4. My Neighbor is a Kidnapper
4
My Neighbor is a Kidnapper
Nurse: the first person you see after saying, ‘Hold my beer and watch this!’
—Unknown
Natalie
There was a goat in the hallway.
I blinked twice, sure that I was hallucinating. I really did need to get to sleep. What had been in that last cup of coffee?
I lived in a high-end apartment building with a doorman and security. This was supposed to be a pet-free floor, although I knew that Mr. Salvador down the hallway often babysat his niece’s puppy for long weekends. No one ever minded because the puppy was adorable.
But a goat was something all together different. Especially because it was trying to eat the carpet at the end of the hallway. For a moment, I considered just walking into my apartment and pretending I never saw the goat.
But my stupid morality wouldn’t let me. Or my curiosity. I needed to know why there was a goat in the hallway and if this was going to become a regular occurrence.
“What in the world are you doing here?” I softly cooed, coming up to the goat. It seemed friendly enough. It didn’t try to run away as I came closer. A collar looped its neck and a leash hung on the floor. I picked it up and the goat didn’t object.
She was cute, in a creepy demonic way. I kind of liked the strange shape of her pupils and the fact that she instantly leaned into me for butt scratches.
“You’re just a big goofy puppy, aren’t you?” I asked her. She wagged her little floofy tail and bleated, very clearly asking me to continue giving her scratches. “Well, let’s figure out where you belong because I don’t want you out here getting in trouble.”
I glanced up and down the open hallway. Only one door was open. The football player. I rolled my eyes.
Of course he would have a goat. It was probably for some fresh goat’s milk for muscle building or something ridiculous like that. We weren’t supposed to have pets, let alone farm animals here, but of course the famous football player wouldn’t follow the rules.
Why would he? He was famous. He had enough money to do anything. Why follow the rules?
The goat nibbled gently on my scrub pant leg and looked up at me. She bleated softly again, as if she was saying, “Hey, you don’t know the guy. He’s not that bad.”
I sighed. “Well, he left you out here. I don’t know why you’re defending him.”
She looked at me, and I swear she sighed.
Great. Now I was having complete nonsensical conversations with a goat. Did that mean I needed more coffee or less?
I needed sleep, I decided. I tugged on her leash, and the goat obediently started following me back to the open door. At least she seemed to be well-trained.
Be nice, I told myself as I approached the open door. You’ve seen weirder stuff. Just give the man his goat and go to bed. It will absolutely count as a good deed for the day and you can enjoy that karma later.
I didn’t know much about the guy other than he played for the NFL. I’d ridden up on the elevator with him a few times, but I tried to avoid him. Most of the time he seemed happy to keep to himself, but then I’d hear about him on the news for being at some crazy party and having a new girlfriend every other weekend.
Definitely not the type of guy I wanted to be around.
Not that I had any other prospects at the moment, but there was more than enough drama in my life working in the ER and prepping for school. Dating a high-profile player did not sound like something I wanted to entangle myself in.
Two men stood inside the apartment. One was tall, muscled, and looked like a football player. The other was around the same age, but without the “I’m in the NFL and bowl people over for a living” look. Their backs were to me, both of them bent over a phone. I could hear a woman’s voice instructing the watcher to be gentle with the teats, but use a strong firm pressure.
Still not the weirdest part of my night at least.
I knocked on the open door and cleared my throat. Both men looked up and turned around in surprise.
The football player had a baby in his arms. A little baby- probably only a few months old.
That seemed like something that should have come up on that sports show my patient was watching this morning. I knew he wasn’t married. Maybe he was just babysitting. Or maybe it was the other man’s baby?
“Uh, are you missing a goat?” I asked, holding up the leash with the goat.
“How did she get out again?” The football guy looked at his friend in surprise. “I thought it was too quiet in here. We are going to have to watch that door better.”
“Be sure to praise your mama as you milk her and tell her that she is doing a good job. Even if she doesn’t speak English, your little mama will know that she is doing a good job,” the phone blared. “Mamas give good milk.”
