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Lost and Found Baby

Written by Hope White

Chapter Ten

“What a good girl,” Katy said, watching the child sleep peacefully in the dresser drawer.

It’s my fault Steven’s dead.

Luke’s words taunted her. No, that was his guilt and grief talking. Luke wasn’t responsible for her brother’s death. However, if he believed it to be true, that could explain why he’d been avoiding her for the past two years.

What a heavy burden for him to carry. The knot of hurt and resentment in her chest eased a bit, replaced by compassion and understanding.

She and Luke had shared a special bond growing up, a rare friendship between a boy and a girl. Not wanting to ruin it with the notion of romance, she’d made sure never to cross that line.

The thought of losing Luke, her best friend, would have been devastating. Scratch that. It had been devastating.

Now he was back in town, but not to make amends with Katy or rekindle their friendship. Luke was back to sell his family’s home. Well, that wouldn’t happen unless they worked together to survive.

With renewed energy, she focused on solving the mystery of the abandoned child. She analyzed the original blanket the baby was left in, and noticed a hand-sewn label in the corner: A Gift from LOSC.

“Ladies of Our Savior’s Church,” she said. That was the group at Katy’s church that made and collected clothing for struggling young mothers. Encouraged that this might be a lead, she called Leslie, who also belonged to LOSC.

“Katy, I’ve been worried,” Leslie answered.

“I’m okay for now. I’m trying to figure out the identity of this child and noticed her blanket has an LOSC label on it. Do you guys keep a record of who receives your donations?”

“Sure. What’s the ID number?”

“There’s an ID number?”

“There should be letters and numbers on the other side of the label?”

Katy turned it over. “IS 33:2 MB.”

IS stands for Isaiah. MB is Mary Brandywine.”

“Does that mean she donated the blanket personally?”

“Not necessarily, but it will help me track where it went after she made it. I’ll check and get back to you.”

“Thanks.” Katy hung up and considered calling hospitals to ask about children born with unusual birthmarks on their back thigh. It was a long shot because they probably wouldn’t give her information over the phone.

Something pounded against the front door.

Katy instinctively pulled her piece out of her ankle holster and went into the living room.

Her palms beaded with sweat as she clutched the grip of her gun, waiting for whatever came next. She struggled to stay present, to push back childhood trauma that she thought she’d buried.

Danger, violence, maybe even death. He was coming and all she could do was stay quiet and hide. It was her stepfather all over again.

No, she’d moved past that. She was an adult, a sheriff’s deputy.

The door burst open…

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About the author

I was born and raised in the midwest and migrated to the Pacific north...

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Hope White

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