“You could just give him formula,” Trey told me, and we had, though it made me feel weepy and, in the swamp of my postpartum hormones, like I was failing at motherhood. Trey said I was too hard on myself. “Bottle-fed babies do just fine. Why not enjoy him? He’s our last one.” That was Trey, always on my side. God, I wanted him here now, confident and decisive, helping me know what to do. But the note said not to call him. I was too afraid to disobey.

It was my turn at the stop sign. I was sweating so hard the salt stung my eyes. Next I’d turn onto a four-lane road, and then I could go faster. I was bare minutes from my house.

I put one shaking hand up to wipe at my eyes. I’d come this far on such a wave of adrenaline I could barely remember the drive, but now my brain was beginning to work again. That woman, she had taken his diaper bag. Did that mean she meant to keep him? She had extra formula, diapers and wipes, a change of clothes, and a blanket that smelled like me. Surely she didn’t mean to keep him? GO HOME, the note said, but I was finally asking, why take the diaper bag if she was going to meet me now? And, looming larger, why Robert? Of all the babies in the world, why mine?

The answer was obvious. It was money. Had to be. Trey made so much of it. His family had even more. She’d taken Robert because he was worth a lot of money.

I should call the police. Trey would have already. Any of the Cabbats would have. But—the note said not to. It said to GO HOME, and I was almost, almost there. I would see if she was waiting for me, meeting me now, because once I called them, it couldn’t be undone. I had to think, be careful, do everything right. She had Robert.

If this was about money, I had to figure out exactly how much I could get my hands on. I wanted Trey with me again then, so fiercely. He would know. I ran our household budget, but he handled the big-picture stuff: investments, retirement, his trust. He could tell me how much cash we could lay hands on, but I couldn’t call him. The note said not to, so I couldn’t. She could have partners, watching me.