Blackness Within (5 page)

Stethoscope in my ears, I check heart, lungs and belly sounds. Everything is pretty normal as I remove the diaper and find the baby I’m dealing with is a boy. I can’t tell how old he is, but his circumcision is completely healed and given his size and the weight of him in my arms, I’m guessing he’s maybe three to four months old. It’s only a guess though.

The baby is filthy and he’s been in this diaper well over twenty-four hours so I can’t gauge how much urine he’s passing. He’s definitely dehydrated. His tongue and gums are dry. I check over every inch of his body searching for any puncture wounds from the needles that were strewn on the floor where I found him. Thankfully, I find nothing. There are no signs of bruising or abuse. His reflexes are appropriate even though he’s lethargic. He’s basically healthy other than the recent neglect he’s suffering from.

I dive back into my bag and pull out a two-ounce ready-to-feed formula bottle and the accompanying nipple. Scooping the baby into the crook of my arm, I move to the sink and run the bottle under hot water to warm it slightly. Once I’m satisfied with the temperature, I sit at the table and run the nipple across his lips. He hasn’t stirred once since I found him. I’m functioning on autopilot at this point. Doing what I’m best at, my job.

I squeeze a drop of the formula onto his lips and he finally roots minutely before sucking in the nipple. I take a calming breath and watch him eat. It takes no time for him to drink the bottle and he falls asleep just as he finishes. I could start an IV, but I don’t think he needs it. I’ll feed him again in a half hour and see where he’s at.

A half hour? What the fuck am I doing? I’ve stolen a baby from a crack den, and instead of taking him to a hospital, I brought him to my house. I wasn’t thinking for the last hour or so. I was just doing, going through the motions. What have I done?

I hop up out of the hard wooden kitchen chair and streak into the living room. I switch on the TV, turn it to a network station and wait. Nothing. No Amber Alert. No breaking news crawl at the bottom of the screen. I change channels. Nothing. Not a damn thing on any station local or national. What have I done?

Warmth running down my stomach alerts me to the baby’s needs.

“Diaper, Natasha,” I scold myself.

I have a tendency to talk to myself when I’m annoyed. It happens more often than I’d like to admit. I don’t have diapers in my bag and I only have two more bottles of formula. I should take this baby to a hospital. I can claim I just found him. Where would I find a baby? Why can’t I be a better liar? I’m an awful liar, always have been. Blake’s the liar. Blake! Damn him for this!

“Think!”

Okay, no Amber Alert is a good thing. The baby probably belonged to the passed out junkies. I know he’s not Blake’s. Blake would tell me that. Right? I did miss a call from him earlier. His voicemail was cutting out and the words he was saying didn’t make sense. Did he tell me about a baby? No, I would remember that.

I’ll just call social services and tell them what happened. They can come get the baby and…Blake will go to jail. Maybe…no, I can’t send my brother to jail. He’ll never make it back out. I know he didn’t hurt this baby. He was in Blake’s room. Even in his drug-addled state, my brother tried to put the baby out of harm’s way. I know that’s not much, but it’s a sign that my Blake is still in there somewhere.

I can’t call our mother. She’s no good in a crisis. She only adds more drama. I got a splinter when I was six and she almost passed out just looking at it. Blake had to take it out. My nine-year-old brother had to take care of that simple task. Why can’t I have that brother right now?

No.

No time for a pity party.

So no cops, no social services, no hospital because doctors, cops and social services will be involved. What have I done? This is a career-ending move. What if this baby belongs to someone else? I could have stolen this baby for a second time. But if this is a stolen baby where’s the Amber Alert?

During this mental shit storm, I’ve managed to wrap the baby in a dishtowel.

“Zeus, we need supplies.”

Sometimes I not only talk to myself, I talk to my eighty-pound German Shepherd. He looks at me like he understands me most of the time. He’s currently staring at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I think he’s onto something.

I can’t walk into Walmart at one in the morning with a baby wrapped in a dishtowel.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

If I call any of my work friends, it will make everything worse. I don’t have any close friends. I have a group of people from work that I laugh and joke with at the hospital and go out for drinks with socially. None of them know about my brother and none of them are going to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done. I’m on my own. I’ve been on my own a long time, but this feels worse. This feels like a death sentence.

“The baby shower!” I exclaim, jumping off the couch and running to my bedroom. I throw open my closet and dig through the bottom to find a pink gift bag.

My co-worker is pregnant with a girl and we’re having a baby shower for her next week. I’ve never been more thankful for deciding to shop early in my life. I pull out the soft white cotton dress and hold it up to the baby. It’ll be a tight squeeze but he’ll fit in it. It’ll have to do until I can get to the store.

After washing the baby off with a warm washcloth, I pull the dress over his head and am satisfied that he looks good enough to be in public. He’s barely made a peep the whole time I’ve messed with him, but his vitals are still good so I’m not too concerned. I move into the kitchen and feed him another bottle before leaving the house. I’m scared to death to get pulled over with a baby lying in the passenger seat, so I drive like a little old lady, obeying every law I can remember. When park in the Walmart parking lot, I release the steering wheel from my ironclad grip and try to stop shaking.

I attempt to appear normal as I load the baby into one of those shopping carts with a baby carrier attached, after wiping it down a hundred times with the provided anti-bacterial wipes. It’ll have to do. The store is mostly empty since it’s the middle of the night. I move purposefully to the baby section and begin loading it with everything I can think of. Diapers, wipes, formula, bottles, bathing supplies, blankets, towels, clothes, baby carrier, a playpen with a changing station and a car seat. This should get me through until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

I forgot I’d have to check out. As I begin to unload the cart, panic starts to rise in my chest. The young man checking me out doesn’t seem to notice how strange this situation is so I don’t say anything. When the total comes up on the screen, I swipe my card and high tail it out of there like my hair is on fire.

