Cry in the Night

by Colleen Coble

  “Calm down, Sara,” Bree said. “Maybe a friend stopped over.” She didn’t know Pia well. She was in her midtwenties and was the Children’s Protective Services employee who had done the home study required for Bree and Kade to become foster parents. It wasn’t unusual to see her scooting around town with her Mini Cooper crammed with children.

  “Could we get Samson to look for her?” Sara asked, wringing her hands. “This isn’t like Pia.”

  Bree bit her lip. “We’ve had a bit of an upheaval this afternoon, and I hate to leave. Someone tried to take my son.”

  Sara’s gaze went to Davy. “Oh no! Did you catch the guy?”

  Maybe she could get Naomi to go on the search. “Not yet. Listen, let me see if I can get some members of my team to find her.” She grabbed the phone and made a few calls. Naomi didn’t answer, and Bree’s other three searchers were either out of town or tied up.

  Kade interpreted the way she slowly set the phone down. He stepped to her side and slipped his arm around her. “Go ahead, babe. You know I’ll take good care of him.”

  She stubbornly held on to her anger, even though she knew he’d give his life for her son. “I don’t want to leave.”

  He shrugged. “Do what you do best. I’ll lock up the house. He won’t be alone for a second.”

  She knew she needed to go. Pia could be in trouble, and there was no one else. “Call me if anything happens, anything at all.”

  “I will.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Be careful.”

  She had yet to tell him what the doctor said. Turning to Sara, she called, “It’s all set. My husband will keep an eye on our boy.” Bree snapped her fingers at Samson. “Let me get my dog ready.”

  She went to a closet and pulled out a backpack and a vest. Samson began to prance around the living room with his tail held high. He crouched and barked, then ran to Bree. She slipped the vest over his head. “Sara, did you think to bring an article of clothing that belongs to Pia?”

  Sara nodded. “I put it in a paper bag, is that okay?”

  “Perfect. Did you leave it in the car?”

  “Yes, I’ll go get it.” The older woman hurried toward the door.

  Bree slipped into her coat, grabbed her backpack, then clipped a leash to Samson’s collar. He strained eagerly toward the door and practically dragged her onto the porch. She frowned at the quickly falling darkness. It would be pitch black by the time they got back to the woods. The dog leaped into the backseat as soon as she opened the door.

  Sara handed the bag to Bree. “I got socks from the laundry basket.”

  “I think we should start at Pia’s house, since it looks like she went out on her skis,” Bree said. “Shall we ride together?”

  “I’d better take my car separately in case she’s hurt and I need to stay at the hospital with her,” Sara said. She hopped into her Lexus.

  Bree accelerated the Jeep down the driveway after her. Several men were carving ice sculptures in the park she passed. One was the spitting image of Samson. “Hey, boy, there you are,” she told him. He woofed, then laid his head on her shoulder.

  The thermometer read five degrees, even colder with the wind chill. They reached Pia’s cottage at the edge of the Ottawa National Forest. The one-bedroom home was white with green shutters and sat back off the road. Sara pulled into the driveway and parked the car. The red Jeep rolled to a stop behind it. It was nearly dark.

  Sara clambered out and ran to the house while Bree got Samson ready.

  Sara unlocked Pia’s door and went in.

  Bree got out her ready pack and shouldered it, though she hoped Sara would return with the news that Pia was inside. When she approached the porch, the older woman reappeared.

  “No one there,” Sara said, her mouth turned down. “Let’s check the back.”

  The women went around to the backyard. Bree saw the ski tracks sloping off toward the forest. Two sets.

  “Could she have come back?”

  “There aren’t any skis in the garage,” Sara said.

  “Then maybe someone went with her.”

  Bree had the paper bag clutched in her hand. She knelt beside the dog and opened the bag. The dog thrust his nose into the bag and whimpered. His tail wagged in a frantic wave.

  “Search, Samson!” She let go of her dog, and Samson leaped away through the snow.

  His nose high, he crisscrossed the backyard. “What’s he doing?” Sara asked.

