White House. I sure would love to meet her. Who knows, we might have a thing or two in common. You should get yourself a copy. Good read.”
“Maybe the next time I’m in the grocery store. Let’s take a look at those pictures.”
He set a short stack of color printouts on the granite countertop. Mary settled into a narrating pose.
“You can see the trees scattered in every direction.”
“Looks like a bomb hit,” he said, flipping to the next photo.
“Here’s our dining room before I had the carpet pulled up. Ever seen anything like it? What am I saying? Of course you have. Duh.”
He flipped to the next photo.
She said, “That’s the north wall. And there’s the west wall, or at least what’s left of it.”
“You’re quite the photographer. Almost like a professional.”
“Thanks. I’m a rank amateur, actually.”
He moved on to another photo.
“Are you sure? I see definite expertise in these shots.”
“Thanks.”
Alex tossed the stack back in the briefcase, then handed her a manila envelope. “This is our initial proposal. Very rough, but it’ll give you an idea how we’re going to help. Take a quick look at that as soon as possible. I’ll be back in touch tomorrow or the day after tomorrow at the latest.” He shut the briefcase, and placed the Vogue on the countertop. “It’s yours. Enjoy.”
“That’s very sweet! Thank you.”
“I’m done here. Just need to get a few shots of the front.”
Mary set the envelope on the kitchen counter, and escorted Alex to the door. “You are a savior. I’m glad you came out early.”
“Glad I could help. You’ll be hearing from me very soon.”
She shut and bolted the front door. Through the front bay windows, she watched Alex step over fallen branches and debris while he snapped several pictures of the mess outside. Back in the kitchen, Mary checked on the baby still sleeping peacefully in its car carrier.
She spotted the manila envelope lying on the far counter.
Mary sat at the bar and reviewed the numbers. They looked decent. Direct. And fair. To be honest, they were probably more-than-fair. There was a small arrow drawn at the bottom, so she flipped to the next page. It wasn’t a piece of paper, but an 8x10 black and white glossy of a building with a truck parked out front. Mary blinked. What the hell… That’s the...What’s this doing—
A frigid wave shot down her trunk. Her breaths came quickly.
She again focused on the picture. There was something scribbled at the bottom edge.
Look behind you.
Mary spun around in her chair but saw nothing but the dining room wall ten feet ahead and the sun room through the rounded archway. She inhaled and shivered.
“I think that’s your best shot,” said the voice from behind her.
She shrieked, dropping the insurance proposal and photo. Alex stood across the spacious kitchen, and he had the sleeping baby cradled in the crux of his left arm. Mary gasped.
“The Murrah Building. Outstanding work.”
He moved toward her.
“Please give me my baby!”
She could see that in his right hand he gripped a gun with a very long barrel. It was capped by a silencer.
“Oh my God. No.”
He stroked the baby’s cheek with the barrel.
“Shhh. Don’t wake her.” He came around the granite bar. “Let’s talk about that photo.”
Mary edged back. “How did you get that?”
“You took it,” he said.
“I did not! I don’t know why you think—“
Alex dug the tip of the gun into the baby’s neck, and wrapped his finger around the trigger.
“Okay! Okay! I took it,” she blubbered between sobs. “Why are you here? Who are you? Oh my god!”
He pulled back the gun, repositioning the baby in his arm. For a moment, it stirred but settled in and went back to sleep.
“There. You are capable of telling the truth.”
“What are you doing with that picture?” Her lips began to quiver. Mary edged back to the dining room wall. “You’re one of them.”
“Step away from the wall,” he ordered.
“Don’t hurt my baby. I’ll scream.”
He cocked the gun once again.
“Please. What do you want? Who gave you that pic—”
“You didn’t really think we would overlook your part in this, did you?”
“Don’t,” she cried. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing. How was I supposed to know who was going to be in that picture? I didn’t…How…”
He motioned with the gun. “Step toward me.”
She hesitated then took two tentative steps. Eyes glued on the reposing child.
“I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“That isn’t good enough.”
“I was just doing my job. I worked for the city! Ask them!”
He frowned. “And then this pitiful attempt at witness protection. You thought we wouldn’t find you?”
She was now gasping for air. “Not my baby. Anything but my baby.”
Grabbing the Vogue off the counter, he held it up. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? And you, my friend, are going to do your part in bringing us together.”
“What do you mean?”
He dropped the magazine, clenched his jaws and jammed the gun back into the baby’s neck. The child stirred and began to wail.
“This is going to be bloody. How I hate messes.”
“NO.”
He again wrapped his finger around the trigger.
“And you made this mess possible. I just want you to know that.”
“GOD.
