Her mother tossed Michael high in the air. Tory’s breath caught as he flew dangerously close to the ceiling before plummeting toward the floor. Tory prayed her mother wasn’t drunk enough to miss.
Mom caught the baby. A fingernail must have scratched him though because Michael started to cry.
Mom frowned. She thrust the baby toward Tory. Almost instantly Michael stopped crying. He chewed on Tory’s hair. She pried it from his wet fingers. He was at that stage where everything he touched went into his mouth.
The partygoers broke out the beer. Digger turned the stereo on, and loud, raunchy music filled the apartment. Nicky slammed her text books shut. Stacking them in a pile on the kitchen table, she marched to the cupboard and put the groceries away before stalking off to the bedroom. She didn’t even bother to say goodnight, not that their mother noticed. She was too busy with her friends.
Tory was ready for bed too. She walked through the living room, toting Michael in her arms when one of Mom’s friends—a skinny blonde woman, blocked her path.
“What a beautiful baby,” she said, and poked her bony fingers toward him. Tory’s arms tightened around her baby brother, but the woman didn’t try to take him from Tory’s grasp. “Vero, you never told me the baby daddy was black.”
“Hung like a bull moose,” my mother roared. She laid a kiss on Digger’s open mouth.
Tory looked away. Seeing them kiss like that was way gross. Sometimes they acted like they were married, but Tory knew that Digger was not the only guy her mom kissed. She was pretty sure Digger knew it too, but he didn’t seem to care.
“You’ve got a real way with him,” the blonde said to Tory, and she beamed.
She loved Michael. He was the only one in the whole wide world who loved her back. As long as she had him, she knew everything was going to be okay.
A few of Mom’s other friends came over and talked to the baby. He giggled when Mom played peekaboo. Digger stood next to her, so close she could smell his breath. His arm rubbed against hers, and Tory shifted away, hoping he wouldn’t notice and make a thing of it. When her mom broke out the bottle of Tequila, Tory went to bed.
She put Michael down in the playpen. He gave a cry. He wanted to play some more, but it was late and she was tired. He tried to climb out of the playpen and hooked a foot on the edge when Tory caught him. He was strong. Stubborn. She laid him down on his tummy, rubbed his back and sang a lullaby until, at last, Michael settled down.
Nicky was still reading when Tory fell asleep.
Hunger pains woke Tory from a dead sleep. Deep and clawing, she opened her eyes in the dark. It was quiet. There were groceries in the fridge. Silent as a ghost, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed across the floor.
She opened the door carefully, not wanting to wake anyone up. Mom didn’t like being woken up for any reason, especially when she was drunk. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and booze still lingered in the air. Digger and her mom were passed out on the couch. Digger snored. A few of her mother’s friends were sprawled over chairs while others curled up on the floor.
Tory picked a path around them on her way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. A wedge of light spilled across the kitchen floor. Apples, milk, cheese slices, bologna, eggs.
She really wanted scrambled eggs, but she knew that would wake the others up, so she grabbed an apple instead.
She would have liked more, maybe a slice of cheese and some bologna, but Tory knew that Nicky was right. The food had to last, so she closed the refrigerator door and snuck back through the living room without waking a soul. Quiet as she could, she closed the bedroom door.
Tory stopped by Michael’s playpen and listened for the soft sound of his breath. She heard Nicky’s snore, but nothing from Michael’s playpen.
The first stab of fear pierced her gut. She rifled through the blankets in the playpen, but Michael was nowhere to be found.
A panicked cry escaped Tory’s lips. Nicky stirred but didn’t wake as Tory’s mind raced.
Mom must have come and got him after she fell asleep. She rushed out of the bedroom to the couch where her mom was sleeping. Michael wasn’t there.
She spun around searching everywhere. Too dark to see anything more than shapes, Tory snapped on the lights, not caring if she woke everyone up.
“What the fuck . . .” her mother grumbled, but Tory ignored her, searching for her baby brother.
