Chapter 1 - THE BABY IN HER ARMSI picked up my nineteen-year-old daughter, Sophie, after her summer job at a lakeside resort.
She walked out of the employee building holding a newborn baby.
I froze.
“Sophie?”
She gave me a nervous smile.
“Hi, Mom.”
I stared at the tiny girl in her arms.
She looked barely a few weeks old.
A diaper bag hung from Sophie’s shoulder, and there was a pink blanket wrapped tightly around the baby.
“Whose baby is that?”
Sophie looked away.
“Can we just get in the car?”
“Where’s her mother?”
Silence.
“Sophie, what’s going on?”
She tightened her arms around the baby.
I stepped closer.
“Are we taking her somewhere?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Then why are you holding her?”
She finally looked me in the eyes.
And what she said made my entire world stop.
“Mom... she’s mine now.”
My heart dropped.
“What do you mean, she’s yours?”
Sophie looked down at the sleeping newborn.
Then she whispered,
“I brought her home because there was nowhere else for her to go.”
I stared at my daughter.
She had spent the entire summer three hours away, working at a resort on Lake Harper.
She had called every Sunday.
She had complained about rude guests, long shifts, and one manager who kept changing her schedule.
Never once had she mentioned a baby.
Never once had she said anything about being involved with a pregnant woman.
“Is this a joke?”
“No.”
“Is the baby yours?”
Sophie’s face crumpled.
“I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know, Mom.”
I looked at the infant.
She was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that the two women standing above her were having their world ripped apart.
“Sophie, get in the car.”
She climbed into the passenger seat.
The baby stayed in her arms.
I drove away from the resort without asking another question.
For the first ten minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I noticed something.
The baby had a tiny hospital bracelet around her wrist.
I pulled into a gas station.
“Sophie.”
She looked at me.
“Where did you get her?”
“Mom, I told you—”
“No. I need the whole truth.”
She looked toward the back window.
Then she reached into the diaper bag.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I found this.”
I opened it.
It was a handwritten note.
Three sentences.
Please protect her.
Do not trust the police.
They know who she is.
My hands went cold.
“What is this?”
Sophie started crying.
“I didn't write it.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
“Sophie!”
“She gave me the baby.”
“Who?”
Sophie swallowed.
“A woman who worked at the resort.”
I stared at her.
“What woman?”
“She told me her name was Emily.”
“And where is Emily now?”
Sophie didn't answer.
I looked at her reflection in the passenger window.
Her face had gone white.
“Sophie?”
“She disappeared.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“The night before I left.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
Sophie stared down at the baby.
Then she whispered,
“She told me if anything happened to her, I was supposed to take the baby home.”
I looked at the tiny girl.
“What did she say about the baby's father?”
Sophie shook her head.
“She said he was dangerous.”
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Then the baby stirred.
Her tiny fingers curled around the pink blanket.
As Sophie lifted her slightly, I noticed another hospital bracelet beneath the blanket.
And this one had a name.
Not Emily.
Not Sophie.
A name I recognized.
A name I had not heard in twenty years.
Daniel Mercer.
My dead husband's name.
I nearly drove off the road.
“What the hell?”
Sophie looked at me.
“What?”
I pointed at the bracelet.
“Where did you get that?”
She looked.
Her lips parted.
“I've never seen that before.”
I pulled the car onto the shoulder.
My hands were shaking.
Daniel had been dead for five years.
He couldn't possibly have anything to do with this child.
Unless the bracelet meant something else.
I reached for it.
Before I could touch it, a black SUV suddenly pulled onto the shoulder behind us.
Its headlights flashed.
Once.
Twice.
Then the passenger door opened.
A man stepped out.
Sophie grabbed my arm.
“Mom.”
“What?”
She whispered,
“That’s the man I saw arguing with Emily.”
The man started walking toward us.
Then he stopped.
He looked directly through the windshield.
Directly at the baby.
And smiled.
I locked the doors.
He lifted one hand.
Not waving.
Pointing.
At the baby.
May you like
Then he mouthed four words through the glass.
You have no idea.
