breaking all kinds of promises, lying to save face. But Chris was different. “I’m positive,” I say, to drive home the point. Sensing I don’t want to explore that subject further, he changes tactics.
“Your friend Jess.” He scratches his jaw, his fingernails grinding on sandpaper. “Let’s start with her since she was with the baby all day.”
I nod. “Should I call her?”
“It would be helpful, yes.”
I cringe at what I assume to be a highly inappropriate hour, but I make the call anyway. She doesn’t answer, and I send her a text. “She might be asleep.”
“Let’s just see if she responds.” He hesitates. “I’m going to push this—even though it’s out of my jurisdiction—to see what I can get done tonight. I’ll probably be at the station most of the night, but if I need to crash…”
“Of course.” I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I retrieve the sheets, pillow, and blanket from the ottoman.
“Let me.”
“It’s a pullout,” I explain, motioning toward the couch.
The coils groan as he unfolds the mattress and dresses it. I don’t want to be here without my baby. I can’t sit in my room all night, thinking. I’m Jackson’s mother. I need to be out there, doing something.
“Look, Bec.” He moves right in front of me so that I get a whiff of his skin: clean, like soap. “I’m working a few other cases. I’m going to fight to be here for you, but if my unit calls, then—”
“Then you have to go. I know the drill.” I pray that Chicago can have one crime-free night to spare its lead homicide detective. “There’s this guy, Officer Toby.” I turn and walk to the small dish by the front door. I retrieve the entire dish and extend it toward Jake. “His card’s in here somewhere. He told me to call if I needed him.” I explain about Officer Toby’s two visits a few days ago, and our conversation at the party. “Do you know him?”
“I don’t, but let me give him a quick call, okay? See if he can get down to the station and get a jump on this.”
“Okay.”
He moves into the dining room to make the call. Not knowing what else to do, I walk back to the nursery. Outside the door, I bury the irrational fear of finding the baby lifeless or not breathing—an unsuspecting victim of SIDS or allergy to something in my milk. I push open the door and immediately hear his labored, snotty breathing. At the crib, I lower my hands to where his body should be, but find that he’s positioned himself all the way to the edge of the rails. I gently palm his body—still warm.
“Poor little guy.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. Though he’s not mine, he’s someone’s child, and I’m still a mother. I press my hand against his forehead and then down to his cheeks. I trace small circles over his back. I decide something in my son’s room, comforting another woman’s child. While this baby is here, I will make sure he’s okay. I make the promise to myself, to Jackson, to us.
My phone rings. My heart does an irrational lurch and I back out of the room before it wakes the baby. I issue a breathless “hello.” Could it be whoever has Jackson? Maybe this nightmare will be over before it’s even begun.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Jess’s voice is clogged with sleep, and I feel guilty for waking her.
“Is there any way you can come over?”
“Now? Is the baby okay? Are you—”
“The baby is fine, but a detective is here.”
A door shuts. “Already on my way.”
I hang up. I walk back downstairs to tell Jake, but he’s still on with the precinct. I sit on the bottom stair, drop my head into my hands, and wait.
17
BEC
Jess lets herself in moments later. “Bec?” she whispers into the hallway. Jake and I meet her in the foyer.
“This is Detective Jake Donovan,” I explain before she can ask.
“Hi.” Jess’s voice is confused. “Where’s Jackson?”
I steel myself and sigh. “Let’s go into the kitchen.” Once there, I turn toward her. “I know you think I’m confused, but I’m not. I don’t know what happened from the time I fainted until the time we left the park, but somehow I made it home with a different baby.”
“Rebecca.” Jess’s tone borders on condescending. “I was right there. You fainted for like twenty seconds.”