Luckily, I could now see a video of a goat being milked on the screen or that video would have been very strange. The smaller man quickly shut off the phone, but not before his cheeks darkened.
I walked into the apartment, leading my new goat friend through the door and into the apartment foyer.
His apartment was much bigger and nicer than mine. My entrance area only had enough space to store two pairs of shoes. His could fit an entire shoe store. The open concept kitchen to the left was full of stainless steel appliances, while mine had an old fridge that didn’t have an ice-maker. A huge leather couch with matching recliner sat in front of a TV big enough to charge movie theater prices and several doors leading off to other rooms.
But what I really noticed was the lack of baby things. I knew several people with babies. Their houses were always full of toys, diaper boxes, high chairs, and baby accessories. Even when they cleaned up for guests, there was always evidence that a small human lived in the space. There wasn’t anything for the baby in this apartment.
No bottles on the counter. Just shaker bottles and protein drink mixes. No diaper boxes stacked by the door, just regular grocery boxes. The only diapers I could see were a package of swim diapers for a six-month-old. No diaper bag.
Nothing indicating that this baby was supposed to be here or belonged to either of these men.
“I’m sure you’ll see it next time.” The cop’s voice echoed in my mind.
Was it just my imagination, or did the football player look uncomfortable holding the baby?
Fuck.
“So, why do you have a goat?” I asked, hoping I sounded nonchalant. The goat was currently leaning against my leg as she grazed on an empty cardboard box in the recycling bin.
“For the milk,” the smaller guy replied. “It’s the closest thing to human milk there is.”
It took a second for my brain to register what he said. Despite working in the ER and hearing lots of random facts, this one took me by surprise.
“You mean other than formula, right?” I asked, hoping that maybe they were just a really unique gay couple that was using alternative medicine and diet to make sure that their precious baby had the most expensive options to thrive.
The smaller man paled. “Formula?”
“I mean, yeah, in the 1700’s, goats’ milk was a great substitute,” I continued. “These days though, most people just use formula.”
“Formula would definitely be easier than trying to figure out how to milk a goat,” Football Guy replied, giving Smaller Guy an annoyed glare. Smaller Guy gave him a “well, you aren’t doing any better” face right back.
The alarm bells going off in my head started to get louder. Did these two knuckleheads really think they could just milk a goat and feed it to a baby?
Considering there was a goat trying to nibble on my shoes and no sign of formula in the house, I was more than just a little suspicious.
“I’m sure you’ll see it next time.”
“You don’t have any formula for the baby?” I asked, making sure that I wasn’t reading the situation wrong.
“Yet. We don’t have any formula yet,” Football Guy clarified.
“On it, Boss. Formula.” Smaller Guy stuffed his phone in his pocket and took two steps toward the door before pausing and looking at me. “Do you have a recommended brand?”
“For this baby?” I pointed to the bundle in Football Guy’s arms. “How old is it?”
“Um, newish?” Smaller Guy shrugged.
The alarm bells were clanging in my mind now. He hadn’t bothered to correct the gender. He didn’t know the age.
“Infant formula. It should say 0-12 months on the container,” I advised, trying to remember what I’d seen at my friend’s house with a new baby. “You should probably look to see if there’s a pre-mixed kind.”
Lord knew what these two idiots would do if they had to mix it themselves. I took a breath. Hopefully, I just didn’t know the entire situation. Hopefully, this was an emergency situation and they weren’t really in charge of taking care of an infant. Maybe the mom was a friend and had just gotten out of a bad situation so that’s why there wasn’t any baby stuff.
“I’m sure you’ll see it next time.”
“You should probably get some more diapers, too,” I added, pointing at the package of swim diapers on the table. “Real ones. Not swim diapers. I’d guess a size one or two. And some wipes to go with them.”
“Size one diapers. Wipes. Formula,” Smaller Guy mumbled, clearly making a list in his head. He gave me a polite nod and rushed out the door, leaving me with Football Guy holding a baby, and a goat now trying to eat my pant leg.