Then she saw something that froze her heart. The foot of the Pooh Bear sleepers.
Michael lay face down on the gold carpet.
“Michael.” Half cry, half sob, she darted toward him, she tripped over the coffee table and fell to her knees. “Michael.”
She rolled him over. He wasn’t moving. She placed her hand on his chest. So much panic filled her, she felt like she might explode. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto Michael’s face, leaving wet dots on his milk-chocolate skin.
“Michael,” she screamed again and pushed on his chest, desperate for a breath. A cry.
Something. Anything.
Everyone was awake now. Hands pulled her back. Her mother’s fingernails clawed into her arms. Tory thrashed in her grasp for all she was worth, no longer caring what happened to her. All that mattered was Michael.
“What did you do?” Mom screamed, her bloodshot eyes wild. Tory shrank back.
“He’s not breathing,” someone said.
God, no.
Tory crumpled to the floor. She screamed—an ear-splitting cry like her heart was being ripped out. Someone tried to shush her, but Tory couldn’t stop. Sobs wrenched from the very soul of her being. Even the crack of her mother’s hand across her face couldn’t make her stop.
Tory didn’t know who called the police, but suddenly they were there. Nicky sat, pale and shaken, like a lump on the end of the couch while the police asked questions. With gentle hands, one of the cops lifted Tory from the floor and sat her beside her Nicky.
“What’s your name?”
Tory refused to look at him. To answer.
“What happened to your brother?”
She shook her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t say a word. Numb, all she could do was stare at the small sheet covering Michael’s tiny body.
If only she’d woken up. If only she’d blocked the door. If only her mother hadn’t come home. If only it had been her mother who died.
All these years later, she still couldn’t remember who told her that Michael had swallowed a hit of smack. She should have known. Heroine was her mother’s drug of choice. Powerful. Cheap.
Maybe it was Nicky. Maybe it was her aunt. They went to live with her mother’s aunt in Oregon after Michael died. Her mother went to prison.
All Tory remembered was that her mother killed her baby brother. She had only gone once to see her mother. Time had ravaged her mother’s face, leaving a hard shell of a woman. She had not cried. Not even when she got the call that her mother had died. Because she knew the truth the day she sat in the prison visiting room—her mother was already dead.
Michael.
Tory had buried the memory as deep as it would go until she’d gone numb inside—afraid she might drown in the angry sea of pain that engulfed her. Therapy was a waste of time. She couldn’t talk about Michael. Denied he’d ever existed.
She and Nicky never spoke about that night. Each in their own way, they tried to forget. And she had.
Until tonight. Until she’d looked down into that baby’s face and saw her brother all over again, and knew there was no way she could let him die. Not even if it was what Xander wanted.
Tory washed down the last of the saltines with a glass of water from the tap. In the dark she padded her way down the hall and stripped off her clothes, tossing them to the floor. Inside the bathroom she turned on the shower. Steam billowed behind the white curtain, and Tory climbed inside.
The scalding hot water slid down her skin, and Tory closed her eyes, angling her face up to the s
pray. She tried to remember how Michael smelled, how his eyes lit up when he saw her.
His sweet smile.
Lost in her memories, Tory didn’t hear the apartment door open.
Chapter 28
Driving north into the city, Seth flipped on a police scanner. While some people filled the silence of their solitary hours by having music or a television running in the background, the constant flow of coded police chatter soothed Seth. After fifteen years on the force, old habits died hard. Tonight, the argument with Marissa was looping around in his head, and he needed the distraction.
He’d called her Holly. With one thoughtless slip of the tongue, he confirmed Marissa’s worst fears. He was stuck in the past. Unable to commit.
The high-powered sodium streetlights flashed overhead and cast a golden haze over the slick Seattle streets. He’d always loved this city. The familiar pattern of interwoven interchanges arched overhead. Beyond the blue and green floodlights of the Seahawks football stadium, he glimpsed the triangular peak of the Smith Tower. But tonight, not even the familiar glow of the city lights comforted him.
