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I shake my head.
No. I can’t forget how Nick looked. Aside from being handsome and dangerous, he looked haunted. Like he was close to the breaking point, and one thing going wrong could put him in a terrible place. Seeing that baby in there in his arms means there’s no way I can just walk away. I have to know more.
The shadow in the living room moves away from the window, and I seize my chance.
“You go around back,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
“Go around and just look through the windows. See what you can see.”
“What exactly am I looking for while executing this terrible idea?”
“Anything that might be dangerous or might show that the baby in there is in trouble.”
Sophie rolls her eyes but nods, and I watch as she sneaks around the side of the house, her movements surprisingly stealthy. My heart is pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. This is crazy, but I can't shake off the feeling that something's very wrong.
I take a deep breath and inch closer to the front door. The dim light from inside casts eerie shadows across the porch, and I strain my ears to catch any sounds from within. I hear muffled cooing and hushed whispers—Nick's voice, maybe soothing the baby.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, I edge along the side of the house toward another window. As I peer inside, my breath catches in my throat. The room is sparsely furnished, clearly not lived in for quite some time. Nick stands in the middle, rocking the baby with a worried expression etched on his face. Sweat beads on his forehead; he's stressed out of his mind.
A loud creak from behind sends me into a mild panic. Moments later, Sophie reappears, shaking her head. "I didn't see anything dangerous," she whispers harshly. "But this place gives me the creeps."
“Me too.”
Strange and dangerous man determined to stay off the radar, holed up in a vacant house with a sick baby? It isn’t normal, or anywhere close to it.
But what can I do?
Call CPS, maybe. Except who knows how he’d react? What if Nick did something rash, or hurt someone, or just ran off with that baby and put himself, and it, in an even worse situation?
“What do we do?” Sophie says.
“I don’t know. I need a second to think. You’re sure you didn’t see anything off?”
Maybe the cops are an option. They might be able to handle Nick. Though, the second I have that idea, I dismiss it. I know the Ironwood Falls PD, most everyone does, since it’s a small town, and there’s only one officer on the force that I’d trust to handle this situation, especially since it involves a baby, and there’s no way to guarantee she’d be the one they send.
“I’m sure. The window just looked in to the kitchen, and he didn’t have much. There was a bowl of cereal, a bottle of whiskey, and a gun, nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“A gun? That didn’t strike you as odd?”
“It’s just a tool, just like anything else. Don’t go getting up on a soapbox, Em, just because the hot guy — and he is hot, I mean, damn, I got a good look at his butt when he passed by the kitchen entryway and I actually shivered — is probably a responsible gun owner. Now is not the time for preachiness.”
“Whiskey, guns—”
“Gun, singular. I only saw one. Don’t go putting words into my mouth.”
“A gun, and alcohol, and a baby, all in a vacant house that he’s probably illegally occupying.” The more I say it out loud, the more I realize I need to call the cops. Something strange is going on here, and that baby could be in danger. Maybe I can hang around the scene when they arrive and help them take care of the little one. “Anything else I’m missing?”
She shrugs. “Again, it all seemed fine to me, but opinions differ. Why don’t you go see for yourself?”
“Fine. Let’s go look through the window, so I can at least know everything that’s in there before I call this in to the cops,” I say, while wishing Sophie and I didn’t have such vastly opposing views of what comprised a normal Friday night.
“The cops? Shit. I was not prepared for that. If you’re going to call the cops, hold on for a second,” Sophie says, reaching into a pocket and tossing a small baggie into a hedge. “OK, we’re good.”
“What was that?”
“It’s Friday night, Em, lay off.”
