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“We’d better get you and Poppy both inside,” Sam said, but he didn’t move right away. The sidewalk was hard and hot, and the stone facade behind them was the same, but with Mila smiling and Poppy sprawled across them, it was the most comfortable he’d been all day.
He forced himself into motion, though. Knowing that her attacker had just been less than a block away made him antsy about staying out here in plain sight. Even though Simpson waited outside the building door—she must have escaped him the minute she saw Poppy out the window—and he was sure Liam was still watching the back exit, Sam wanted her safely behind thick walls. Maybe with bulletproof and shatterproof windows. A tall row of iron bars every foot or so. A place impervious to fire, blast, flood or gas.
He got Mila and himself to their feet, and they both gripped Poppy’s collar. A crinkle sounded, and he bent over to find a piece of plain paper tied to the collar with a string. Using the chain to manipulate the paper to the right angle for reading, he scowled at it.
“What does it say?” Simpson had joined them, pulling a latex glove from his back pocket, along with a small multitool.
“I’m glad you’re better prepared than I am,” Sam complimented him, drawing a grin. Then he added, “Go ahead and pull it off,” and Simpson turned serious again.
He crouched, tried to avoid Poppy’s spastic A new person I haven’t greeted! lick, then clipped the string and removed the note, holding both carefully in his gloved hand. “‘Next time I won’t go so easy on you.’”
Just for this moment, Sam pretended he didn’t see the stark change in Mila’s eyes. Just for the moment, he wanted everything to be okay, his girls to be safe, the ugliness kept as far from her, from them, as it could be kept. Just for this moment, he wanted to revel in the fact that she had survived the attack at the creek and that Poppy was back home and looked none the worse for wear.
It was so damned unfair that moments passed so quickly.
* * *
As soon as they reached the fifth floor, Poppy tore down the hall, skidded sideways into the apartment and brought a delighted cry from Gramma. Mila smiled faintly. She was so sick inside she was surprised she could stand and walk and talk—well, she hadn’t said anything since seeing the note. Sam acted as if he hadn’t noticed the change, but she knew he had. She felt it in the stiffness radiating from him. Part of it was fatigue, too much worry in too short a time, but part of it was her.
She’d reached the door when Wynona’s clicked open. The old lady looked her over thoroughly through the two-inch crack, humphed, then said, “You look all right. And the great-grandbaby looks all right. Good.”
Mila was surprised. She hadn’t heard Wynona say anything nice in all the time Gramma had been her neighbor. She couldn’t even form a thank-you before the door started closing again.
Suddenly it stopped, and Wynona’s eyes appeared again. “She might sing because she’s happy, but it sure doesn’t make the rest of us happy.” With a nod, she slammed the door.
Mila looked at Sam, who showed a hint of wry humor. “One of the songs Jessica was singing this afternoon. Apparently, Wynona took particular offense to her rendition.”
When they went inside the apartment, Gramma was in the kitchen, hands on her hips, watching Poppy suck in enough water for a camel. “I called Dr. Andrea, and she’s coming by to take a look at the baby. We just want to be sure she’s okay.”
Mila nodded emphatically. While Poppy’s behavior was perfectly normal now, what if the man had fed her something that would make her sick later? What if he’d poisoned her? What if he’d brought her back only to taunt them by making her die later?
No. The note said he wouldn’t go so easy next time. That implied his intent this time had been to create fear, right? And he’d done that, and he’d let her go, and for the moment they were safe. They had to be safe.
Poppy filled her stomach, made a little room by burping, took another drink, then climbed onto the sofa and stretched out. Mila bent over the back, rubbing her shoulder, her belly, the soft silky side of her face. “You need a nap, don’t you?”
