It’s pink, baby pink. My heart almost jumps out of my t-shirt when I see it.

The photograph hangs alone on the wall inside the door. Moving closer, I see a child sleeping, cradled in her mother’s arms, wearing a tiny knitted coat.

There’s a little girl standing by their side, her face glowing with happiness, her smile showing the gap created by two missing teeth. In her hand she holds a naked doll with painted hair and one plastic eye.

The mother is also smiling for the camera, but there’s a shadow across her face, proof of sadder times etched around her blue eyes. Her lips are bare, no makeup, no curls in the dark greying hair that hangs in clumps to her shoulders. Her floral dress droops loosely over her skinny body. Her feet are bare.

In the background the sky is flawless, a painted blue without a cloud in sight. The door to the trailer is open, showing the mess inside; clothes scattered across the floor, empty cupboard doors ajar. A teddy bear. A burnt out candle.

On the wooden steps leading to the open doorway a can of beer sits beside an overflowing ashtray, some of the butts dotted on the dry dusty soil below.

The baby is about three months old, a small tuft of hair jutting out from the center of her forehead. Her shiny lips are tightly closed.

But it’s the coat that scares me. The pink coat with the second button missing. Putting my hand on the frame I glide my finger over the baby’s face, over my face.

Chapter Nineteen

I don’t think I slept at all last night. My mind was playing games, wondering if Katie Collins spoke with my mom. Did she tell her why she was looking for me? Nothing makes sense, and I still can’t figure out why she looks familiar. Maybe she reminds me of someone I once knew.

I ring Jeff, but the call goes straight to his message minder. Where are you, Jeff?

In the meantime, I better go back to work, get this Stephen Black thing over with, face the music.