Chapter 2
Mom startled awake and pulled me closer. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"
Dad shot up from his chair. "What's going on?"
Paula's smile flickered for half a second before settling back into place. "John, it's only a routine check. Your daughter probably woke up from all the talking."
Dad looked at me crying my lungs out, then back at Paula. "Does this test have to happen right now?"
"It's hospital policy—"
"My daughter's upset. Can we do this in the daytime?" Dad asked.
Paula's mouth tightened.
"And one more thing." Dad walked to the doorway and peered down the hall. "I checked the duty roster at the nurse's station. You're not on for tonight. A nurse named Lee is."
The air hung heavy for a moment.
"I-I'm covering her shift. She had a family emergency," Paula said, her voice less steady now.
Dad didn't say anything, but his eyes went hard.
He worked as a technical supervisor at the factory. He noticed details. He remembered names on lists.
It was a habit. Any room he walked into, he checked the posted rules first thing.
"Have the head nurse schedule it for tomorrow. Tonight won't work," Dad said.
Paula's mouth opened like she wanted to argue.
But Dad had already sat down beside my mother, one hand on her shoulder and the other gently rubbing my back.
The message was clear. It was Paula's time to leave.
Paula's eyes rested on me for a few seconds. Through my tears, I saw something cold in her gaze.
Then she turned and wheeled the empty cart out the door.
Once the door clicked shut, Dad didn't sit back down.
He stepped into the hallway and looked toward the supply closet. The door stood slightly open.
He walked over and pushed it wide. The room was empty, but a patch of damp, muddy footprints marked the floor.
The window was wide open, cold air spilling in. Someone had crawled out the back way.
He stood in that supply closet with a dark expression.
He knelt to study the muddy prints, then noticed fresh scrapes on the windowsill paint.
Back in the maternity room, he shut the door firmly and wedged the folding chair under the handle.
Mom's face went pale. "John, what's happening?"
"Nothing. You hold our girl tight. No matter who knocks tonight, don't open that door."
He didn't say more. His hand stayed in his pocket, wrapped around the screwdriver he always carried.
I stopped crying and curled into the warmth of her arms. She patted my back and murmured, "It's all right. Everything's all right."
He sat in that folding chair against the door and stayed awake until morning.
Outside, the January wind rattled the windows. The radiator pipes hissed and dripped.
That winter was bitterly cold, but my mother's arms felt like the safest place on earth.
I pressed my ear to her chest and counted her heartbeats. One. Two. Three.
In my previous life, I never heard that sound. This time, I planned to keep it forever.
*****
Early next morning, pale winter sunlight crept into the room and took the chill off.
I'd barely slept, tucked against her all night, but I stayed quiet and calm.
When she woke, she looked down at me. I was already watching her face.
Her whole expression lit up. "John, look! She's been watching me all night long."
He came closer and reached out a hand toward me.
I scrunched up my face, stuck out my lower lip, and let my eyes fill with tears.
His hand stopped midair. He pulled it back and scratched his neck. "Okay, okay. No touching. I'm only looking."
She laughed. "This girl is glued to me. She won't let anyone else near her."
That was right. I wanted everyone to understand. This baby belonged to her mother and nobody else.
No one would ever take me from her arms again. Not ever.
During morning rounds, the head of obstetrics arrived with her team.
They checked me over carefully. Everything looked good. The newborn screening was rescheduled.
This time it happened in broad daylight. The head nurse handled it herself, and Dad didn't blink once the whole time.
I noticed the way he looked at me now was different from the night before.
Last night, he'd been running on instinct and suspicion. Today, he was checking everyone.
After the screening, he told Mom he was stepping out to grab some breakfast from the cafeteria. Instead, he lingered near the payphone at the end of the hall.
He kept his voice down, but I was listening hard to her arms, catching every word.
He said, "Luke, I need you to look into a nurse named Paula Green. She says she works OB here. And somebody messed with the hallway light outside the maternity ward last night. I want to know who."
Luke Shaffer was an old coworker from the factory who'd moved over to a desk job at the health department.
Perfect. Dad didn't do sloppy work. The guys from the factory's technical unit were detail men down to their bones.
If a decimal point was off on a schematic, he'd hunt down the reason. And if somebody tried something with his daughter in the middle of the night, he wasn't going to forget about it.