“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”
The baby fussed a little, and Amy picked her up. “You can’t tell my mother I was here.”
“Okay.”
“Or my stepfather.” She shot to her feet, Helena in her arms. “Especially him.”
The bitterness in her voice told Mercy everything she needed to know. “Okay.”
“Promise.” She bounced the startled baby against her chest. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
“I promise.” Mercy fought the urge to reach for the child. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Amy wound down the bouncing to a slow swaying. Helena giggled.
Time to take the plunge, Mercy thought. “What about the father?” she asked gently.
“No.” The girl’s voice was firm.
“Not a good guy?”
Amy shut the old book and returned it to the shelf. “He’s not a bad guy. I mean, I love him. And he loves Helena.” She shook her head. “But he’s all stage-five clinger now.”
“How’s that?”
“It started out fine.” She settled onto the sofa, holding Helena on her lap. “Adam is an artist. Real creative. Real smart. A genius, you know?” She paused. “You should see the sculptures he makes. Out of stones and salvage and wood. Recycled art, it’s called.”
“Art trouvé,” said Mercy.
“Yeah. Of course he only uses reclaimed wood. He loves trees.”
Mercy sat on the arm of the couch. “Trees?”
“He’s totally into saving the woods. One tree at a time.” Amy smiled. “That’s what he says. We put up posters, held rallies, planted trees. Disease-resistant elm trees. To save the forest.”
“That sounds like good work.”
“It was.” Amy’s smile faded. “But after Helena was born, Adam wanted to do more. He said we had to live off the grid.”
“Off the grid?”
“Way off the grid. Deep into nowhere. He wouldn’t let us leave. We were practically prisoners.”
“Stage-five clinger.”
“Yeah.” Amy kissed the top of her baby’s head. “It’s so not fair. He gets all jealous when he’s the one with all the crazy exes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Groupies. They’re the worst.”
“Adam has groupies?”
“Art lovers, he said.” Amy rolled her eyes. “Always hanging around, throwing themselves at him, trying to sleep with him. Like some of his genius will rub off on them.” She leaned in toward Mercy, cradling Helena’s small head with her palm. “When I first met Adam, he was such a ho. But then we got together, and he stopped hooking up with them. They weren’t too happy about it. They all hated me.”
“That must have been hard.”
“Yeah. But eventually they all went away. I was glad at first, because I wanted him all to myself. He was so sweet, you know?”
Mercy nodded. She did know.
“But then we had Helena, and he changed. It started getting really weird. I just had to get us out of there.” She leaned back and rocked the child in her arms.
“Is that why you left the baby in the woods?” Mercy held her breath, hoping for an answer that she—and Child Protective Services—could accept.
“I thought we could slip away from Adam on our bird-watching walk. Lately that’s the only time he lets us out of the compound. He says walks are good for the baby. We stay off-trail, mostly in the blowdown area, where hikers don’t usually go. He likes hiding from everybody.” She looked at Mercy. “But we see you and Elvis every morning. Like clockwork.”
“Really? I never realized…” Some trained investigator she was.
“We keep out of sight, so you probably never saw us.” Amy laughed. “But Elvis finds us off-trail and comes and says hello. He likes the baby.”
Mercy smiled. “Yes, he does.” She suspected the shepherd was better than she was at practically everything. “How did you get away from Adam?”
“Sometimes he gets all inspired with some plans for his art and tells us to go back to the compound on our own. He’s very secretive about his work. Doesn’t like anybody to see it before it’s finished. I figured the next time that happened, and he told us to go back without him, we would just not go back, you know? Head for Route 7 instead. Hitchhike.” Amy hesitated.
“But something went wrong.”
“Max came with us.”
“Max?”
“He’s Adam’s best friend. An artist like him, only creepier.” Amy frowned.
“You don’t like him.”
“He makes me nervous.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t think he likes me very much. Or Helena. He’s not good with babies.” Amy nuzzled her daughter, who was dozing off again. “He calls us a distraction.”
“Back to what happened in the woods,” Mercy said gently.
“Oh yeah.” Amy looked at her. “Adam told me to take the baby and go back to the camp. I headed off that way with Helena, but then double-backed and started for Route 7. I heard Max and Adam fighting. Max was yelling something about me and the baby. I got scared and cut through the blowdown to get away from them. Away from Max. I heard someone behind me, and I figured it was him. I saw Elvis on the other side of the blowdown and knew Helena would be safe with him. So I put her down in the clearing and ran the other way.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It sounds like you did the right thing.” That was all Mercy needed to know. Now she could text Troy and tell him Amy was here, and that the baby was safe.
Elvis sat up, ears perked. He bolted for the front door, in a frenzy of barking.
“What’s wrong?” The young mother shrunk back against the bookcases, shielding her little girl’s head with her pale hands.
“Stay here.” Mercy went to the front window and saw a forest-green truck making its way up the long drive to the cabin.
“Who is it?” Amy was right behind her, bouncing little Helena on her hip.
“Troy Warner.”
“Who’s he?”
“The game warden.”
“Adam says all cops are bad news.” Amy backed up away from the window, out of sight. “Especially game wardens. Adam says no one has the right to police the woods.”
That was an argument Mercy had no time to refute. “We should tell Warner that Helena is safe.”
“Don’t let him in. Please.” Amy went back to the couch with the baby and pulled the quilts up around them, as if to hide.
Mercy followed her. Elvis stood his ground at the threshold, noisy as ever.
“There’s an AMBER Alert out on the baby. You could get in big trouble if we don’t talk to him. I could get in big trouble.”
“I don’t know.”
“I know Troy Warner. He’s a good guy. With a good dog.” Mercy snapped her fingers. “Quiet, Elvis.”
The shepherd kept on barking and she could hear Susie Bear barking back as the truck approached the house.
“You don’t have to answer the door.”
“He knows we’re home. He’s not going to just give up and leave.” Her Jeep was parked outside and she knew the game warden could hear Elvis, so he would figure that she was here, too, somewhere. He’d just wait them out. It’s what she would do.
“Send him away.”
“We can trust him, you’ll see.”
Amy frowned. “Whatever.”