Work had always been a refuge—the one place he could go where things still made sense. Where he could do some good.
The police scanner squawked with a regular stream of traffic. It was a typical city night. Car prowlers. Break-ins. A domestic assault. Seth took the Dearborn exit that curved off I-5, heading toward the southern edge of the downtown core. He stopped at the top of the exit. The light was red.
He reached for the dial to turn off the scanner, and that’s when he heard the call.
A baby.
A newborn had been abandoned at a hospital, and he still had two missing pregnant women. The coincidence was too much to ignore. The Smith Tower receded in the distance as Seth headed toward Harborview.
Two SPD squad cars, lights still flashing, were parked in the ambulance bay. The sliding doors parted, and Seth stepped inside.
Hospitals smelled like pain.
Everything about them brought back agonizing memories of the night he lost Holly. Rushing into his burning house only to find he was too late. Weeks filled with skin grafts and agonizing surgeries, the physical pain he endured was nothing compared to the devastation of what came after. A black hole of grief. Learning to live without her.
Released from the hospital, he’d returned to his wreck of a home. The main part of the house was gutted. Rebuilt. But it was never the same. He was never the same.
Like the house, he was scarred. Empty. Sure, he went back to work. Solved crimes. Went through the motions of everyday life, doing his damnedest to forget. Existing.
Until he met Marissa.
And now, here he was, facing another ending.
“Fancy seeing you here, Crawford.” Seth recognized the reporter on sight. Justin Broom. He had wavy brown hair that brushed the collar of his leather jacket. Though his tortoise shell glasses were tinted sky blue, they didn’t hide the curiosity in his gaze. “You back?”
Back?
“Seen Alvarez?” Seth asked, sidestepping the question.
“There are two pregnant women missing, and now suddenly a baby gets dumped at the ER. You mean to tell me you’re not working the case?”
“The Holt Foundation is investigating both cases, but it would be irresponsible of me to link this baby to either of the missing women without evidence.”
“Spoken like a cop,” Justin grinned. He pointed toward the elevators. “Ninth floor.”
Seth spotted Alvarez talking to a young nurse dressed in green scrubs. He read her nametag. Kat. She was holding a baby in her arms.
Alvarez waved him over. Kat swayed from side to side, feeding the baby a bottle while she continued with her story.
“The emergency room was a zoo. We had seven people roll in from that major wreck on I-5. A patient in the waiting room heard him crying. He was left over by the soda machine. I thought the mother went to the bathroom or something. I mean, who would leave a baby here?”
She must be new, Seth thought. Safe haven laws were made to avoid tragic situations in which babies were abandoned in dumpsters.
Seth avoided looking at the child as more painful memories surfaced.
It was the loss of their own baby that had driven his wife to suicide. He’d known she was depressed the night of the fire, and he’d left for work anyway. Just like always.
“Did anyone see the woman with the baby carrier?” Seth asked, snapping his focus back to the nurse.
“There was so much going on, Moses himself could have carried in the stone tablets, and we wouldn’t have noticed. Unless he was on fire, of course. Or shot.”
“How many people handled the carrier before the police got here?”
“I don’t know. A few.”
Alvarez shrugged and met Seth’s gaze and Seth knew what he was thinking—they wouldn’t get any usable prints.
“I gave your people the note,” she said, addressing Alvarez directly.
“Note?” Seth asked.
“A yellow sticky note. Said the baby’s name is Michael.”
Only then did Seth look at the baby. Tiny. Black hair. Tan skin. Bi-racial?
Kat finished feeding the baby his bottle. “Want to hold him?”
Alvarez smiled and held out his hands.
“You might want to . . .” Kat pointed to a stack of absorbent pads.
Alvarez nodded. “I’ve got this.”
