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“Yeah, I think it isn’t bothering me, and then it is. I’m sure it has something to do with the baby I saw get dropped out of the car. I felt like there had to be a reason I was there in the first place to rescue her.”
“I know you want to try to find meaning in all of this, especially with the babies that keep popping up. But it might just be coincidence. They’re getting closer to having some idea what happened to the baby in your attic, and I hope that will be enough. You might still need more answers.”
“Wow, that’s intense, Will. Someone is going to have to answer to why there were bones in my attic. A little rotting dress, with tiny white lace-edged socks packaged with the bones. I can’t get those two images out of my mind.”
“Don’t worry about asking me about the case, either. If I hear anything, I’ll tell you, unless I’m told not to repeat it.”
“The cop who came when I found that baby on the street is going to make some information-gathering calls today. A fellow detective who used to date the mother of Pam Braddock’s grandson might have some information. Then he’s bringing his new girlfriend to my apartment for lunch.”
“Have a safe trip into the city, and stay in touch. I’ll be here, all alone, in my house.”
“Aw, poor Will. I wish I didn’t have to go. What do you usually do on Sunday?”
“Stay here, all alone, in my house.”
I laughed, loving his sense of humor. “Okay, well, I won’t feel guilty about leaving you, then.”
“No guilt, ever.”
We said goodbye, and I reluctantly ended the call. I got an early start after having a cup of coffee. The drive into the city felt unnatural, and that I had actually lived there for over six months, working there and forming relationships of a sort, was unbelievable.
I pulled into the parking garage and got the dolly out of the trunk so I hopefully wouldn’t have to make more than one trip. With my phone in my hand as usual, I had walked about halfway down the driveway to the street when I saw a small, rusty foreign sports car parked off to the side with a man behind the wheel, watching me. It made my skin crawl, and I paused, taking a step back when the car door opened.
The familiar physique stepping out of the car identified who it was: Emory Bryant. I’d recognize him anywhere. I didn’t hesitate before glancing at my phone and dialing 911.
“Don’t call the cops!” he shouted.
“The police are already looking for you. What do you want?” I asked, sounding calmer than I felt. “You shouldn’t be here, Emory.”
“I’ve got Yasmine,” he said. “I need your help.”
“Why bring her to me, Emory?”
“Because I don’t know what else to do. I didn’t kill the babysitter.”
“I think they know that, Emory. They were told the superintendent called you after the ruckus, after they heard the baby crying.”
“The super knows me,” he said. “He knew Eimy was out of the country. She was with your father.”
“Yes. He’s dead,” I said nonsensically. But it resonated with him, his eyes wide, shoulders slumped. I kept using the name Emory, hoping the familiarity would defuse his anger.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. My father is alive, but he might as well be dead.”
“I’m sorry, too, Emory.”
“Worthless piece of shit.”
I knew that cars were driving down Lexington and wished one of them would see that there was something out of place in the alley alongside the apartment building and stop to investigate. I slipped my phone into my pocket, the 9-1-1 call hopefully answered and acted upon. As long as the call was live, they could locate me, I hoped.
Emory had taken a step away from the car so he was in the middle of the road, blocking my way if I wanted to run. But that wasn’t happening. A wave of fear washed over me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “That’s awful to have been hurt by a parent.”
“Nothing you’ve got to do with it. Look, I need to get out of here, but I don’t want to take the baby with me. Can you take her?”
“Yes! I’ll take her. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Take her and call the cops, but can you give me some time?”