  Bree kept her gaze on her dog. “People give off skin rafts, microscopic particles of skin. They are unique to the individual. Samson is an air-search dog, so he’s trying to pick up Pia’s scent. Once he homes in on it, he can follow it like we would a whiff of perfume.” She began to smile. “He’s got it!” She put on her snowshoes, flipped on her flashlight, and followed Samson as he waded through the snowdrifts into the woods.

  “I’ll wait here,” Sara called after her.

  The sting of the cold wind on her face and the warm stretch of her muscles would have been enjoyable at another time, but the inner urgency to find Pia drove her on in a race that left no time for pleasure. The snow pack was heavy and she moved quickly on her snowshoes.

  Bree reached the ski path through the woods, and the gloom deepened. The bobbing beam of light was easy to follow. Bare trees seemed to reach their limbs for her.

  “It’s creepy out here,” she told Samson, just to break the silence.

  “I’d forgotten how scary the forest can be at night.” At least she had the dog with her.

  Bree paused to catch her breath. Out here in the dark, she could almost believe what Davy said about a windigo. She glanced around the black forest, and her laugh held an edge of unease.

  She and Samson moved farther along the ski path. They reached the top of a rise and started down. Samson bolted away from her, and his howl echoed back. Bree caught her breath. “Oh no,” she whispered when the howl came again.

  She ran after the dog. The moon shone through the bare tree limbs and illuminated her path. At the bottom of the hill, she stopped and began to tremble. A body lay crumpled on the ground, and the bright splash of blood on the snow made her retch. Pia’s sightless eyes stared up into the tree above her head.

  Bree didn’t have to touch the woman’s cold body to know Pia’s spirit had flown to somewhere else.

  6

  IT NEVER GOT EASIER TO BE ON THE FRONT LINES OF tragedy. Bree rubbed her stinging eyes and tried to comfort Samson, who lay panting at her feet. Finding a dead body was hard on him too. He’d vomited, then cried for several minutes. Bree expected Mason soon. After he told Sara the news. It appeared to Bree as though Pia had fallen onto a jagged branch that impaled her.

  Samson’s ears flicked, and he rose with his nose up. His dark eyes were worried. “It’s okay, boy,” Bree said, rubbing his ears. He whined and his dark eyes stared at a spot farther down the trail. “What is it?” Bree tried to see what had caught his attention, but her beam of light didn’t push back the edges of the darkness enough.

  She rose as a plaintive cry echoed through the darkness. The sound held an edge of wildness that made her shudder. A big cat? She’d have to tell Kade. Samson whined again and strained away from her. He seldom reacted to animals, so Bree’s curiosity was caught.

  She rose and let go of his collar. “Show me, boy.” The dog leaped away from her until he disappeared into the darkness. Bree shined her light along the path and followed. “Samson, speak!”

  The dog woofed ahead of her, and she moved the flashlight beam in the direction of the sound. She saw Samson standing by a pile of fallen trees just off the ski path. The pool of light caught him as he flattened onto his belly and nosed through the snow toward an opening in the jumble of wood. As Bree got closer, she heard a faint sound on the wind. The cry came again.

  She hurried to join her dog. “Move away,” she commanded, pulling on his collar. Samson sat back on his haunches, and she aimed her light into the cavity formed by the fallen trees. Bree caugh
t her breath at the sight of an infant backpack carrier with a quilted cover. Weak cries came from the hidden baby. Kneeling, she pulled the carrier free of the trees and peeked inside.

  A tiny baby in a pink sleeper wailed her misery to the world. Her tiny face was red and screwed with outrage. How long had she been here? Bree touched her. The baby’s sleeper was totally soaked. Bree focused her light under the tree trunk again and saw a diaper bag. She pulled it out. How had the child gotten here? And who had hidden her like this?

  “There, there,” she soothed. Surely there were bottles and formula in the bag, though it might be frozen, depending on how long it had been out here. She touched the baby’s cheek, and the infant turned her head hungrily. Her cheek was warm though. The insulating cover had done a good job of keeping her protected from the wind. The fallen trees where she’d been hidden had helped too.

