The Baby Assignment. Christy Barritt
Tanner, he would probably check it out not only during work hours but on his own time. He was that type of guy. He crossed every t and dotted every i. He wouldn’t stop until the job got done and until he got it done right.
Macy moved to the bed and lay down. She pressed her head into her pillow, wishing all her burdened thoughts would disappear. Wishing she could go to sleep, wake up and realize all this was a bad dream.
Finally, after tossing and turning for several hours, Macy couldn’t take it anymore. She threw the covers off and decided to get some water—quietly, so she wouldn’t disturb anyone.
The entire house seemed incredibly still, as if everyone slumbered, when she stepped into the hallway. The thought was hard to fathom considering everything that had happened. But maybe when you were the FBI, you learned to sleep during unrest or you’d never get shut-eye at all.
Macy reached the first floor and tiptoed toward the kitchen. She gasped when she spotted someone standing in the living room.
It was one of the FBI agents who was staying here.
Of course.
Macy grasped her fluttering heart, and her shoulders sagged with relief. The agent was blond and twentysomething with an honest-looking face. He’d seemed nice enough when they’d spoken earlier.
“Sorry,” Macy muttered. “I should have known someone would have night duty. You just startled me.”
He remained stiff and on guard. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m standing guard while everyone rests.”
“I’m going to grab some water,” she said, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Help yourself.”
“Agent Armstrong, right?” She stepped into the kitchen.
He shrugged. “Just call me George, since we’ll be working together closely for a while.”
“George, it is.” She paused and shifted her weight. “How long have you been with the FBI, George?”
“Only a year. This is my first assignment like this.”
“Oh, yeah? Have you worked with Agent Wilson a lot?” She was just trying to make small talk, but suddenly it felt invasive. She wanted to take the question back. Tanner was none of her business.
“Several times. I’ve never met a more dedicated agent.”
His words caused her to think a little too much. “Is that right?”
Armstrong nodded. “Some agents just live for this stuff. He’s one of them.”
“It’s a good thing he’s not married, huh?” Her words were tinged with a touch of bitterness.
“I’d say. It’s good for the people he works to find justice for, at least. Some agents just aren’t cut out for a family.”
Macy grabbed a glass from the cabinet and walked to the sink, not wanting to continue this conversation anymore. It just confirmed what she already knew: Tanner wasn’t the family type.
She flipped the faucet on and let the clear liquid fill the cup. As she did, her gaze wandered out the window in front of her, and she scanned the black landscape outside.
Darkness stared back at her. Of course. It was 1:00 a.m., and they were in the country. There were no streetlights out here. Not even a full moon tonight.
Suddenly, her muscles jerked with surprise. She blinked, clearing her vision.
There was a light in the distance. Two lights. Moving. Bobbing.
Like someone walking through the forest with a flashlight.
Macy dropped the glass into the sink, and it shattered into a thousand tiny shards. She hardly noticed as she slowly backed away from the window. Memories of the earlier attack filled her thoughts. Caused panic to take root inside her.
Had someone followed them here? Would they finish what they had started?
The image of the injured man at the psychotherapy center filled her thoughts. The blood. The near loss of life. The fear that hung heavy in the air.
“George,” she whispered. She raised a shaky finger toward the window and continued to back away.
The agent appeared at her side, his hand reaching for the gun at his waist. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s out there,” Macy said, her voice trembling and thin.
When would this nightmare end? Macy had thought they were safe. That maybe she could breathe for a moment. That she could take some time to sort her thoughts and gather her wits until this blew over.
It seemed that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon.
“What do you mean someone’s out there?” He rushed to the window.
“I saw a flashlight in the distance. In the woods. Two of them.”
“Are you sure?”
Macy nodded, unable to get the image out of her mind. “Positive.”
He pulled out his phone and made a call, suddenly all business. “Move to the center of the room, away from the doors. And stay down.”
His voice was marked with a definitive sense of urgency.
Five seconds later, Tanner rushed down the stairs.
He paused by her, and she could feel the adrenaline pumping off him. “Are you okay?”
Macy nodded, unsure if she was okay at all. Her limbs were a trembling mess, and she could hardly breathe as anxiety tried to close in.
“Tell me what you saw, Macy.”
She swallowed hard, desperate to compose herself. “It looked like flashlights bobbing in the distance. Like people were out there. Like they followed us here.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
His jaw flexed, and his gaze narrowed. “We’re going to check it out.”
She nodded and pointed behind her, wishing her head would stop swirling. “I should keep an eye on Addie.”
“Go upstairs. Wait with her. Stay there until we know what’s going on. I’ll leave Armstrong here to stand guard.”
Not this again. The waiting. The anticipating. The wondering. It would be a replay of what had happened earlier at the therapy center.
Her nerves couldn’t take it.
Before she hurried up the stairs, Tanner grabbed her arm.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Addie, okay?” His voice left no room for argument or disagreement.
Warmth flushed through her. The reaction was illogical, considering how much Tanner had hurt her. But, for a brief second, she’d believed him. Even appreciated him. And that was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Five years long.
Before Tanner could see the clashing emotions inside her, she rushed upstairs.
She darted into her room and over to the baby. She peered into the portable crib and released her breath. Addie was still sleeping peacefully with a blanket covering her lower half, and her hands thrust high above her head.
Thank you, Lord.
Macy locked the door. She paced, unable to sit still. Unable to stop picturing those lights. Unable to stop thinking about worst-case scenarios about what might happen next.
Against all logic and good sense, she crept toward the window. She had to know what was going on. Remaining in the dark was a hard spot to be in. A spot she didn’t want to be in.
Careful to remain at the edge of the window, Macy peered through the crack between the curtain and window frame. This room