“Totally normal, Natasha,” I chastise myself as I reach my car.

I quickly rip open the box with the car seat and strap it in the backseat before I load the baby in. Once he’s secure, I dump everything else in the trunk and drive us back to my home. I’m fully expecting the police to be waiting for me in my driveway, but no one is there. We’re safe. For now at least.

Zeus follows me around while I feed the baby, change the baby and use my kitchen scale to weigh his diaper. He’s passing a normal amount of urine so I feel confident he’s rehydrating appropriately. Once the baby is re-diapered and in pajamas with little cars covering them, I set about putting together the playpen. It’s harder than necessary in my opinion.

I’m working up a sweat now and am annoyed with the hard surface the baby will have to sleep on, but it’ll have to do for now. For now? What the hell am I thinking? This will be fine until I can get a hold of Blake, sober him up and come up with a plan. That’s all this is.

The baby stirs against my chest so I lay him across my arm, and for the first time I actually look at him. He’s got a fuzzy head of medium brown hair. His eyes are typical baby blue with a dark navy ring around the irises. With a cute button nose and sweet pouty lips, he’s an adorable baby. Something about that realization makes the tears I’ve been holding at bay since this whole nightmare began spill down my cheeks. As a large gut-wrenching sob cackles from my chest, the baby scrunches up his face before unleashing a tiny giggle. I pick him up against my heart and laugh as hard as I’m crying, proving I’ve officially lost my mind.

Natasha

After a fitful night of sleep, I decide to crawl out of bed. The baby’s asleep so I leave my bedroom door open. I’ll be able to hear him if he wakes up before I need to feed him again. I flop on the couch and Zeus joins me, cuddling up to my side. I stroke him for a while letting the comfort he brings settle me a bit before I call my idiot brother.

I press call and am immediately met with a disconnected phone message. Of course his phone is disconnected. Why wouldn’t it be? I’ll have to go back to the house. This time I’m taking Zeus. I’ve taken self-defense and I always have my law enforcement strength mace with me, but Zeus is my bodyguard. I’ve spent a small fortune on his training, both in classes and through online tutorials on my own. He obeys my every command and is capable of taking down anyone in his way or anyone trying to get me. I pity the person stupid enough to try him.

Once I’ve fed the baby, I decide to take a shower with him. He needs to get clean and so do I. I thought it was a good idea, but holding a slippery baby while trying to wash and condition my hair feels like a death-defying feat. Every time I get my body somewhat clean, he pees on me. I give up and get us both dressed and fed before loading into the car.

I pull up in front of the crack house and it looks abandoned. I know before I push the unlocked door open it’s empty. Blake’s gone. I don’t need to search the house. I can feel it in my bones. He’s running. What the hell am I going to do now?

“Lookin’ for somethin’ sweet thang?” a man’s voice purrs behind me.

“Threat!” I command Zeus who immediately spins and lunges at the man against the leash.

“Fuck!” he screams, backing up as I maneuver around while controlling Zeus and the baby in his car seat.

“Move away from me,” I snarl at the drug dealer. I know what he is without having to consider it.

“Lady, call your dog off!”

“Move away from me!”

He finally backs down the steps slowly as Zeus growls and barks at him. When I’m satisfied he’s far enough away from me, I tell Zeus, “Easy.”

Zeus remains at attention but stops barking and lunging.

“Do you know where Blake is?” I ask the wiry man.

“Took off in the middle of the night,” he responds with a shrug. “Had most of his shit with him.”

Great. Now what?

“I’m gonna go to my car now. I suggest you get moving before I do.”

He turns tail and runs down the street. I love my dog.

I settle all of us back in the car and drive back to my house, trying to formulate a plan as I go. I need help and fast. There’s still nothing on the news about a missing baby. I don’t understand why. Even if this baby belongs to the junkie, wouldn’t she want to know where her baby is? Wouldn’t his grandparents? Is it possible no one wants this baby? I’m too sleep deprived to understand how any of this is possible.

Once I’m home, the baby is fed and back asleep, I start to seriously consider what to do. I need help. Now that Blake’s on the run I could call the cops. Blake would still be in trouble, but maybe the cops wouldn’t find him. That’s unlikely. I’m still not willing to take that risk. There has to be a better plan.

Who do I know that deals with illegal stuff? Because that’s a normal thought. Blake is the only criminal I know and he’s gone. He’ll come back. He always comes back. But I don’t know how long he’ll run. And the fact that he’s running has me scared. How did he end up with this baby in his house? If he was out looking for the baby he would call me. I’m his go-to in life when things get complicated. Oddly, he’s still mine too. Something is wrong. There’s something I have to be missing.

I need help. Who can help me with this?

“Think, Tosh.”

Ten minutes later, it hits me.

“Shannon Kelly.”

That’s it. She’s a family attorney and I’ve seen her through some crazy stuff. She told me to call her if I ever needed anything. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but right now she’s the only person that comes to mind.

I Google her and find her easily. She works for Kavanagh Law, the biggest law firm in Kansas City. Is it a good idea to call and attorney to tell her I stole a baby? Probably not, but I’m out of ideas at this point and I need someone smart to help me out.

I take a deep breath and dial her number.

“Shannon Kellerman’s office,” a chipper baritone male voice answers.

“Is Missus Kellerman available?” I ask professionally, noting she married her hot as sin fiancé.

“Missus Kellerman is currently on a leave of absence. Can I assist you with something or direct you to another attorney?”

Shit. Of course. She has three babies under three-years old. My brain is no longer a functional organ.

“Ma’am?” the man encourages.

“I need help,” I say in a soft timid voice. I’m cracking. Shit, I’m about to lose it on the phone with a stranger.