“So, where do you want the goat”“ I asked, lifting the dog leash. It didn’t look like they had anything in place for the goat either.
“Um... the office?” Football Guy offered, looking around the room. “She’ll be fine in there.”
He led me to one of the closed doors, pushing it open. It was a very nice office with an expensive looking desk, chair, and computer.
“Are you sure?” I asked, glancing at the goat. “She is going to eat everything in here.”
“She doesn’t look hungry,” the man said with a shrug.
“She was eating the carpet in the hallway. She is a goat. She’ll eat your computer,” I warned.
“Goats can eat computers?” His eyes widened and he moved to block the goat from the office.
“I know they eat tin cans,” I replied. “Did you buy a goat without knowing what they eat?”
Football Guy shifted his feet uncomfortably.
“I didn’t buy the goat,” he informed me, lifting his chin. “Alex did.”
Alex must be Smaller Guy who had run off to buy diapers and formula.
“So, is this your baby or his?” I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
“You can put the goat in the guest bathroom.” Football Guy closed the door to the office and opened one a little further down. It was a nice size room with a tub. The shower curtain was the Omaha Twister’s emblem. “If she eats all the TP, I have extra.”
I pulled the leash, putting the goat into the bathroom. She ignored the toilet paper and went straight for one of the fluffy white towels hanging on the wall.
“I didn’t like those towels anyway,” Football Guy said, closing the door and trapping the goat in the bathroom. “Thanks so much for your help. You can head back home and don’t worry about us.”
“I’m sure you’ll see it next time.”
There was no way I was leaving this baby alone now.
The baby started to cry. It was the classic “neh” sound made to break a mother’s heart.
“Oh, she’s hungry,” I said, stepping closer to him.
“You can tell that from her cry?” He looked down at the baby in his arms, his dark eyebrows creasing his attractive features.
“I worked in the NICU before I switched to the ER,” I explained. “The hungry cry has a ‘Neh’ sound at the beginning. Also, see her mouth? She’s looking for the nipple to suck on.”
I wanted to take the baby from him and run all the way to the ER to get her someplace safe. Every bone in my body told me that this baby was not supposed to be here. But this man was much bigger than me. Much bigger. He was huge. I had to be careful. I had to do this right or the baby and I could end up in serious trouble.
“Well, Alex should be back in a few minutes with the formula.” He looked down at the baby and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll get you something to eat, promise.”
“Is she yours?” I asked again. “How old is she?”
“She’s mine,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the baby. “And she’s only a few months old.”
Despite the sweet look on his face, all I wanted to do was grab that baby and run. But I wasn’t sure how far I would get. He wasn’t set up to be a parent. Was this an illegal adoption? A custody battle gone bad? A kidnapping?
There was a crash from the bathroom.
“Oh boy,” he groaned. “Well, at least I know what the goat is doing.”
“I can hold her while you go check on the goat,” I offered. It was only partially because I was a good person. It was also my chance to check out the baby and make sure she was healthy. It was my chance to make sure that the horrible twisting feeling in my gut wasn’t real.
But my gut was usually right.
He paused, holding the little girl close to his chest. “You said you’re a nurse?”
I nodded. “And I worked for six months in the NICU. I know how to take care of babies. I promise.”
He chewed his lip, considering if he could trust me. There was another crash from the bathroom, this time with a loud thud and the sound of liquid. He winced.
“Just... don’t leave the living room.” He looked down at the infant in his arms, as if unsure that he wanted to hand her off to me. My heart warmed a little at his protectiveness.
“I won’t go anywhere,” I promised, holding out my arms to take her.
He sighed, glancing back toward the strange noises coming from the bathroom before moving in close to me. With absolute gentleness, he carefully handed her over to me, making sure that she was securely in my arms before letting go of her. He looked me over once I had her cradled into me, obviously judging if I was going to suddenly drop her and he would need to dive in and rescue her. The sound of hooves on tile echoed out of the bathroom, making me think the goat had jumped up onto the sink.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised before dashing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him so the goat couldn’t escape. I drifted back to the living room, looking around at his very nice apartment. The guy was loaded. Everything was top of line and nice.