  Bree shined her light into the recesses of the bag and began to dig through it. Her fingers touched a wallet, and she flipped it open. Pia’s face on a driver’s license smiled back at her. Bree’s throat closed, knowing the young woman would never smile again. She sat back and the light shone on a piece of paper lying on the ground. She picked it up and held it under the light. A sudoku, handwritten. She thrust it into the bag.

  Her gaze went back to the child. A foster child in Pia’s care? The baby mewled again, and Bree went in search of food. Her hand dug past diapers and sleepers. The formula inside was very cold but not frozen. At least the baby’s tummy would be full. Bree didn’t dare pull the infant from the warmth of the carrier. She shook up the formula, pushed the air out of the bag, then popped the nipple into the baby’s mouth. The tiny girl made a face at the cold rubber, then began to suckle weakly.

  How long had she been out here? Hours? Over a day?

  Samson looked on and whined. He sensed Bree’s agitation. “She’ll be okay, boy,” she said, looping her other arm around the dog.

  How was she going to burp the baby? Bree couldn’t expose her to the wind. The best thing to do was to get her to the hospital. It wasn’t far. Bree could call Mason and explain why she couldn’t wait.

  The baby finished the bottle, and Bree lifted the covering over the carrier again. The baby whimpered inside. Rising, Bree slipped her shoulders into the carrier and went back the way she’d come. She whispered a prayer for Pia’s family as she passed the woman’s crumpled body. She stayed on the packed ski trail, which made walking in her snowshoes easier than what she might face on the surrounding heavy snow.

  Her breath fogged out of her mouth, and the extra exertion caused her to pull more cold air into her lungs. She was already tired from the trek in, and the extra burden wore her out even more. Her cheeks burned from the cold, and she realized she should have worn a ski mask.

  She reached the edge of the woods and saw bobbing lights moving toward her across the dark field. It had to be Mason. She paused in the shelter of the trees until the sheriff reached her.

  Mason’s gaze flickered to the baby carrier and he raised his brows. “Is that a baby?”

  Bree nodded and drew in a deep breath. Carrying the extra weight had winded her. “I found her hidden in a pile of downed trees.”

  “Where’d she come from?”

  “I don’t know. I found Pia’s driver’s license in the backpack with her formula and diapers. If Pia hid her, this little one has been out here all day. I have to get her to the hospital.”

  “I’ll check with Children’s Protective Services. They’ll have a record of which babies were in Pia’s custody for placement.”

  Bree glanced back toward the house. “Did you tell Sara?”

  He nodded. “She went to her sister’s.”

  The baby began to whimper. “I need to get this little one checked out.” She studied Mason’s face an instant longer. “Kade and I have been approved as foster parents. When you call CPS, would you ask if I can keep her?”

  “You think that’s wise?” Mason’s voice held unusual gentleness. “You’ll have to give this baby up eventually. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

  “I’m a big girl, my friend. You don’t have to worry.” The moment she’d heard the infant cry, her heart longed to care for the baby. What would Kade say? He might have the same concerns as Mason. Davy would be ecstatic though.

  Mason shrugged. “Okay, I’ll have them meet you at the hospital. You’ll have to jump through their hoops, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  The baby wailed louder. “She’s soaked. I’m going to take her to the hospital first and make sure she’s okay, so call my cell if you need me.” Bree wouldn’t rest easy until a doctor confirmed the baby was only suffering from hunger and mild exposure.

  Mason nodded, and Bree hurried as fast as she could across the deep snow in the field. There were no lights on at Pia’s house, other than the back porch light, so she went around to the front and found Sara’s car gone. Bree tried the door and found it unlocked. Just as she’d hoped, she found an infant car seat inside. She installed it in the Jeep, then secured the wailing baby.

  She had Samson get in the backseat, then she drove to the hospital. The baby’s whimpers grew more plaintive, and Bree’s palms grew moist with the desire to tend to the infant. She stopped at the emergency entrance to the hospital, retrieved the crying infant, then rushed her inside with Samson on their heels.

  A nurse took Bree and the baby back right away. The baby’s cries weakened. “There, there, precious,” Bree crooned. The sleeper was dripping wet, all the way up to the neck. She changed the diaper and wrapped her in a dry receiving blanket. Humming “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You,” she cuddled the smelly infant and rocked on her feet.

