I get the words out, because the lights dim to black.

  And then I die.

  I am no more.

  I’m just… empty.

  TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED

  LIAM

  I stomp my foot down on the gas and flip on the lights and sirens as I race back to Emma and hope I’m not too late.

  Please, God, don’t let me be too late.

  And I cannot fucking believe it was that sick fuck the whole fucking time. I am so fucking stupid. I was so blinded by my jealousy and so deep in my own misery that I didn’t push it. I knew there was something off about him, but I chalked it up to him getting the girl that I was totally and hopelessly gone for. Nothing more.

  But it was so fucking much more. I should have seen it was so much more.

  And I call. The whole time I drive, I dial her number over and over. And every time, it rings and rings, and then I get her voicemail message. Again. I don’t bother leaving messages anymore; I just hang up and dial again. And again and again. But still nothing.

  Finally, I pull into the driveway and throw my truck in park before I’m leaping from the vehicle and shouting down the neighborhood while I race up the lawn and straight to the front door.

  “Emma!” I shout as I struggle to get my dad’s keys to separate, my fingers shaking so bad. Thank God I gave my dad a key to my house. “Emma! Are you in there?”

  And then I finally get the front door open, and the first thing I notice is… blood.

  There’s so much fucking blood. The stuff is everywhere. Dark-red and sticky, it seeps down like fingers reaching for more. It’s like a monster in the night seeking another victim. I haven’t seen this much blood and carnage since the last time I was in the desert.

  Hell, even Anna’s death wasn’t this gruesome.

  I rush toward her and drop to my knees. I need to staunch the flow, but there is so much. I’m not sure where to start or how. I pull my cell phone out of my pants pocket and dial dispatch.

  “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher answers. I don’t have time to listen for who it is.

  Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ, don’t let her be dead.

  “This is Captain Goodnite, and I need an ambulance at 1431 Poinsettia Drive,” I bark into my phone. “It’s an emergency.”

  She’s not dead yet. Her eyes blink open at the sound of my voice and then flit around wildly. There is a shock to this kind of trauma. I have seen men on the battlefield not realize they were mortally wounded or missing limbs. Please don’t let her fucking die.

  “Hang in there,” I command her and hope to fuck that for once in her life she listens to me. “It’s going to be okay.” I just hope I can back up those claims.

  Today was supposed to be such a simple day. Lunch with my sister so she doesn’t drive her husband to homicide and then a quiet dinner at home with my girl. When Claire’s contractions at the restaurant ended in an ambulance ride and emergency surgery, I should have known better.

  I spent the afternoon and earlier part of the evening at the hospital. Until I had this weird feeling something was wrong. It’s been a long fucking time since I had a gut check. Those instincts saved me more than a few times on missions. Finally, when I could barely stand it, Wes gave me the all-clear on my sister and her kids, so I rushed home.

  Fuck me. There’s so much blood. My heart pounds in my chest, and I swallow back against the desert that has invaded my mouth. She’s still bleeding. I have to stop the bleeding. I cross my arms over my abs and whip my T-shirt over my head. I press it to the wound that gapes open like a gruesome smile. They didn’t even try to stitch her up.

  Her blood is wicking up through my shirt by the time I see the blue-and-red lights flashing on the wall of my living room. She should have been sitting on the sofa in her sweatpants and watching The Real Housewives of Something Stupid. She loves those dumb fucking reality shows almost as much as I love to tease her about them.

  There’s a knock at the door. Thank Christ.

  “We’re in here,” I call out.

  “What do we have?” one of the paramedics asks me as they roll in a gurney.

  “Another baby-snatcher victim,” I answer.

  “Then you need the ME, not us,” his partner says.

  “This is the medical examiner,” I inform them. “And she’s still alive.”

  “Fuck,” one of them bites out.

  “L-Lee,” she rasps and licks her dry lips. Her beautiful blue eyes blink and flit all around.

  “I’m right here, baby,” I say as I hold her hand in mine.

  “I-i-it was—” she starts before her eyes roll back in her head and her whole body begins to shake.

  “She’s coding!” one of the paramedics shouts.

  “Sir!” the other one barks at me as he tries to push me away from her body. “Sir, you have to get back.”

  I scoot back a foot or two so they can work, and I draw my knees up to my chest. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up into the understanding eyes of Detective Jones. He thinks she’s going to die, but I haven’t come this far to give up now.