He slung a pad across his shoulder and cradled the baby with practiced ease. Alvarez gently patted Michael’s back. The baby gave a lusty burp. The spit-up missed the burp pad and spewed down Alvarez’s sleeve.
“Oh God. Sorry,” Kat said, reaching for a fresh pad to clean up the mess.
“It’s okay.” Alvarez chuckled. “I’ve got two of my own. They’re older than this one, of course.”
Alvarez thrust the baby toward him and Seth backed away.
“No, I . . .”
The protest was futile. All the gas dispelled from his tummy, the baby settled down. His big eyes looked up at Seth, so trusting.
The warm weight of the child in his arms was a comfort. He made a small gurgling noise, and Seth rocked him.
He’d wanted this once. When Holly had told him she was pregnant, he was the happiest guy alive. He’d bought stuffed animals and a Seahawks sleeper for the baby before Holly told him to stop. It was too soon. He would jinx things. Besides, she said, it might be a girl.
The day they’d found out the baby was gone was the worst moment of his life. Or so he thought.
“Seth.”
Alvarez motioned for the baby. Seth looked down into the child’s sweet face, suddenly reluctant to give him up.
“We’re going to find you a good home, Michael,” he said. “Everything is going to be all right.”
He handed the baby to Kat. Humming under her breath, she returned with Michael to the nursery.
“You okay?” Alvarez asked.
Seth nodded.
“Cute kid. You think he’s Becky’s? Figured you wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Seth shook his head. “Mixed race. Maddox is white.”
“So? The dishwasher was Filipino. Who’s to say Becky wasn’t lying about the baby’s father?”
“Suppose it’s possible. You’re going to take DNA?”
Alvarez dabbed at the wet spot on his shirt and discarded the damp pad as he turned toward the elevators.
“Yeah. We’ll compare the DNA test results from the baby to Becky and the other girl, Suzie.”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Sure.” Alvarez pushed the elevator’s down button. “How are things going at the foundation?”
They’re a mess, Seth thought. They were flying by the seat of their pants and Henry was breaking new laws every day. They were one lawsuit away from having to close the doors, and Evan seemed to either not know or not care. Seth didn’t know which was worse. It was a shame. Elizabeth’s original vision of helping victims w
as a good one.
“They’re fine,” he said.
“You’re not happy?”
Airing his concerns about the foundation with his former boss felt disloyal.
Seth shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s the right place for me.”
Alvarez absorbed this in silence. The elevator doors opened, and they both stepped inside.
“So here’s the thing. I’m forming a new unit, and I could use someone with your experience.”
“You’re serious?” Seth asked.
“I might even be able to get your pension reinstated.”
After leaving the force the way he had, Seth had never imagined going back. If he left the foundation now, his departure might cripple their ability to pursue the missing persons case. And someone had to keep an eye on Cahill. Although the timing was horrible, the idea was tempting.
“When do you need an answer by?”
“I can give you a few days to think about it. After that, I’ll look for other candidates.”
“Okay,” Seth said, feeling the weight of the decision fall heavily on his shoulders. “Have you seen the surveillance video yet?”
“They’re cueing it up now. Want to stick around?”
“Sure,” Seth said.
Maybe for once they would catch a break.
Chapter 29
The spray from the hot shower rolled down Tory’s face. Steam filled the tiny bathroom. A door banged. Not the distant bang of the neighbors. Closer. She tensed, fully alert.
Footsteps.
She couldn’t remember if she’d locked the front door. Tory turned off the shower, straining to hear. Nothing.
The gun.
The only decent thing she’d gotten from her last ex-boyfriend, she’d stolen. A lightweight Smith and Wesson revolver he sometimes brought with him on drug buys. It was buried in her purse, which she’d discarded by the front door. Useless to her.
Despite the heat from the shower, Tory broke out into goose bumps. She reached for a towel. The door opened. Tory gasped. Slipped. Almost fell. Caught herself on the towel bar.
Xander stepped into the room.
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