• • •

John, Carrie had learned as soon as she’d had Ben, was uncomfortable around babies. He’d held his newborn son awkwardly, all elbows and shoulders, too delicate with him, never sure where to put his hands. But as soon as Ben had started moving, when he’d learned to crawl and roll a ball, John had stopped being afraid he would break. Quite the opposite. He’d toss him repeatedly in the air, making him laugh, throwing him so high it had made Carrie nervous, made her cry out. She supposed it was John’s sporty upbringing—everyone in his family an athlete—that made him like that. The whole clan would be arriving soon for Ben’s funeral, staying in a hotel together, a bank of rooms on the same floor, as if they couldn’t bear to be apart. They’d done the same for John’s grandfather’s funeral, for a cousin’s wedding. It was how they operated: separate but together, a team. And inevitably, someone would bring a Nerf ball and the hotel pool would be transformed into a leaping, shrieking mass of them. Moving, Carrie would think, watching them. They were all about motion.

So when John came into the kitchen while Danielle and Carrie were warming bottles and making coffee, they were both surprised by what he had to say.

“I guess we could find a way to keep him, right?”

“No, John,” Danielle said sharply, barely containing her horror.

“But no one’s looking for him,” he said.

Carrie measured coffee grounds, poured water, her back to the others, saying nothing.

“Doesn’t matter,” Danielle replied. “There will be questions eventually, questions you can’t answer. Haven’t you had enough media attention?”

“We could move,” he said simply.

“John, really,” Danielle said. She’d been summoned because Carrie was losing her grip on reality, and now… Was something in the water? What was happening to John?

The house phone rang shrilly. It was used so seldom, but John insisted they keep it for safety. John walked over to the handset to look at the caller ID.

“Maya Mercer,” he said.

“Don’t answer it,” Carrie said.

“She’ll just keep calling. You know she will.”

“You can’t talk to her,” Danielle said. “What if she hears the baby? What if he cries?”

John blinked. “You tell her a friend is over.”

The phone stopped ringing, and in a few seconds, the message light flashed. Danielle picked up the car seat. “That’s it. This baby is going to Safe Cradle. Now, one of you, hand over your keys.”

John looked at his wife for a second, just a second, before he reached in his pocket and fished out his car key.