Everybody in town knows me as Jen Young. They know I’m single, and that I don’t have children, so openly carrying one through town probably isn’t the best idea.
In the end, I use a reusable cloth grocery bag. It’s not as big as I’d like, but it does the trick.
I stuff the bottom with two towels—my last two clean towels—and set Star on top.
I throw on a gray sweatshirt, so the bagginess of the sweatshirt will conceal the SIG at the small of my back.
I’ve already stuffed the duffel and its sour shit-stained contents in a garbage bag. My first impulse is to drop the garbage bag in one of the dumpsters when I leave the apartment building, but part of me wants to hold on to it for now. It’s evidence, after all, and maybe this will get to the point that the police will need to take over. In that case, I don’t want to screw up the chain of evidence more than I already have.
I have a car—an ’02 Honda Civic—but I don’t use it much, and besides, we’re only going five blocks. Not even a quarter mile.
It’s just past seven o’clock and the early Saturday morning is cool and crisp, the wide sky a pale blue.
I walk holding the grocery bag in my left hand, swinging it slightly to give Star that rocking sensation. I keep my right hand free in case I have to reach for the gun. I don’t expect I will, but last night I didn’t expect to encounter a girl covered in blood either, so better safe than sorry.
Alden is slowly waking. As it’s the weekend, most people are still home. Not much traffic is moving about. Two blocks ahead, I smell the smoker over at Benny’s BBQ. The place doesn’t open until noon but they’re already smoking the meat.
Meredith rents a two-bedroom ranch house on High Street. The place is a dump, but it’s all Meredith can afford on her salary as a waitress. She’s twenty-two years old, has two kids, and is studying to become a phlebotomist. Neither of the kids’ fathers are in the picture, and Meredith’s mom doesn’t help more than what’s required. There’s some resentment there for some reason, at least from what I’ve been able to gather. I’m not close to Meredith, but we get along fine at work. She seems like a good mother, which is the main reason I thought of her late last night while I knelt over the duffel bag. The other reason is that Meredith barely makes ends meet so she’s usually desperate for extra cash.
She stands in the doorway, holding her own baby in her arms. She wipes the sleep from her eyes before she frowns at the folded wad of twenties I’m holding out to her.
“I’m confused—how much did you say?”
“Three hundred dollars.”
“For just a couple hours of my time?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you want me to do?”
Before I can answer, the pacifier falls from Star’s mouth, and she starts to fuss.
Meredith’s eyes immediately dart down at the grocery bag.
“Is that—”
I cut her off.
“Can I come inside?”
Before she can answer, I push my way inside, sidestepping Meredith who stands there stunned.
She says, “Is that a baby? Where’d you get a baby?”
Before I can say anything, a patter of footsteps charges toward us, and Meredith’s other son—five-year-old Johnny—rushes up to his mom and grabs onto her leg.
“Pancakes!”
“Johnny, I told you not now.”
“Pancakes!”
“Johnny, I said not now!”
There’s more bite in her tone than she probably intended, and Johnny’s face closes up at once. He looks almost ashen, and his bottom lip starts to tremble, and Meredith, probably sensing an oncoming tantrum, issues a heavy sigh.
“Yes, fine, pancakes. Now go watch cartoons and leave us be.”
Johnny’s face lights up, and he gives me a sort of triumphant smile before tearing off toward the living room.
Meredith shakes her head at me.
“Whatever you do, don’t ever have kids.”
But then she pauses, looking down again at the grocery bag.
“Whose baby is that, anyway?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not sure. Look, Meredith, the less you know, the better.”
The absurdity of my statement nearly causes Meredith to bark out a laugh.
“You’re joking, right? You come here first thing in the morning and offer me three hundred dollars to … do what, exactly?”
“Watch Star for a couple hours.”
“Star?”
“That’s what I’m calling her.”
“You don’t know her real name?”
“Let’s just say I found her last night.”
“Found her where?”
“Again: the less you know, the better.”
Holding her younger son, she releases a heavy breath.
“I already have two kids of my own to deal with.”
“I know. And normally I wouldn’t bother you, but I’m in a bind.”
“What do you want me to do with her?”
“Feed her. Give her a bath. Put her in a diaper and clothes. Just keep an eye on her until I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“The less you know, Meredith.”
“Shit, Jen. I don’t know. This sounds shady as fuck.”
“It is. But it’s also worth three hundred dollars of your time.”
“Three hundred dollars.”
“Yes.”
She stares down at the folded twenties in my hand.
“Okay. When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“But it’ll just be a couple hours?”
“Yes.”
“Is it okay with you if I call my mom to come over and give me a hand?”
“I’d prefer you don’t. No offense, but your mom seems to be a gossip, and right now it’s best if not many people know about this.”
Meredith bites her lower lip, gazing down at the bag again.
“This isn’t, like, against the law, is it?”
“No.”
At least, I’m pretty sure it’s not. Not as far as Meredith is concerned, anyway. She’s just taking care of a baby. She doesn’t know the whole story. She doesn’t need to know.
Beyond the sound of Saturday morning cartoons from the living room, Johnny
