All of this is a reminder to keep people around that I trust. People like Crystal, Jess, Beth, and Jake. I pace the house, restless. I check the time, change and feed the baby, pop him in the stroller, and head to the park. Maybe, just maybe, there will be some sort of clue I missed.

On the way, I calculate how long it will take to go through each name on that list of receipts and if we will find what we’re looking for.

“Rebecca?”

A hand on my elbow rips me out of my internal dialogue. The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I turn, one hand on the stroller and one on my cane. “Hi…”

“Caroline Walker. We met at Jessica’s party the other night. How are you, my dear? After…”

After you jumped into a swimming pool fully clothed and made a fool of yourself?

“I’m fine. You?”

“Waiting for this insane heat to break. I thought Illinois wasn’t supposed to be hot. But climate change isn’t real, right?” She laughs, and I attempt to smile. She steps closer. Her grip tightens. “How are you, really?”

I will myself to tell her I’m okay, but something pricks the recesses of my memory. Didn’t she say she and her husband were part of the neighborhood watch? “Actually, do you have time for a quick cup of coffee?” I lick my lips and work out what I need to say. “I think I might need your help.”

“My dear, I live for help. Brewpoint?”

Caroline falls into step beside me and chats about the weather, the upcoming fall festivals, and the latest neighborhood scandals around a few stolen trash cans. I want to ask what to do about stolen babies, but refrain.

We order our coffee and grab a quiet table near the back. I tuck the stroller next to me, and Caroline murmurs about how children grow so fast. Instead of making small talk, I launch right in. “Do you remember me telling you about the recent scares I’d been having?”

“How could I forget?”

I twist my paper cup in my hands. Wasn’t I just sitting in a coffee shop in Chicago with Jake? Life, even with all of its complexities, seemed so much simpler only a few days ago. “Well, something happened after the party.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what I’m going to say is going to sound a little … out there, but mother to mother, I need you to hear me.”

“I’m listening.”

A dish crashes in the background. Someone claps and whoops. I scoot my chair even closer and give her the high-level rundown, as if I’m letting her in on a top-secret investigation. She listens intently and doesn’t interrupt. Finally, I finish and sit back, awaiting the criticism.

“You mean to tell me that Officer Toby didn’t take this seriously?”