  The baby cried even louder when Bree unwrapped the blanket so the doctor could examine her. At the hoarse sobs, Bree rubbed the baby’s soft head. “It’s okay, precious. It’s almost over.”

  By the time CPS arrived and filled out all the forms, the female doctor pronounced the baby fit and suffering only from mild exposure and hunger. The CPS worker mentioned that she had no record of the baby in Pia’s care and would dig into it more in the morning. Bree carried the baby back to the Jeep. When Bree pulled up to the lighthouse, the clock on the dash read eight o’clock, but it seemed much later.

  The lake ice gave a loud crackle when she got out of the Jeep and removed the infant carrier. Samson beat her to the porch, and Bree rushed to get the baby inside. The warm air was a welcome stream over her face when she opened the door. She carried the infant to the living room, where she set the carrier on the floor and peeled back the cover.

  Samson pranced around the table as the baby’s cries grew more insistent. “There, there, sweetheart,” Bree said, lifting the infant out of the carrier. At the sudden human contact, the tiny girl turned her face into Bree’s neck. Her fist went to her mouth. “Are you still hungry?” Bree said. “You’re soaked again.”

  “Bree, is that you, kulta?” Anu Nicholls appeared at the bottom of the steps. Nearly sixty, she was a trim, soft-spoken woman with soft blonde hair streaked with gray. She was Rob’s mother and still as close to a real mother as Bree had ever known. Her presence always calmed the family. “What are you doing with a baby?”

  “I don’t know. I found her hidden in the woods. Where are Davy and Kade?”

  “David is in bed,” Anu said in her faint Finnish accent. “Kade went to town for some formula. When Mason called and told him you were bringing home a baby, he asked me to come since David was already asleep.” She approached Bree and touched the infant’s cheek. “She is hungry.”

  “I gave her part of a bottle in the woods. I don’t know how long she’s been out there.” Bree nodded toward the backpack. “Could you warm another bottle? I’ll get her bathed and changed.”

  She carried the baby into the kitchen, and Samson followed anxiously on her heels as though the baby were his responsibility. He’d been this way with Davy too, Bree remembered, though he’d only been a puppy. She turned on warm wat
er and let the sink fill. “You need a bath, baby girl. You’ll like the warm water.” Cradling the child in one arm, she put a dishtowel on the counter and undressed the baby quickly.

  The tiny girl’s thin wails cut off in a gasp, and she threw out her arms. Bree quickly tossed a corner of the towel over the infant’s chest. “It’s okay,” she crooned.

  Samson put his front paws on the counter and watched with anxious eyes. “Get down, boy,” Bree said. The dog dropped back onto all four paws. She transferred the baby, still on the towel, to the sink. The infant’s tender skin was red and raw from the extended contact with her dirty diaper.

  “We’ll be done soon,” Bree said in a soothing voice. She became aware of Anu moving up behind her. Bree turned the water on in the other side of the sink so Anu could fill a pan with water to warm the bottle. She used gentle hand soap to wash the infant.

  “Could you grab me a hand towel from the drawer?” she asked Anu.

  Anu did as she was asked and also laid out another hand towel on the counter. “Here are the clothes from the bag. My, she looks quite new.”

  “I don’t think she’s more than a couple of weeks old. Maybe not even that.” Bree lifted the screaming infant and wrapped her in the hand towel. She dried her, then put a clean diaper, onesie, and sleeper on her. The baby began to quiet in the clean, dry clothes. Bree cuddled her close and turned to see Anu checking the temperature of the milk.

  “It is not quite as warm as she might like it, but the cold edge is off, kulta,” Anu said, drying the bottle and handing it to Bree.

  The baby sucked greedily at the bottle, and her translucent eyelids began to close as the lukewarm milk slid down her throat and filled her tummy. When was the last time Bree fed a baby? Maybe not since Davy was this age. The warm weight of the baby’s relaxed body filled a need in Bree’s heart.

  Still holding her close, she carried the infant to the living room and settled into the rocker. The baby girl’s mouth slackened as she sank deeper into sleep, and a dribble of milk spilled from it. The sweet scent of baby skin drifted to Bree’s nose. There was no better fragrance.