Chapter 2
I moved Lucy behind me before I even understood the words.
A man came around the corner wearing a stained gray hoodie and work boots.
He stopped when he saw my uniform.
His face changed too fast.
Anger first.
Then calculation.
Then a smile.
“Officer,” he called. “Thank God. I’ve been looking everywhere for her.”
Lucy pressed herself against the back of my leg.
The baby cried harder.
The man held out his hands.
“Come here, Lucy. You scared your mother.”
Lucy did not move.
I asked, “What’s your name?”
“Brent Miller. I’m her stepfather.”
“Where are her shoes?”
He blinked.
“She slipped out before I could stop her.”
“She’s carrying a baby.”
“My son,” he said quickly. “Leo. She grabbed him from his crib.”
Lucy whispered, “No.”
Brent’s eyes flicked toward her.
It was quick.
Ugly.
The kind of look adults think children cannot explain.
I radioed for another unit.
Brent’s smile thinned.
“Is that necessary?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
“I can take my kids inside now.”
I looked down at Lucy.
“Do you want to go with him?”
She shook her head so hard my jacket slipped off her shoulder.
Brent laughed.
“She’s dramatic. Her mother lets her watch too much TV.”
“Where is her mother?”
“Asleep. She’s sick.”
“Then I’ll need to check on her.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s not a good time.”
“Welfare check means I check welfare.”
I walked toward the duplex with Lucy and Leo behind me.
Brent tried to block the steps.
I turned my body so my camera faced him.
“Step aside.”
He saw the body camera light.
He stepped aside.
Inside, the smell hit first.
Old food.
Mold.
Unwashed blankets.
Something worse.
A woman lay on a stained couch, too still.
Lucy whispered, “Mommy.”
I crossed to her and checked for a pulse.
Alive.
Barely responsive.
Empty pill bottles sat on the floor.
One had someone else’s name on it.
Brent said, “She does this. She’s an addict.”
Lucy cried, “Mommy doesn’t take those.”
I saw bruising on the woman’s wrist.
Not fresh.
Not old.
Repeated.
The second unit arrived with paramedics.
Brent tried to leave.
My partner, Officer Reyes, stopped him at the door.
Then one paramedic lifted Leo’s blanket.
He looked at me.
The baby was wearing a hospital bracelet.
Not from Dallas.
From Houston.
The name printed on it was not Leo Miller.
It was Leo Whitmore.
Lucy saw me reading.
She whispered, “That’s his real name.”
Brent lunged toward her.
I caught him before he reached the child.
Reyes had him on the wall in seconds.
Lucy screamed.
I knelt in front of her.
“Lucy, tell me what you mean.”
She looked at Brent.
Then at her mother.
May you like
Then at the baby.
“He’s not my brother,” she whispered. “Mommy said we had to hide him.”
