He had Laurie in his arms.
He gazed down at her. “She’s really beautiful. Fragile, huh?”
“Yes,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I love babies,” he said.
Why hadn’t I strapped her in!
I forced myself to breathe.
And think.
I reached past him and pulled the office door open. Light flooded into the room, causing Laurie to stir and wail again.
“Here,” he said, handing Laurie back to me.
Such relief washed over me that my knees felt weak. I snatched Laurie from him, barely able to contain myself. I pushed her stroller into the hallway muttering, “Jerk.”
The office door clicked closed behind me. But not soon enough that I didn’t hear his snicker.
Laurie wailed again and I stopped short of the swinging kitchen doors to soothe her. She kicked her feet up at me. One foot with Mom’s booty on, the other bare.
I did a quick check underneath her, then down the hallway. No booty.
Probably left behind in the office.
Forget it. No way was I going back in there for a stupid booty.
Mom will kill me.
Maybe I could knock and not go inside. I pulled Laurie’s stroller backward down the hallway toward his office. I heard his voice through the door. “. . . asking a bunch of questions ’bout Brad.”
There was silence. I froze.
Then he said, “No way. Why would I tell her ’bout the fight?”
He paused again. I held my breath.
Then I heard him say, “Haven’t seen George since last week, but he’ll be here tomorrow for the delivery.”
I abandoned the booty and wheeled the stroller out of the restaurant. I hustled toward Jim’s car hoping to dodge a parking ticket. Shattered glass littered the street. The driver’s side window was broken.
Not again.
I swallowed the panic building in my chest. I glanced up and down the street. Empty.
Thank God. What would I have done anyway? Beat the burglar with my diaper bag?
I dialed Jim. Voice mail. I dialed Michelle. Voice mail. Why was no one around when you needed them?
A vehicle pulled in front of Jim’s car. A stocky balding man stepped out. He noted the glass on the street, then moved toward me. He reached into his pocket and produced a badge reading INSPECTOR PATRICK MCNEARNY. “Miss, I’m with SFPD. This your car?”
Ah. Miss again!
“Yeah.”
“Anything taken?”
“No. I . . . uh . . . I haven’t checked.”
I glanced over my shoulder into Jim’s car. Everything seemed to be in order. I leaned over the driver’s seat and pulled open the glove box. Papers were crumpled, as if someone had rummaged through it.
“It looks like someone went through this,” I said.
The officer nodded.
“My address is on the registration,” I said.
“They were probably looking for money. I’ll write a report for you. The best I can tell you is to file an insurance claim.” He pulled out a notebook. “Your name?”
“Kate Connolly.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Connolly?” He frowned, flipped through his book, and read an old entry.
My heart tightened. Could this officer be looking for George?
The officer scribbled something. “Is this car registered to you?”
“My husband, actually. My car . . .” I took a breath. “My car’s in the shop.”
I didn’t have the guts to tell him my car had been broken into outside of Michelle’s house. What if George was behind this? Was he looking for his bags? Would he really break into my car and Jim’s?
Was I getting paranoid?
Could it be a coincidence? I’d lived in San Francisco my entire life and had never had my car broken into. Now twice in two days?
The officer copied information off the registration. “Like I said, I suggest you file an insurance claim.” He handed the registration back to me, his eyes narrowing.
“Meter’s expired.”
I watched in silence as he crossed the street and pulled open the door to El Paraiso.
•CHAPTER SEVEN•
The Second Week—Crying for Assistance
I awoke, still groggy, to Laurie’s hunger cries at 3 A.M. I leaned over the bassinet and picked her up. She was soaked all the way through her little jammies.
I poked Jim. “You’re the night shift, remember?”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“She’s wet. She needs a full costume change.”
No answer.
“Jim! Wake up.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Laurie wailed. I put her right next to his ear. No movement.
“How can you sleep through this?”
Men!
I walked down the dark hall, to her nursery, bumping into the walls as I went. Somehow it seemed easier to get out of bed and change Laurie myself than try to get Jim up.