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The two cups of coffee had already gone cold when I saw my husband helping a pregnant woman out of his car. I was standing behind the glass doors connecting St. Matthew’s cafeteria to the private maternity wing, exhausted after my fourth night sleeping in a chair beside his mother’s hospital bed. Then Daniel Mercer placed one protective hand beneath the woman’s elbow, lifted her overnight bag with the other, and walked her toward the entrance as if the child beneath her blue dress belonged to him.
Chapter 2 Denise answered her phone even though it was after nine. When I read her the filing number, she became so quiet that I...
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