Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,59

watch Laurie.”

I tied a bright gold, cranberry, and orange striped scarf around my neck, hoping to give myself a little lift and relieve my washed-out and tired-looking face. The weather was starting to change from balmy Indian summer to chilly fall so I grabbed my leather jacket and put it on. I searched my dresser for car keys. I felt so light, preparing to go out without Laurie, I thought I was forgetting something.

Where were my car keys?

Ah! Diaper bag.

Where was the diaper bag?

I thought back to what seemed like an eternity ago—this morning.

Oh, yes. I had flung the bag across the living room.

It lay curled in a heap by a corner side table. I rummaged through it and located my keys.

Mother eyed me from her position on the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find my mind. I know it’s here somewhere.”

Mother smirked. “Give it a few weeks, Kate. You’ll feel like yourself in no time.”

I shoved the keys into my jacket pocket and fingered a slithering piece of metal. I pulled it out. In my hand was the bracelet I had pocketed a couple weeks ago, outside the medical examiner’s office with Michelle.

“What’s that?” Mother asked.

I shrugged. “A bracelet. It fell out of one of George’s bags.”

Laurie woke and wailed, and Mother got up to get her. “I’ll see to her. You go on.”

I studied the bracelet a moment. Silver with the inscription BERRY on it. The clasp was broken. Could it be Kiku’s?

•CHAPTER SEVENTEEN•

The Fifth Week—Determination

When I arrived at Kiku’s, I was surprised to find the door slightly open.

I knocked and called out, “Kiku!”

No answer.

I knocked again and called louder.

A chill ran down my spine. I reached into my pockets, searching for my cell phone.

Shit.

It was still in the diaper bag on my living room floor.

I pushed the front door open and called again. “Kiku!”

Nothing.

I stepped into the apartment.

Goose bumps shot up my arms. I scanned the living room, half expecting to see Kiku lying facedown on the floor. What I saw instead was an abundance of baby paraphernalia. A swing, a bouncy chair, and a shimmering white bassinet filled the small room.

Maybe she’d had her baby shower? That would explain the apartment door being ajar. Maybe someone was helping her carry up the gifts and she’d be back any second.

I surprised myself by feeling left out. Of course. Kiku didn’t know I was her baby’s aunt. George had probably never told her about his family.

On further thought, she couldn’t be bringing in gifts. The stuff that was here was already assembled. If she was bringing things up, she’d probably bring everything up at once, then assemble it later.

Baby gear always comes in a box, with the ridiculous statement: “Easy to assemble.” And I don’t care what they claim—none of it, ever, could be opened or closed with “just one hand.” The boxes are covered in lies.

I walked farther into the apartment. Everything looked normal in the kitchen.

Why was Kiku’s door open?

Had someone kidnapped her?

I imagined Kiku tied up hostage style in someone’s filthy garage, gagged, her pregnant belly protruding.

I tried to shake the thought from my mind as I made my way into her small bedroom, looking for any kind of distress.

Nothing seemed out of place. The room was impeccable.

Where could she be?

I peeked into her closet for boogeymen.

No killer hiding there.

The open front door probably meant nothing.

Could she be having the baby?

Oh, God!

I imagined Kiku running out of the apartment, looking for help, leaving the door open. I hoped nothing was wrong.

I glanced down at a jewelry dish that held several small gold rings. All too small, I was sure, for her to wear at the moment.

I glanced down at my own hands. I had yet to replace my wedding ring. I fingered a pretty gold necklace and matching earrings.

Hmmm, all gold.

No silver like the bracelet I’d found.

I ambled over to the bedroom window that overlooked the apartment house gardens. There, I saw Kiku bent over a bed of dahlias.

I pried open the window and called out to her. “Kiku! What are you doing? You shouldn’t be gardening!”

Kiku looked up and squinted toward the window. A look of recognition crossed her face. “Only a few flowers,” she said with a laugh. “For Baby.”

“Yes, but it’s not good for you. I don’t think so anyway. You shouldn’t be on the ground like that.”

I don’t actually know anything about gardening. Jim is the green thumb in our family. But I certainly didn’t like seeing a nine-month-pregnant lady