The two men step out of the room and I think about eavesdropping for the second time tonight. I press my ear against the door. “Look, the chief doesn’t want to pull the trigger on announcing this unless we have proof. I’ve had three encounters with Mrs. Gray in less than a week, and none of them have been accurate. She’s paranoid, Jake. I’ve seen it a million times.” I pull my head away. I don’t want to hear the rest.

I walk in a circle and thrust my fingers through the baby’s hair and gently bounce him up and down. For the first time, he seems content. As if on cue, he lets out a tiny satisfied sigh that tugs at my heart. “Who wouldn’t want you?” I whisper. “Who in the world…?”

The door opens, and I wait for further instructions.

“Bec…” The way Jake says my name makes me nervous. “We’re probably going to need to wait until morning. We need to verify a few things—talk to witnesses—before we can go further. We’ve done another scan and there are no missing babies reported. Not in Elmhurst or the surrounding areas.”

“If someone did this on purpose, I’m sure they aren’t going to alert the authorities that their baby is missing,” I snap.

“We understand that, but again, without some sort of finite proof, we have to go with protocol. We’ll get the digital footprint, talk to witnesses, and go from there. Okay?”

I laugh, a short bark that echoes in the dull room. “So I’m just supposed to wait until morning?” I look between them. “And do what exactly?”

“I know this is hard,” Jake says.

“No, you don’t. You have no clue.” I’m talking about Jackson, but I’m also talking about everything else. He doesn’t have any idea. No one does.

“Mrs. Gray,” Officer Toby begins.

“It’s Rebecca,” I say. “I’m not a Mrs. anymore. My husband is dead.” I bounce the baby, who has started to fuss once I raised my voice. “And what happens to him?”

“He stays with you tonight, unless you want us to call Social Services.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say.

Jake lowers his voice and whispers something to Officer Toby, who straightens papers on the table. “I’ll just let you two talk. We’ll be in touch in the morning, Rebecca.” He slips out the door.

“Can we go now?” I ask. I’m already reaching for him, having forgotten my cane when we left the house so fast. He guides me outside, and I’m incensed that the police aren’t helping. This is a missing baby we’re talking about.

We’re silent on the walk back. For the second time tonight, I assess the sounds of nature—loud and persistent.

“What time is it?” I finally ask.

“Two,” he says.