turned down a street that had no streetlights. The pavement changed to dirt road. The area consisted of rundown adobe houses and two apartment buildings that looked badly in need of repair. Some of the windows were boarded up, shot out or had gang symbols graffiti all over them. One man came to the door and watched them as they rolled by, his gaze as cold as steel. Most people probably hid inside at this hour, doors bolted against the violence.
Kylie pointed. “It must be the apartment building at the end of the street.”
Loud music with an intense bass beat erupted from a side street. Austin eased the car off the road, turned off the ignition and killed the lights.
“Stay down,” he said. “This could be fine, but let’s not take any chances.”
Kylie crouched down below the dashboard. Driving the border patrol vehicle only made them a bigger target in this neighborhood. Her hand brushed over her gun as her pulse thudded in her eardrums. If they were faced with gang activity, they would not have the firepower to get out alive.
Austin kept his head low, as well. The music swelled to full volume. The whole street seemed to be pounding. The vibrations shook their car. Through the open window, she heard the dissonant harmony of men verbally jousting with each other in Spanish. A single gunshot echoed along the street.
Austin rolled the window up. The windows had wire mesh on them to protect them when people threw rocks at them, which happened a lot. But that wouldn’t prevent them from being dragged out into the street and shot.
Kylie flinched at the gunshot but maintained her composure.
Austin peered above the dashboard. “Just shooting in the air.” His voice never lost that calming tone. “Showing off their machismo.”
They waited for what seemed like forever until the music and the drunken conversation died away altogether. The men must have gone inside one of the buildings.
Austin sat back up and drove the car forward toward the building where little Mercedes was being kept safe...she hoped.
He shifted into Park. “Let’s make this fast.” They got out of the car. They were so close to the border, Kylie could hear the traffic rushing by on the Cesar Chavez Highway.
“She’s on the second floor. Apartment twenty-seven.” Valentina had an arrangement with an older woman named Doris to watch the baby while she was at classes. Hopefully, that was who was with the baby now.
They hurried into the building past the debris of old newspapers, heaping plastic bags, broken toys. Kylie’s heart raced as she took the stairs two at a time. Austin came up behind her. She stood in front of apartment twenty-seven. She knocked twice. No answer.
She turned the knob and called inside as fear gripped her heart. She dared not cry out, just in case someone with ill intent waited inside. What if they were too late? What if the same people who killed Valentina had already gone after her baby?
She stepped across the threshold. Austin had already drawn his weapon. The kitchen was run-down but neat. Clean dishes were stacked in the cupboards with no doors. The worn linoleum floor was mopped. There was something poignant about the Thanksgiving centerpiece in the middle of the table. Sorrow washed over Kylie. Valentina had really tried to make a nice home for her baby.
Kylie drew her attention to a pattern of holes on the wall, a spray of bullets. Her throat went tight.
Austin cupped her shoulder. “Those bullet holes could have been there for years.”
How was he able to pick up on her distress like that?
She turned a slow half circle, looking for hiding places.
Please, God, let that little girl be here and safe.
The apartment was small. She saw a closed door off to the right that must be a bedroom. She pulled her gun as she made her way toward it. Austin stayed close.
She eased the door open. The room consisted of a mat and blankets on the floor next to a stack of textbooks. There was no sign of a crib or basket for a baby.
“We have to find that little girl. I’m not going to break my promise to Valentina.”
“Sometimes in dangerous neighborhoods, people have hiding places.” Austin paced the perimeter of the room, stopping to stare at the closet. He tapped on the walls until the sound changed inside the closet. He leaned in, pulling a thin panel out of place.
Kylie saw what was probably a hot water heater. She pulled her flashlight from her belt just as a baby’s cry erupted in the darkness. Her heart surged with joy at the sound. She shone the light on a gray-haired woman holding a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.
Kylie spoke in Spanish. “Doris, right? Valentina told me about you. I’m Kylie.”
The woman still looked frightened. She replied, speaking so rapidly in Spanish her words seemed to be stacked on top of each other. She said something about men banging on the door looking for Valentina.
Kylie leaned in and held out her arms. “It’s okay now.”
Doris rose to her feet, still holding the baby. “Valentina?”
Kylie shook her head. “She didn’t make it.” The pain of the loss hit Kylie all over again. Her stomach tied into knots.
Though clearly upset, Doris placed the bundle in Kylie’s arms. Kylie stared down at deep brown eyes and rosebud lips. She felt as though warm honey were dripping over her. Those eyes. So filled with trust. Would she be able to take care of someone so helpless?
The baby brushed her fingers under Kylie’s chin. Mercedes knew Kylie. Valentina had brought her to their meetings when she couldn’t get a sitter, and Kylie watched her in early service when she had nursery duty.
Not taking her eyes off of Mercedes, Kylie stepped back so Doris could get out.
The woman continued to talk, waving her hands, telling more about how the men had frightened her. She gathered a bag up off the floor and placed it in Austin’s hands saying a single word. “Papa?”
Kylie felt her cheeks flush. For some reason, Doris had thought she and Austin were a couple. “No, he’s just a friend.” She locked Austin in her gaze. He looked equally embarrassed. Just a very good friend.
Austin examined the contents of the bag. “It looks like baby clothes and paperwork giving you legal custody of the baby. A judge probably has to sign off on it.”
Kylie held Mercedes close to her chest. The child’s silky smooth cheek rubbed against her own as Kylie felt the warmth of the little body. She breathed in a prayer that she would be able to take care of Mercedes.
Doris pointed at a baby bag with ducks carrying umbrellas on it. Austin picked the second bag up, carrying both bags in one hand. Doris, who was probably not more than four feet tall, hurried over to Kylie.
She stood on tiptoe to kiss Mercedes’s forehead. “Mi dulce bebé. God will take care of you.”
Through
