Her stomach growled. Then spasmed. Then growled again. Leave it to her to be carrying a baby as contrarian as she was.

She should call Alex. She should make some time this evening, even thirty minutes to sit and talk. She tried to picture the conversation in her mind, but still wasn’t sure how it would go.

HER: So remember how you said you and your first wife tried to have a baby a few years ago, but it didn’t work out? Turns out, you were not the problem in that equation.

HIM:

HER:

HIM:

HER:

It wasn’t much of a conversation. Maybe because she didn’t have much of an imagination, or any experience with these things. Personally, she was more adept at the “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” conversation.

Would he offer to marry her? Should she accept that kind of deal, if not for her sake, then for the baby’s? Or did it matter in this day and age? Did she just assume he would help her? Or would he just assume she’d never let him?

Her stomach hurt again. She didn’t want to be pregnant anymore. It was too confusing and she wasn’t great with big life questions. She preferred more elemental debates, such as why did Tessa Leoni kill her husband, and what did it have to do with her shooting Thomas Howe ten years ago?

Now, there was a question for the ages.

D.D. followed her guidance system into a maze of tiny side streets in Arlington. A left here, two rights there, and she arrived in front of a cheerful red-painted house with white trim and a snow-covered front yard the size of D.D.’s car. D.D. parked by the curb, grabbed her heavy coat, and headed for the door.

Juliana MacDougall answered after the first ring. She had long, dishwater blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and a fat, drooling baby balanced on her denim-clad hip. She regarded D.D. curiously, then blanked her face completely when D.D. flashed her creds.

“Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren, Boston PD. May I come in?”

“What is this regarding?”

“Please.” D.D. gestured to the inside of the toy-strewn house. “It’s cold out here. I think we’d all be more comfortable talking inside.”

Juliana thinned her lips, then silently held the door open for D.D. to enter. The home boasted a tiny, tiled entryway, opening to a small family room with nice windows and recently refinished hardwood floors. The house smelled like fresh paint and baby powder, a new little family settling into a new little home.