Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(102)

Was the Darden baby being hidden away in this farmhouse? Or had some lucky person who lived here hit the jackpot at their baby shower?

Afton folded the blanket and tucked it under her arm along with her ice ax. Then she stepped out into a hallway. Way down at the far end of the house, probably in another room—the living room?—a television set blared loudly. It was an afternoon soap opera from the sound of the dialogue. Some woman with a high, chirpy voice haranguing a guy named Jeff. Calling him a lousy two-timer.

Good. Hopefully, all that noise would cover the sounds of her footsteps.

There was a narrow doorway directly to Afton’s left. Slowly, carefully, she pushed the door open with the tips of her fingers and peered in. Her first impression was that of a Greek chorus of dead-eyed babies. But as she continued to stare in, she knew they were dolls, dozens of dolls, all posed on shelves. There were dolls with luxurious flaxen hair, dolls dressed in tiny little onesies, and dolls with arms and legs so pink and plump you almost wanted to reach out and pinch them. At the same time, the sheer number of them was eerie. One doll, okay. Four dozen of the strange little things, definitely disturbing.

Afton pulled the door closed and moved on to the narrow staircase that loomed just to her left. Were there bedrooms upstairs? Probably. And if there were bedrooms, there just might be a crib with a baby tucked into it.

Very slowly, very deliberately, Afton began to climb the stairs. The staircase was narrow—she could almost touch the walls with both elbows—and the treads were shallow. It was as if the house had been constructed in a much earlier era for smaller, more utilitarian people.

Afton hesitated when she reached the top of the stairs and looked around. There was a bedroom off to her right, the door standing wide open. She could see two more doors down the dim hallway ahead.

Was there a surprise behind door number one?

Afton chose the bedroom to her right. Tiptoed up to the doorway and poked her head in.

There was a girl sleeping in the bed, her face gone slack as she snored softly. From the looks of her, she was probably no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. But what made Afton catch her breath was the baby nestled in a homemade wooden crib right next to the girl’s bed.

Stepping into the room, Afton’s fingers twitched. She was ready to snatch up this baby and run like hell. She reached down, anxious, nervous, and caught herself just in time. Because, dear Lord, this was a newborn baby, not a three-month-old baby.

Was she in the wrong place? Her mind was suddenly in turmoil. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t have erred this badly. And there was the telltale pink cashmere blanket . . .

The girl under the covers stirred slightly. Then her eyes came open and she stared blankly up at Afton. Slowly, her mind seemed to process the fact that there was a woman standing by her bedside, dressed in snow gear and holding an ice ax. Her face convulsed with fear.

“Who are you?” Shake asked in a tremulous voice as she struggled to sit up. “What are you doing here?”

Afton said the first thing that popped into her head.

“I’m here for the baby.”

Shake shrank back in terror. Then she seemed to muster her courage and flung an arm out as if to protect the baby sleeping beside her. “Please,” she said, “I’m begging you, don’t take my baby. I know I signed all the papers and everything, but I changed my mind. I really did.” She hiccupped hard as tears welled in her eyes. “I made a terrible mistake.”

“This is your baby?” Afton asked. She wasn’t quite sure what this poor girl was babbling about.

Shake bobbled her head. “Me and Ronnie’s, yes.”

Afton peered into the homemade crib again, as if to make sure of what she was seeing. “This baby’s a newborn.”

“Please,” Shake begged. “I only just had her last night. But I love her.”

“You just gave birth to her? Here? Last night?”

Shake suddenly looked confused. “No, I think it might have been two nights ago.” She pressed both hands against her face and peered through her fingers. “I don’t know, you’re scaring me. You’re getting me all confused.”

Afton knew she didn’t have much time. “What’s your name?”

“Shake. My real name is Sharice but everybody calls me Shake.”

“How many people live here, Shake?”

“Um . . . three of us. Well, five if you count the babies.”

Afton felt a kind of pop deep inside her brain. “There’s another baby?”

Shake seemed to choke down her fear then. “Who are you?”

“I’m with the Minneapolis Police Department.”

Now Shake was more flustered than fearful. “Oh shit, I knew there was something bad going on. You’re here because of Marjorie, aren’t you? She’s crazy, you know. She brought that kid home and—” Shake stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute. You came here to get that baby?”

Afton’s heart leapt. “That baby’s still here?”

Shake nodded. “Yeah, sure she is. Well, I think she is. I’ve been sleeping and—”

“Where is she?” Afton knew she’d been at this too long. She was pressing her luck. “Where have they been keeping her?”

Shake curled a finger and pointed. “The room next to this one.”