Chapter 13 #2
The door to 3C looked identical to all the others lining the dingy hallway—cheap wood with peeling numbers, deadbolt showing signs of recent replacement. But something about it raised the hair on her neck.
The worker’s key stuck slightly in the lock. “Dang thing’s always screwy.” He jiggled it with practiced motion until the mechanism clicked.
“We’ve got it from here,” Noah said smoothly, already palming a twenty that appeared from nowhere.
The worker hesitated, looking between them. “You’ll lock up after?”
“Scout’s honor.” Noah’s easy smile got him nowhere with this guy. But Sabrina appreciated it.
“Whatever. I’m on break.” The worker disappeared down the stairs, taking his cigarette stench and Noah’s twenty with him.
Noah gestured to the door with an exaggerated flourish. “Ladies first?”
“Such a gentleman.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress her answering grin. Sometimes his ridiculousness was exactly what a moment needed.
The apartment door swung open on protesting hinges.
Stale air carried traces of cheap air freshener and abandonment.
The walls created three distinct living spaces in the cramped quarters—mattresses lay in the living room, in the converted dining room and in the actual bedroom.
There were signs of a hasty departure everywhere.
“They left in a hurry,” Noah murmured, examining scattered papers near the door. He held up an envelope. “The mail’s still coming. But it’s all addressed to Camille Lancaster. Utility bills, bank statements and a hospital bill from last month. That’s pretty recent.”
Sabrina frowned. “Nothing for Annie?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Everything official is in Camille’s name.” He held up a rental agreement with Camille’s signature at the bottom.
“Did the maintenance guy get it wrong?”
Noah shrugged. “Could be. Might have been trying to give us the brush-off.”
Frustrated, Sabrina moved through the space with measured steps, cataloging details.
Three coffee mugs by the sink, one chipped but carefully glued back together.
A bulletin board covered in job listings, red circles around anything paying cash.
A stack of applications filled out in different handwriting.
What a far cry from most people’s world, where companies had websites and electronic submission processes. Everything here screamed, Leave no trail!
The kitchen told its own story. Store brand everything, except the prenatal vitamins lined up on the windowsill. Those were name brand, likely handed out by a free clinic. Three different kinds of peanut butter and a bottle of barbecue sauce but barely any real food.
Her throat tightened. She moved on.
The bathroom revealed more. Two different brands of shampoo—cheap stuff and one pretty bottle of an expensive brand, probably a gift. Makeup scattered across the counter, some high-end items mixed with drugstore brands. Little touches of luxury in a life stripped down to basics.
Noah appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the small space instantly. He even smelled good.
“Found something interesting,” he said, holding up a photo. Three young women squeezed together for a selfie, Annie in the middle. All smiling. All looking incredibly young.
“Happiness looks different in hindsight,” she muttered, more to herself than Noah. But his hand settled warm on her shoulder, and she let it stay there. Just for a moment.
“Annie must have been crashing here unofficially. Smart, if she was trying to stay under the radar,” Noah said and went back to the living room to continue his search.
The bedroom was last on Sabrina’s list. Clothes still hung in the closet—cheap polyester uniforms from various service jobs. A dress that must have been for interviews, price tag still attached. Something sat behind all the clothes.
Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed hangers aside.
It was a small shelving unit. And it was full of baby supplies.
Diapers, wipes, tiny clothes still with tags attached.
An unopened crib box leaned up against the back wall of the closet.
Someone had folded a pink blanket with painful precision.
She’d expected evidence of Annie’s life, maybe clues about where she’d gone. Not this punch to the chest that felt like free fall without a rope.
Never in a million years had she imagined Annie might have had a child somewhere. One who was wondering where her mother was.
The keening sound that came out of her mouth barely sounded human.
“Sabrina?” Noah’s concerned voice carried through the apartment as he came into the bedroom. “You okay?”
“Fine.” The word came out sharper than intended, but the last thing she needed was him cluing in that this whole scene was getting to her. “I was just…surprised.”
He crossed the room to look over her shoulder. His sharp inhale said he understood exactly what they were seeing.
“A baby,” he said softly. “Or one on the way.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. The perfectly folded blanket blurred in her vision. All that careful preparation, that hope for the future. Left behind, just like Annie.
Noah settled his arm around her waist, pulling her in for a comforting hug. She should shake him off, maintain some distance before he figured out that she was fighting back emotions she didn’t know how to name.
Instead, she relaxed against him. Just for a minute. Let his solid presence anchor her against the wave threatening to sweep her under.
She straightened, stepping away before he could burrow deeper under her skin. Though she feared it was far too late. “We need to find Camille Lancaster. She might know what happened.”
He caught her arm as she turned to leave. “Sabrina.”
She couldn’t look at him, not with the evidence of somebody else’s shattered dreams surrounding them. Would the coroner find that Annie had been pregnant? Or had one of the other girls living here been the mother of the baby?
“I’m fine.” Two could play the silent game. “Let’s just focus on the case.”
She’d learned early that vulnerability was just another word for target. Some things were better left unexamined, like the way finding evidence of a family in chaos hit her sideways.
Or why it bothered her so much that he wouldn’t talk about his father dating Susan.
She wasn’t supposed to care about that part. Just like she didn’t want him digging around in her emotional reaction to this scene, he probably had zero interest in exposing his own weaknesses.
But watching Noah process his emotional landmines in silence felt wrong. Like watching someone tackle a dangerous route without proper safety gear. She knew better. But opening that Pandora’s box meant admitting how much she’d started to invest in him. In them.
She pulled out her phone. Time to do what she did best—charge ahead and let momentum carry her past the dangerous emotional swamps that threatened to drag her under.
Behind her, Noah started methodically photographing the baby supplies.
They worked in silence, documenting the scene with practiced efficiency.
Her camera clicked through shots of the bulletin board, the job applications, the careful collection of prenatal vitamins.
Each photo was a brick in Annie’s life, hopefully building a whole that would help them understand how she’d ended up dead on a mountain in clothes that didn’t fit her surroundings.
“Receipt,” Noah called from the kitchen. “Food delivery from two weeks ago. Three meals.”
“She wasn’t alone,” Sabrina replied, examining a stack of magazines by the bed. Parenting guides, all of them. Some pages dog-eared, others marked with sticky notes. “They were planning for this baby or helping care for it. All of them.”
The weight of that settled between them. Three women, one baby, a collection of dreams folded as carefully as that pink blanket. Now one was dead, possibly murdered. It wasn’t a stretch to assume the others might be in danger.
Was that why they’d left in such a hurry?
“We need to find them.” Noah’s voice carried steel beneath the quiet. “Before—”
“I know.” She did. The clock was ticking, and not just for their investigation. Somewhere out there, a baby might need help. “We will.”
His answering nod felt like a promise. One she actually believed he could keep.
That was the dangerous thing about Noah Colton. He made her believe in impossible things. Made her want to reach for them.
Except they were just supposed to be investigating Annie Ross’s death. Not building a relationship.