Hanging limply over the side of the padded gray straps was a tiny, pale baby’s hand.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, all the air rushing out of my lungs. “Whose baby is that?”
I didn't think. I just reacted. I shoved my arm through the jagged hole, ignoring the sharp glass tearing at the sleeve of my coat. I fumbled for the interior door handle, unlocked it, and ripped the back door open.
A wave of suffocating, stale heat poured out. The baby, dressed in a thick yellow onesie, was flushed a terrifying shade of dark pink, his chest barely rising. He wasn't crying. He was unconscious, his skin covered in a layer of sticky sweat.
“Help!” I screamed, my voice tearing through my throat. I looked back at the women standing in the aisle. “Somebody call 911! There’s a baby in the car!”
I leaned over the backseat, my hands shaking violently as I unbuckled the complicated five-point harness. I carefully lifted the limp infant into my arms, pulling him out into the cooler, overcast air of the parking lot. He felt so heavy, so dangerously hot against my chest.
As I pulled him out, a small object tumbled from the folds of a baby blanket beside the car seat, landing on the pavement by my feet. It was a customized blue pacifier clip. The plastic clip was shaped like a small wooden anchor.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew that clip. I had bought that exact clip off Etsy two months ago as a peace-offering gift for David’s new wife.
This was Leo.
This was David and Chloe’s four-month-old son.
Before I could even process the horrifying impossibility of what I was holding, a shrill, hysterical scream erupted from the direction of the mall entrance.
“What are you doing to my baby?!”
I whipped my head around. Sprinting across the asphalt, dropping shopping bags that spilled expensive clothing onto the dirty ground, was Chloe. She was wearing perfectly fitted designer sunglasses, her blonde hair bouncing wildly around her shoulders, her face twisted in a mask of absolute fury.
She wasn't looking at the broken window. She was looking at me, holding her child.
And as she screamed again, pointing at me for everyone in the parking lot to see, I realized with a sickening jolt that this wasn't an accident. I had just stepped into a trap.
CHAPTER 2
“Get your hands off my son!”
Chloe’s voice was a high-pitched shriek that pierced the heavy, humid air of the parking lot. She lunged at me, practically tearing Leo from my arms. The baby let out a weak, raspy whimper as he was jostled, his eyes fluttering but not fully opening.
“Chloe, he was locked in the car!” I yelled, stepping back, my hands raised in a defensive posture. “The windows were rolled up! He was overheating!”
“You broke my window!” she screamed back, clutching the lethargic infant tightly to her chest, glaring at me with eyes full of manufactured venom. She turned wildly to the growing crowd of onlookers. The three older women had now been joined by a young couple and a man in a maintenance uniform. “She attacked my car! This crazy woman is stalking me!”
“Stalking you?” I gasped, my mind spinning. “I’m not stalking you, Chloe! Emma broke the window to save him!”
I looked down to find Emma. She was pressed tightly against my leg, hiding her face in my coat, her small body trembling uncontrollably. I placed a protective hand on top of her head.