Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,48

and none of them have been accurate. She’s paranoid, Jake. I’ve seen it a million times.” I pull my head away. I don’t want to hear the rest.

I walk in a circle and thrust my fingers through the baby’s hair and gently bounce him up and down. For the first time, he seems content. As if on cue, he lets out a tiny satisfied sigh that tugs at my heart. “Who wouldn’t want you?” I whisper. “Who in the world…?”

The door opens, and I wait for further instructions.

“Bec…” The way Jake says my name makes me nervous. “We’re probably going to need to wait until morning. We need to verify a few things—talk to witnesses—before we can go further. We’ve done another scan and there are no missing babies reported. Not in Elmhurst or the surrounding areas.”

“If someone did this on purpose, I’m sure they aren’t going to alert the authorities that their baby is missing,” I snap.

“We understand that, but again, without some sort of finite proof, we have to go with protocol. We’ll get the digital footprint, talk to witnesses, and go from there. Okay?”

I laugh, a short bark that echoes in the dull room. “So I’m just supposed to wait until morning?” I look between them. “And do what exactly?”

“I know this is hard,” Jake says.

“No, you don’t. You have no clue.” I’m talking about Jackson, but I’m also talking about everything else. He doesn’t have any idea. No one does.

“Mrs. Gray,” Officer Toby begins.

“It’s Rebecca,” I say. “I’m not a Mrs. anymore. My husband is dead.” I bounce the baby, who has started to fuss once I raised my voice. “And what happens to him?”

“He stays with you tonight, unless you want us to call Social Services.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say.

Jake lowers his voice and whispers something to Officer Toby, who straightens papers on the table. “I’ll just let you two talk. We’ll be in touch in the morning, Rebecca.” He slips out the door.

“Can we go now?” I ask. I’m already reaching for him, having forgotten my cane when we left the house so fast. He guides me outside, and I’m incensed that the police aren’t helping. This is a missing baby we’re talking about.

We’re silent on the walk back. For the second time tonight, I assess the sounds of nature—loud and persistent.

“What time is it?” I finally ask.

“Two,” he says.

I calculate the hours missing: fourteen. Too long. At the door, I unlock it and almost stumble into the entryway.

“Rebecca.” Jake is instantly beside me.

I clutch his jacket as though I’m drowning. “I need my baby,” I cry. “Please, I need him. I need him.” My pleas grow louder. As my voice strengthens, the baby cries. I can’t be in this house. I can’t stay here, staring down at an empty crib. I press to standing, but my throat constricts. “I can’t breathe,” I whisper. Suddenly, I’m back in the park, feeling like I’m going to die. “Jake…” I pitch forward and fall to my hands and knees. The baby jostles against my chest and cries harder. I roll to my back. I’m dizzy. I’m going to faint.

“Jesus Christ, Rebecca. Here, sit up.” Jake gathers me in his arms, but I refuse to sit. I don’t want to sit. I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to do anything without Jackson. “Rebecca!” He shakes my arms, unlatches the baby, and takes him somewhere else. His cries pierce my ears, and I lay back against the cold wood. My black world spins, slows, grows dreamy. But before I give in, I hear the groan of pipes upstairs, a shower running.

Then, Jake is back downstairs, and tosses me over his shoulder. I’m too weak to protest. He hikes the stairs, kicks open my bathroom door, and dunks me in the bathtub fully clothed, the icy needles instantly jolting me awake for the second time tonight. I scream, but he presses me down until I’m gasping and crying.

“Stay,” he orders. His hands restrain while I fight against him, my tiny fists banging his sturdy muscles. “Stop it. Just stop it.” His voice is gentle, though his meaning is firm.

And finally, too tired to do anything else, I give in and wrench his body against mine. He soaks his own jacket, his shirt, and his entire body, but he holds me there, not moving, until the water makes me numb, and I’m drained of tears.

19

BEC

Light cracks through the blinds and alerts me to morning. I shoot up in