Chapter Five
Emily
“This is the place? Here?”
Even though I can see the truck right in front of me, complete with the same motorcycle in back as I saw before, my eyes don’t want to believe it. Here is not where I thought here would be.
“I checked that hotel. Then checked the other ones nearby, and there was nothing. I just got lucky that I drove by this place and saw it.”
“But why here?”
“Why a vacant home and not a crappy motel? Maybe he doesn’t want to share his bed with a few thousand bedbugs, Em.”
A light flicks on in the living room of the home, which is a small, one-bedroom, single story cottage. His broad-shouldered shadow moves in front of the windows, and it’s clear he’s cradling the baby, but in an awkward way. Something twinges inside me. Concern, I think. He’s broken into a vacant home and he’s got a sick baby. Something isn’t right. The baby could be in danger, and I need to find out more about what’s going on.
“We need to get closer. See what he’s up to.”
“I never figured you to be the type to go after a single dad, Em,” Sophie says. “Especially after dealing with Jay and all his crap. Why not take an easy way to get back into the dating pool, like find yourself a dumb frat boy or something? A nice, quick lay to get that creepy asshole out of your system.”
“I wish it were that easy.”
“It can be. If you need help, I can give you the numbers of a couple of guys who can help you out.”
“A couple?”
“Yeah. Well, more like three or four. They usually work as a group.”
“As in…?”
“As in, they take that old saying ‘many hands make light work’ and they’ll apply it to helping you get Jay out of your system.”
“I don’t think a gangbang is the answer to my problem, Sophie,” I say, my eyes going back to the shadow in the window as Nick — or whatever his real name is — awkwardly bounces the baby in his arms. “But thanks for thinking of me. I appreciate it.”
“So what’s the real play here? Do you want to go knock on the door and ask the stranger that you met for one minute and then decided to stalk back to the vacant home that he’s, probably, illegally occupying if you can do a welfare check on the baby he’s taking care of?” She says.
“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe you need to just forget about this guy and let me call Dante, Ethan, and Will for you.”
Maybe she’s right. Not about the group sex, but about this being a ludicrous idea.
I shake my head.
No. I can’t forget how Nick looked. Aside from being handsome and dangerous, he looked haunted. Like he was close to the breaking point, and one thing going wrong could put him in a terrible place. Seeing that baby in there in his arms means there’s no way I can just walk away. I have to know more.
The shadow in the living room moves away from the window, and I seize my chance.
“You go around back,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
“Go around and just look through the windows. See what you can see.”
“What exactly am I looking for while executing this terrible idea?”
“Anything that might be dangerous or might show that the baby in there is in trouble.”
Sophie rolls her eyes but nods, and I watch as she sneaks around the side of the house, her movements surprisingly stealthy. My heart is pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. This is crazy, but I can't shake off the feeling that something's very wrong.
I take a deep breath and inch closer to the front door. The dim light from inside casts eerie shadows across the porch, and I strain my ears to catch any sounds from within. I hear muffled cooing and hushed whispers—Nick's voice, maybe soothing the baby.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, I edge along the side of the house toward another window. As I peer inside, my breath catches in my throat. The room is sparsely furnished, clearly not lived in for quite some time. Nick stands in the middle, rocking the baby with a worried expression etched on his face. Sweat beads on his forehead; he's stressed out of his mind.
A loud creak from behind sends me into a mild panic. Moments later, Sophie reappears, shaking her head. "I didn't see anything dangerous," she whispers harshly. "But this place gives me the creeps."
“Me too.”
Strange and dangerous man determined to stay off the radar, holed up in a vacant house with a sick baby? It isn’t normal, or anywhere close to it.
But what can I do?
Call CPS, maybe. Except who knows how he’d react? What if Nick did something rash, or hurt someone, or just ran off with that baby and put himself, and it, in an even worse situation?
“What do we do?” Sophie says.
“I don’t know. I need a second to think. You’re sure you didn’t see anything off?”
Maybe the cops are an option. They might be able to handle Nick. Though, the second I have that idea, I dismiss it. I know the Ironwood Falls PD, most everyone does, since it’s a small town, and there’s only one officer on the force that I’d trust to handle this situation, especially since it involves a baby, and there’s no way to guarantee she’d be the one they send.
“I’m sure. The window just looked in to the kitchen, and he didn’t have much. There was a bowl of cereal, a bottle of whiskey, and a gun, nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“A gun? That didn’t strike you as odd?”
“It’s just a tool, just like anything else. Don’t go getting up on a soapbox, Em, just because the hot guy — and he is hot, I mean, damn, I got a good look at his butt when he passed by the kitchen entryway and I actually shivered — is probably a responsible gun owner. Now is not the time for preachiness.”
“Whiskey, guns—”
“Gun, singular. I only saw one. Don’t go putting words into my mouth.”
“A gun, and alcohol, and a baby, all in a vacant house that he’s probably illegally occupying.” The more I say it out loud, the more I realize I need to call the cops. Something strange is going on here, and that baby could be in danger. Maybe I can hang around the scene when they arrive and help them take care of the little one. “Anything else I’m missing?”
She shrugs. “Again, it all seemed fine to me, but opinions differ. Why don’t you go see for yourself?”
“Fine. Let’s go look through the window, so I can at least know everything that’s in there before I call this in to the cops,” I say, while wishing Sophie and I didn’t have such vastly opposing views of what comprised a normal Friday night.
“The cops? Shit. I was not prepared for that. If you’re going to call the cops, hold on for a second,” Sophie says, reaching into a pocket and tossing a small baggie into a hedge. “OK, we’re good.”
“What was that?”
“It’s Friday night, Em, lay off.”
“Whatever.”
Sophie and I creep back around the house, careful not to make any noise. The oppressive silence of the night surrounds us as we approach the window again. I peer inside, seeing Nick’s shadow moving around in the living room, while I visually scout the kitchen’s interior, spotting not just the whiskey and gun that she mentioned — a pistol, disassembled on the small kitchen table, sitting on a towel, with cleaning tools sitting around it — but at least two large, mean-looking knives on the table as well.
“Why didn’t you mention the knives?”
Sophie shrugs. “Knives belong in kitchens, that’s sort of their point, and you asked if I saw anything off, which I don’t consider knives in kitchens to be off. Are you going to lecture me again?”
My voice rises, but I can’t help it. Why did I bring Sophie along? “Kitchen knives in a kitchen would be normal, but those knives on his table are knives for killing people.”
She reaches behind her back and takes out something that looks a lot like the knives I saw on Nick’s kitchen table, only a little smaller. With a flick of her wrist, she opens it, revealing a long, nasty-looking blade. “I have one and I haven’t killed anyone… that you know about.” She winks. “Just kidding about that. No one that I’ve stabbed has died.”
Oh yeah, this is why. Because, when it comes to getting into, and out of, crazy situations, Sophie is the best.
“Fair point,” I say.
I’m about to say more, but suddenly, the back door leading from the kitchen flies open and Nick steps out onto the back porch. His eyes bore right into mine, freezing me in place.
Though, even if his eyes weren’t petrifying me, the gun in his hand would.
His voice is dark, cold, and sends such a shiver down my spine that I want to throw up from the intensity.
“You ladies sure make a lot of noise.” His eyes land on me, and he points the gun right at my chest. “You’re shivering. You must be cold. Why don’t you both come on inside and finish your conversation?”