“You have to take them!” he snapped, startling even himself. He glanced down at his cooling Pop-Tart, his appetite quickly vanishing.
“Sorry,” Lilah muttered, moving her half-eaten eggs around the plate glumly. Before Stanley could apologize for his outburst, a horn sounded from outside. “That’s Seth – I gotta go. I’ll be back by midnight, okay? Love you, Dad.” She gave his scruffy cheek a quick kiss before grabbing her backpack and heading out the back door.
“I love you too, kid,” he replied, watching her head down the salted driveway. As Seth’s beat-up blue Honda pulled away, Stanley Quinn’s eyes were once again faraway, remembering unsettling things he had tried very hard to forget over the years.
Chapter 2
The New Fire Chief
Twenty-nine-year-old Stanley Quinn stared at the shambolic collection of reports and instructions on his desk, which had been “organized” into a three-inch thick packet that Chief Mendoza had left him when he abruptly retired last week. It outlined everything from the grossly unbalanced budget that Stanley needed to present to the mayor at the end of the week to the half-finished evacuation plan for the new elementary school that was set to open next month. Stanley rubbed his forehead tiredly as he scanned a medical report that linked several serious health defects to a specific type of flame retardant that was widely used at the Tri-Forks Fire Station.
Well, that’s just great, he thought to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his chemical-coated, potentially-carcinogenic coveralls.
For the last three years, he had been perfectly happy being the Assistant Chief, which at such a small station, simply meant making the weekly schedules and filling out a little extra paperwork with Mendoza at the end of the day. Now, it seemed like he could never get away from his desk – or, more specifically, from the mountain of paperwork that grew taller by the hour. Still, being the newly-instated Chief did mean a significantly larger paycheck, and Marie had been on the baby bandwagon for months now. She’d all but put her foot down earlier that week, telling Stanley that if he didn’t put a baby in her soon, she’d take matters into her own hands. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant and was too intimidated by his five-foot-one wife to inquire further. Nevertheless, he understood that the woman meant business.
Stanley sighed into his blistered knuckles. A new baby would mean a mountain of expensive disposable diapers, a fancy crib, a pricey, state-of-the-art stroller, premium baby food from the top shelf of the supermarket aisle, a college fund – oh God. How the hell was he going to pay for college? What if Marie popped out twins?
“Hey, Chief?” Salvatore stuck his head in Stanley’s office. “Sorry to interrupt, but, uh… we’ve got an issue.”
“Did Wilson bring in his wife’s chili again?” Stanley grimaced at the memory of the entire department scrambling for the station’s only single-stall bathroom. It took two plumbers and a four-digit service bill just to clear the pipes after that gastrointestinal fiasco.
“I, uh… I think you’d better come see for yourself,” Salvatore replied.
Despite his towering stack of paperwork, something in the man’s voice made Stanley look up from the report in his hands. “Yeah,” he answered, grabbing his jacket as he rose from the chair. “I’m coming right now.”
He followed Salvatore downstairs, past the dorms and through the common area, all the way to the street-side entrance of the fire station. A half-dozen men were crowded around a small wicker basket, speaking in hushed voices. Stanley’s first thought was an absurd one: Did Mrs. Collins bring us another fruit basket? They had, after all, just rescued her new kitten from the neighbor’s tree for the third time that month.
“It’s a baby, Chief,” Wilson said, answering Quinn’s question before he spoke it. “Me and Jones found ‘er just a few minutes ago on the front step. Thank God he heard ‘er cryin’ with those wolf ears of his. It’s damn near freezin’ outside.”
Stanley stared down at the basket of blankets that Wilson was awkwardly holding in front of him. The baby was tiny – no more than a month old, as far as he could tell. Thankfully, apart from her blue-tinted lips, she didn’t appear to be malnourished or abused.
“Me an’ the boys were just debatin’ what to do. Do we take ‘er to the hospital? Call Sheriff Reid?”
“I don’t know a damn thing about abandoned babies or the correct protocol here,” Stanley muttered, thinking back to the messy pile of papers on Mendoza’s – or rather, his – desk. “But I know someone who’s a hell of a lot smarter than me… Just don’t tell her I said that.”
“And who’s that, Chief?”
“My wife.”
· · ·
Back at home, the black sky outside the Quinns’ living room window was just beginning to fade to violet as the sun stirred to life beneath the flat horizon. Marie Quinn sat on the edge of their threadbare plaid couch, rocking a sleeping baby snugly against her chest until its plump little cheeks were suitably pink once more.
“She’s absolutely darling,” Marie cooed, smelling the top of the baby’s head. It smelled divine – like talcum powder, lavender, and innocence. “Who could abandon such a precious little thing?” She touched the tip of her nose to the slumbering baby’s. Lilah, as the note had named her, stirred softly.
Stanley was frowning, pacing back and forth in front of the couch as he re-read the hand-scrawled letter that had been pinned to the baby’s blankets. “‘Please see to it that Lilah receives the love and care that we couldn’t provide her.’ – Jesus, Marie, the poor kid could have been kidnapped. Her parents might be criminals. Drug addicts, even!” He scrubbed his fingers through his sandy hair, which was matted with grime and sweat. “I gotta take her over to Reid.”
“Sheriff Reid? Oh no, Stan, we’re not dumping this sweet little infant at the police station,” Marie clucked, tightening her grip around the baby. “They’d just chuck her into the foster system!”
“Then what do you propose we do? Keep her?” He was straining to keep the alarm from sounding in his voice. Preparing to have a kid nine months from now was one thing… But just picking a random baby off the streets? Stan rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.
“Where else would you have her go?” Marie asked, her voice soft and sweet despite the death glare that was etched across her face. She gently set the baby on the sofa cushion beside her, making sure she was swaddled in her warm blanket as snugly as possible. Who would leave such a fragile little thing outside in the cold? It made absolutely no sense to her.
“Uh, the police station? An orphanage? Hell, I could go drop her off with Pastor Daniels—”
“Stanley Quinn, you should be ashamed of yourself—” Marie’s admonishment was cut off by a soft gasp. The baby’s eyes had snapped open, but there was something off about their gaze, which looked straight past Marie’s startled face and focused on something far away. After a moment, Lilah’s right eye began to twitch.
“Stan, I think something’s wrong,” Marie whispered urgently. “I mean, look at her. It’s like she’s—”