Vicky laughed from a neighboring rocking chair where she cuddled another baby. She wore a red velvet dress and white tights. “He’s not Uncle Scrooge. He’s Jack Crachit!”

Ebenezer Scrooge had been Disneyfied into Uncle Scrooge in Vicky’s mind, but Jack didn’t correct her. Uncle Scrooge was an old friend.

“Hearty-har-har-har, Vicks,” Jack said. He had his own rocking chair, but no baby, which was just fine with him.

Gia stood and lifted the baby against her shoulder.

“He is Mr. Scrooge,” she said, patting the baby’s back. “Look at him sitting there listening to his radio, the epitome of the Christmas spirit.”

He’d brought along a portable radio and had set it on a window ledge, playing low.

“It’s Christmas music,” he said.

The tiny speaker wasn’t doing any justice to Shawn Colvin’s very cool version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” but she sounded great anyway.

“Yeah, but it’s that same upstate station you’ve been listening to for the past two days. What’s so interesting in the Catskills?”

“I’ve been following a story up there.”

Gia stared at him. “The one about…?”

She didn’t finish the sentence but he knew what story she meant. The six corpses found at a rest stop along the thruway—”Shocking Mass Murder!”—had made all the media.

She obviously didn’t want to mention the specifics in front of Vicky.

He nodded. “That’s the one.”

Jack had parked the truck in a corner of the rest stop lot and called Julio. He’d eaten a couple of cheeseburgers and hung out, watching the snow until Julio arrived, then the two of them had headed back to the city. Along the way, Jack stopped at a gas station and phoned in a tip about the abandoned panel truck.

Gia’s mouth tightened and she turned away. The baby, a little black girl, peered at Jack over Gia’s shoulder and burped.

“There’s a good girl,” Gia said. She turned and approached Jack, stopping directly in front of him. “Hold out your arms,” she said.

“No, Gia, really—”

“Do it, Jack. Trust me, you need this. You really do. But she needs it more.”

“Come on, Gia—”

“No, I mean it.”

She turned the baby so Jack could see her face. The dark eyes stared at him for a few seconds, then she smiled.

Gas, Jack thought.

“Her name’s Felicity. One of the nurses started calling her that because her mother took off without bothering to name her. Felicity had to go through crack withdrawal during her first week of life; she’s HIV positive, and she’s been abandoned. She’s got no one to hold her, Jack. Babies need to be held. So go ahead. Give her a break. It won’t kill you.”

“It’s not that…”

“Jack.” She held Felicity out to him.

“Oh, okay.”