Page 36 of His Daughter

"I see she's settled."

"Thank you, Dominique," I said. "That'll be all for tonight."

She nodded and retreated into the nursery.

Thea turned to me. "Where are the baby's things?"

I led her down the hallway. The nursery was the second door on the left — a room Mrs. Parrish assembled in a single day after the DNA results came back. White walls. A pink crib, a changing table, and a rocking chair.

Thea walked through the room. She opened cabinets, checked drawers, and found the breast milk storage containers alphabetized in a cabinet — a system Dominique had organized — and closed the door without comment.

She checked the room temperature, felt the crib mattress, and ran her hand along the railing. She pulled a blanket from her bag and held it out to me.

"Where did you get that?"

"She came wrapped in it. I thought it was yours. Those are your initials, right?"

I took it and turned it over — DJH. My initials. But the blanket wasn't mine. I'd never seen it.

"I don't know where this came from." I held it for a moment, then set it on the rocking chair. Something to figure out later.

Thea was already moving. "Emergency exits."

"I'm sorry?"

"Emergency exits. Where are they?"

"You're on the fortieth floor of a building with a twenty-four-hour concierge and a state-of-the-art fire suppression system. The exits are — "

"We're on the fortieth floor with an infant. I want to know where the stairs are."

She wasn't joking. Her face was completely serious. I led her to the stairwell access at the end of the hallway, showed her the door, the push bar, and the illuminated exit sign above it.

"Pediatrician's number," she said. "In case of emergencies."

I pulled up Dr. Kaplan's contact on my phone and turned the screen toward her. She typed the number into her own phone. Her fingers moved fast.

I led her down the hall to her room. It was the guest suite — large, clean, with its own bathroom. I kept some of my things in the closet because it was the room closest to the kitchen, and I sometimes changed there in the mornings when I was running late. The closet door was open. My shirts were visible on the rack.

Thea stopped in the doorway. She turned to face me. Lena was asleep on her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed.

"What do you think is going on here?" she whispered. “You think this is some sort of sleepover party?”

"What?"

"This is your room."

"It's not…” I chuckled. “I keep some things in the closet, but I don't sleep here. My room is down the hall."

"So you're not trying to…"

"No." I held up both hands. "That's not…I wouldn't…no."

"Well." She adjusted Lena on her shoulder. "I apologize for assuming."

"Noted. My room is the last door on the left. This one is yours. The nursery is between us." I stepped back. "Good night, Calloway."

"Good night, Mr. Hale."