  She can’t die on me. I just got her back in my life, got to feel the warmth of her skin pressed against mine, the sounds of her laughter, the sight of her in my house, and the dreams of a future. A future that, as I take in the scene around me, is starting to go missing.

  As they work on Emma and prepare her to transport to the hospital, their voices carry as the two paramedics shout to each other what they need
to keep her breathing. It’s faint at first. Somewhere deep in the back of my house, I hear a baby cry.

  “Captain!” Jones shouts as I jump up.

  Christ. Fucking Christ. She’s still here. The baby is still here.

  I reach for my ankle holster and slip my drop gun free. I hold it loose at my side as I race up the stairs. There’s not much but the kitchen and laundry room at the back of the first floor, so I know she has to be hiding with the baby—my baby—up here.

  I clear doorways, one by one, just like we were taught so many years ago in the navy. That SEAL training never really leaves you, especially when it’s compounded with police training.

  My office is empty and dark.

  Same with our bedroom and the bathroom off the hall.

  She wouldn’t.

  It can’t be.

  But as I push open the door to the room that Wes and I worked our asses off to transform into Emma’s dream nursery for her baby, the perfect room for my princess, I see it’s exactly that. It’s my worst nightmare. A wolf in sheep’s clothing is sitting in the rocker I bought for my woman to rock our child in, and she’s holding a very tiny bundle wrapped up in pink blankets. But this baby was born too soon and will likely need medical attention as well. I need to get to her and fast. But I still have to be careful.

  “Hello, Captain Goodnite,” the older woman greets me, and I realize she’s the woman who ran the adoption agency, the same one who was pressing Emma to give up her baby. The very same one Emma’s ex was trying to strong arm her into giving the baby to.

  “Hello, Madame Driskill,” I say coolly. “Please hand over my daughter.”

  “Not so fast,” she says as she raises a gun when I take a step toward where she sits holding my baby.

  “You can go,” I lie to her. “Just hand me my daughter and walk out of this room.”

  “She won’t survive, you know,” she says casually. “They all die.”

  “Like your son?” I ask, hoping I can distract her, but she still aims her gun at my child. I raise mine to her, and we take our places in a terrifying standoff.

  “He made a stupid mistake.”

  “And that mistake will cost you.”

  “It already has,” she snaps. “Do you think I’m going to get out of here alive?”

  “You can,” I tell her. She might get the gas chamber once a jury gets wind of all she’s done, but I’m not going to mention that right now. “Just don’t take my daughter with you.”

  “I should,” she says, and I feel my whole body go still. “You deserve it for ruining my entire operation. But now, Captain Goodnite, you have to make a choice.”

  “What choice?” I bite out. I’m barely breathing, barely hanging on. Emma is downstairs fighting for her life, and one false move and this monster will take my child too.

  “You could shoot me or…” she trails off. She’s baiting me into having this insane conversation, and we both know it.

  “Or what?”

  “Catch,” she says, and then my heart stops fucking beating as she tosses the tiny bundle of pink blankets that is my daughter high up into the air so that I have to drop my weapon in order to catch her, and I do not even hesitate for one fucking second before I let my gun clatter to the floor, hoping against all fucking hope that this isn’t a trap to kill us both.

  I watch helplessly as the woman raises the gun to her temple when I leap for the tiny bundle. She winks at me with a smile on her face.

  “It was a good run.” And then she pulls the trigger.

  The gunshot echoes through the room.

  Jones and other officers storm upstairs and take in the scene.

  “It’s over,” he says to me, but I just nod and then run out of the room, because I have to get to Emma.

  I race down the stairs and catch the paramedics as they load her up into the back of the ambulance, and I jump in after her with our baby in my arms, taking both paramedics by surprise.

  “Let’s go!” the one in the back shouts to the driver as he slams the doors closed on us, and I hand over my most precious bundle for him to look over.

  He cleans her up and suctions her mouth and nose, but her color looks good and she’s breathing on her own. That’s about all I remember from the last baby I delivered while on duty.

  “She looks good,” he whispers before handing her back to me to hold. I don’t know if it’s because he sees I’m hanging on to my last fucking thread or because he needs to keep an eye on Emma, or maybe even a little bit of both. I’m just glad to have her back in my arms. “We’ll have her looked over at the hospital.”

  “Thank you.”

