Patty sat out back and quietly played her guitar. By the third time through Brahms’ “Lullabye,” the baby next door went to sleep.
finds me interesting
The police hadn’t found the missing baby. In one corner of the crib, the big teddy bear just sat and smiled and said nothing.
The ghost has a new trick: screaming in your ear while you’re on the stairs. I kept from dropping the baby or landing on her.
smells like something
a baby did
When he lowered the tray in front of him, Bob found a note: “Sorry about what my baby did to your seat on the previous flight.”
Marie rushed from the kitchen at the back of her shotgun house through the bedroom. She gave the travel crib a quick glance as she raced into the living room to get the door. Whoever was banging on it, however rhythmically, was an enemy of the peace.
She threw the door wide and even before registering who stood there she stage-whispered, “Be quiet!”
Then she saw who it was.
A man stood at the viewing window, pretending to be interested in all the newborns lying on display. He occasionally smiled at the nurse taking care of them.
He was interested in only one of the babies, though, and when the nurse was occupied with another child the man stared malevolently at the particular baby. He kept one hand in his jacket pocket, fondling the warm weapon there.
He suddenly felt the heat slipping out of his weapon, its titanium housing swiftly cooling. His shoulders sagged and he turned.
In the visitors’ waiting area sat another man, watching the first. The newcomer shook his head.
“Max, the Council said ‘no.’”