Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“The second time she was told, the police were called.” He looked sick to be saying the words. “She made it look like she’d gone out there to get him. And then no one had paid her any more attention until a person had walked by Emory’s vehicle and heard the baby crying.”
I wanted to cry myself. To throw up. To rage.
“And she still didn’t go out,” I guessed, voice icily calm.
“Fucking monster,” Pepper whispered.
“No,” he said. “She went out to smoke.”
To smoke.
Another reason I’d broken up with her.
She didn’t have any issue smoking around people who didn’t want to be smoked around. Nor did she care that my apartment was a no smoking area, both by my apartment complex and me.
She’d just light up anywhere she wanted and didn’t care who she offended.
I wondered how much secondhand smoke the kid had to deal with on a daily basis.
“Forest…”
My fucking heart.
It was going to explode in my chest.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
Forest.
She’d named him Forest.
About two weeks before I’d broken up with her, she’d laughed at some video she was watching, and had then asked me what I would name my son or daughter if and when I’d ever had kids.
Since it wasn’t something I’d ever thought about, I’d taken my time, thinking of what I would name a child. I’d come up with the name Forest for a boy. I’d joked that I’d call him For for short, which would eventually get nicknamed even further to Quad, like my grandfather had gone by in his days as a police officer.
Though, she’d only listened for the first half of my explanation. Hadn’t cared to hear about anything to do with my grandfather, his nickname, or why I’d call him that.
I guess I should be lucky she named him Forest.
At this point, with the name, the birthmark, and the way the kid had my hair… there was little doubt who he belonged to.
“That’s a cute name,” Pepper murmured quietly.
The officer flashed her a grin.
“Was in the car for twenty-seven minutes according to the cameras,” he said. “Social worker was contacted. She should be here…”
“She’s here,” I croaked. “In with him now.”
“Good,” Officer Augilar said.
“Thank you for looking into it,” I offered him my hand.
“Wish I didn’t have to, bruh,” he admitted. “Kids are the worst calls.”
I agreed.
I fucking agreed.
I bet someone’s mom was using me as a bad example when I was younger.
—Pepper’s secret thoughts
PEPPER
30 minutes before
“Hello?” I answered the phone.
“Oh my God,” Maven said. “Shut the shop down right now and go to Atlas.”
The urgency in her voice, paired with Atlas’s name, was enough to send my thoughts into a tailspin.
I froze.
“What?” I breathed.
“Atlas is at the hospital! He covered Quaid’s shift today so that Quaid could go to the lake resort park with us in Henderson.” She spoke quickly.
“Oh my God. Is he okay?” I gasped, already snapping my fingers at the customers who were lingering with their Danish they’d just purchased. “What hospital?”
They left quickly at my words, not getting upset like I thought they might.
I locked the door behind them and rushed to the back to get my purse.
“He’s okay, but Pepper. He just found out he had a baby,” she cried.
I stilled.
“What?” I squawked.
“A baby!” she repeated. “And do you want to know how he found out?”
I hurried to my purse, threw the cross-body strap over my shoulder, and asked, “How?”
I hurried to my car after locking up, thankful that everything was electronic now that we’d moved to the new place.
Once I was in my car the Bluetooth kicked in, momentarily stealing Maven’s explanation.
“…locked in a hot car!” Maven screeched.
I put it into drive and was halfway out into the lane when I nearly came to a stop at Maven’s words.
I had to force myself to go so I wouldn’t get hit, but my voice wasn’t anywhere near as calm when I said, “Repeat that.”
“Atlas got a call today while he was covering Quaid’s shift. He was across the street for an hour for his lunch break when he was about to go back on shift. He got a call about a child locked in a hot car,” she repeated.
My stomach sank.
A child locked in a car.
Every year dozens of children died because of that very thing.
It was the most miserable death in existence.
“How do you forget about your child?” I asked, aghast.
“I don’t know,” Maven said. “So he gets there, pulls the baby out, goes into the store and starts to cool him down, and he’s sick-sick. Vomiting. Chills. Clammy. Then his ex-girlfriend from a couple years ago walks up and says ‘my baby!’ and everything clicks for him.”
Holy shit.
“One of the officers who arrived on scene heard him make the connection. He clarified it, then called Quaid because he’s his sergeant and might want to know,” she explains.