  He just nods, and we sit in silence and listen to the beeps of the monitor as we ride to the hospital. And once we arrive, Emma is whisked into the operating room, and I don’t even get the chance to kiss her one last time.

  I hope it’s not goodbye.

  And the baby and I are escorted to the neonatal intensive care unit, where the attending pediatrician comes in, looking a little shell-shocked. Her face is pale in contrast to her pink scrubs with smiley faces all over them. Someone must have briefed her on the nature of this child’s delivery into the world.

  The windows Lee and I stood at earlier are once again covered so that just anyone can’t see in. The room is empty other than the two nurses looking after the little bundles in the corner, one pink and one blue; otherwise, all of the little glass bassinets are empty. Those must be my sister’s kids.

  “She looks good, but we’re going to need to keep her for observation just to make sure her little lungs are up to speed,” the doctor says to me. “I’m going to give her a steroid shot that will boost them up a bit more.”

  “Okay,” I say, but I mean, what else can I do? I’m just so fucking helpless.

  “There are only two other babies here right now,” she says. “So she’ll have our mostly undivided attention.”

  “Are those the O’Connell twins?” I ask as I look back to the pink and blue bundles.

  “Yes,” she says, tipping her head to the side in an attractive manner as she eyes me. “How did you know?”

  “Their mom is my sister,” I answer.

  “Three babies in one day,” she says surprised. “What a big day for your parents, who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

  “I was wondering…” I trail off.

  “Yes?”

  “Could she… the baby I mean… be with her cousins when I can’t be with her?” I ask. “I want her to be near family.”

  “I think that sounds fair, since they all had such a harrowing day,” she says. “Now, we do need you out for a bit. Visiting hours resume in two hours here in the NICU, or we can have her brought to you when you’re settled. That reminds me, did you all have a name for her?”

  “I… uhh… we—” I stammer, and she must see the pain and fear etched across my face, because she interrupts quickly.

  “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not, but it will be,” she assures. “And besides, there’s no rush on these things. You have plenty of time to decide on a name.”

  “I wanted…” I have to clear my throat to get the words out. “I want her mom and me to decide together.”

  “That’s lovely,” she says.

  “I should go see if my family is still around.”

  “They are, and I’ve been told they’re waiting for you,” she informs me. “She’ll be in good hands. You have my promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  And then I walk out of the NICU and back to the waiting room to wait for news on Emma with my family. Everyone is still there. Even Wes makes an appearance when he hears I’m back.

  But it isn’t until my dad folds me into his arms that I fucking lose it, and I cry like a little baby, because Emma is everything I ever wanted, and if I lose her and our baby, what do I have left?

  • • •

  Eyes.

  The smell
of sulfur fills my nostrils, and smoke sears my lungs. The heavy weight of the rifle in my hands is like second nature to me. I could carry it in my sleep. During training, I probably did.

  But it’s the eyes that chill me to the bone in the middle of this hot desert.

  I don’t know how the intel had gone so bad. I know it happens, but not like this. One minute, the mission was going to plan, and the next, the world exploded. Spurts of gunfire can be heard all around me, but it’s the screams that ring in my ears.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I hear Adams scream through the comms in my ear. “They’re dead. They’re all dead.”

  And he’s right. They’re all dead. Every last one of them. I was helpless to prevent this, and still I feel like I should have. It’s as bad is if their blood were directly on my hands.

  I make my way through the village we’ve been watching, my heart in my throat. Buildings, homes, the carts in the market, they’re all gone, burned-out shells of what they were before. And bodies crumpled where they fell. Men, women, children—death does not discriminate. Their eyes are vacant after life left them.

  If eyes are the windows to the soul, then this is a portal to hell as I look at the faces of each person who should not have died. A child we gave a candy bar to yesterday, an old lady who offered coffee in the market, and a beautiful young woman whose belly was swollen with a baby.

  Her dark eyes watch me, haunt me, as she sees me and nothing at all. And then they change to Emma’s blue ones, her belly cut open, and our baby is just… gone.

  The smoke burns my throat as I see Emma’s blonde-and-pink hair, her blue eyes open and watching me, her beautiful body mutilated, because I was in her life.

  “No!” I shout.

  But the eyes of the dead scream that this is all my fault.

  I should have known.

  This is all my fault.

  And now she’s dead too.

  • • •

  My breath seizes in my lungs as I come awake with a start.

  It was just a dream, a bad dream. A horrible fucking dream. One that I think will be with me for the rest of my life.