But I wasn’t here to see his swanky apartment. I snuggled the little girl into me and she cooed with delight. Her delicate dark hair smelled like baby shampoo and warm milk. I inhaled deeply, soaking up the sweet baby smell. I’d read somewhere that it was coded into our DNA to think babies smelled good and I wasn’t about to disagree with that science. She had the good baby smell that I could sniff all day. It was definitely encoded into my DNA to enjoy them.
I did a quick assessment on the baby. Overall, the baby looked good and healthy. She was well-fed with bright eyes and good movement. I guessed she was somewhere around three months given that she responded to my silly faces with smiles, although she was definitely very hungry. She kept trying to snuggle into my shirt, hoping to find the good stuff.
“Sorry little one,” I whispered. “There isn’t anything there. Hopefully your uncle will be back with some food for you in a minute.”
My stomach twisted again. That man wasn’t her uncle. Uncles knew to feed babies formula. The little girl’s mouth opened and shut as she rooted for something to eat. Maybe there was a pacifier around here somewhere? I didn’t see any on the very clean kitchen counters. Luckily, she found her hand and sucked hard at it. I hoped that the other guy returned soon with some food for her. The fact that there wasn’t any was worrying me.
“He’s just clueless,” I told myself, although I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince. There was something very off about what was going on here.
Suddenly, my arm was warm and wet. I looked down to see the baby leaking pee straight out of the diaper. The entire front half of her onesie was soaked and leaking onto my arm.
I sighed. At least at work I got paid when someone peed on me.
I looked around the room for a stack of diapers. I had changed many an infant in my nursing days and figured it was the least I could do for this very confused little family. I could hear her dad yelling at the goat and crashes as things fell in the bathroom. I heard what sounded like a shampoo bottle, the water running, and the rip of what I could only assume was the shower curtain. That goat was giving him a run for his money.
“No, you can’t eat the shower curtain! Or the shower rod? How about some water instead? No, not soap!”
I shook my head and continued looking. I finally saw a plastic package, but it was full of swim diapers. The apartment was spotless, and there wasn’t a single diaper bag to be seen. There was no clear spot for me to change a diaper either. There was only a box on the table with a blanket in it and a tiny pack of swim diapers. There was nothing else that even looked like it could be for a baby.
“Oh... no...” I groaned, that twisting feeling getting worse. I peeked at the little girl’s diaper, hoping that it wasn’t going to be a swim diaper. But no. The cute little blue and green diaper that wasn’t meant to hold liquid was the reason my arm was now wet. There was no food for this baby. There were no diapers. There were no supplies.
This wasn’t his baby.
Maybe there was a reasonable explanation. Maybe there was a good reason that this man was completely and utterly unprepared to even babysit a baby.
The police officer’s words echoed in my mind. That I would do better next time.
My hand went to my pocket and immediately found the policeman’s business card. I didn’t even have to look for it. It was just in my hand. It was like fate was telling me that I could help this little girl. The universe was making it easy for me to do the right thing. I knew what I needed to do. This little girl needed my help. She needed me to be the voice she didn’t have yet.
Maybe this guy was just a clueless dad. Maybe he’d just gotten custody and didn’t have a clue. Maybe he was just babysitting.
But this baby was old enough that she should have supplies, even if he was just babysitting. This baby was hungry and had no food. There were no diapers. There were no wipes. There was nothing to indicate that a baby lived in this apartment at all. The things needed to care for an infant just weren’t here. This was not a safe place for her to be in.
Better safe than sorry. If I didn’t call, I would worry and feel awful about potentially leaving a defenseless child in a terrible situation. If he was just a babysitter, it would easily be cleared up. No harm, no foul, right?
My phone was out and I was dialing before I had time to stop. I didn’t have much time before the fake-dad came back from dealing with the goat. I had to get this sweet little baby help before something bad happened to her.
The detective answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Officer Brown. It’s Natalie Parker, the nurse from the ER today. I think I may have another baby in trouble situation.”