Surrogate Escape. Jenna Kernan

one, what, three years later?”

      “Five.” March sixteenth, just two days after his own birthday. And the wedding was exchanged for a funeral. The white dress stored and the black dress purchased. Jake’s mother had been relieved that he would not have to marry “that girl.” He’d worn his first suit, his wedding suit, to his daughter’s funeral. His upper and lower teeth collided again, and he ground them side to side.

      Jake looked away. He’d been a good kid and made his mother proud, mostly. And he’d always tried to give her something, anything to bring her joy. His dad had been in prison, his oldest brother in medical school, and Ty was shipping out on his first tour. He’d been the man of the house at sixteen, and he’d made a mistake with Lori.

      “Have you seen the baby yet?” asked Jake.

      Tinnin’s thick brows lifted, and he gave a shake of his head. His boss was thin to the point of being gaunt. Gray streaked his collar-length hair in a way that made it look as if he’d accidentally leaned into a freshly painted wall, the white clinging to just the top layer of his scalp. The bags and circles under his eyes were perpetual. His jeans and denim coat made him look like a cowboy, unless you noted the shield clipped to his belt and the bulge where he wore his .45 caliber pistol.

      “Why would I need to see her?”

      “She has blue eyes,” said Jake.

      “All babies have blue eyes. No pigment yet.”

      “And blond hair.”

      Tinnin shifted, taking the pressure off his injured foot. “You think that baby is white?”

      “Seemed so. I was there when Mom brought Abbie home, and I’ve been on a call for a woman delivering.”

      “Genevieve Ruiz,” he said.

      Jake nodded. “I’ve seen newborn Apache babies. This one is different.”

      “Might go see for myself.”

      “I’ll come with you.”

      They headed to town in separate vehicles. Tinnin followed Jake to the tribe’s urgent-care facility. Tinnin parked in a handicapped spot, and Jake walked slowly beside him through the emergency intake area. They passed Verna Dia heading for her car. She cast them a wave and tossed her bag into her passenger seat.

      Inside the urgent-care area, they were greeted and waved on by another nurse, Nina Kenton. There was staff on duty now and patients already waiting. The clinic wasn’t open overnight, though they did have a few rooms if they needed them, but that meant one of the staff had to work overtime, which cost money. The clinic was only six years old, furnished by casino profits, and it ran a deficit every year.

      They waved to familiar faces as they headed to the baby wing, as Jake called it. This was a unique section of the facility, the women’s health clinic, and included birthing rooms, exam rooms and a nursery. They found Lori with the chief physician, Dr. Hector Hauser, in the nursery, both wearing surgical masks over their faces. The bassinets were lined up but mostly empty. Jake spotted only two tiny sleeping faces.

      This, then, was why Lori had been at work so early. She had become the favored delivery nurse because, according to their dispatcher, Lori was gaining clinical experience in preparation for taking the certification exam to become a neonatal nurse. She spent her life trying to bring healthy babies into the world, and Jake had to wonder at that. He also wondered why she had not married. Of the Mott sisters, only Lori and Dominique were single, and Dominique was still in high school. The Mott girls had a family history of marrying young and filling the tribe’s rosters with new members.

      Tinnin paused at the locked door to the nursery. They could go no farther without access. This area remained locked to keep unauthorized people from doing something stupid, like snatching a baby, but they could see in through the viewing window.

      Dr. Hauser had the tiny girl on a digital scale as she kicked and fussed, with Lori standing watch. Hauser’s jowly face made him look both sad and serious. Unlike many in their tribe, Hauser kept fit and trim, but the lines at his eyes and the flesh at his neck told that he was well past his middle years.

      The doctor leaned in, speaking to Lori, who recorded something—the weight, Jake assumed—in the chart neatly held to the metal clipboard.

      Lori then set aside the chart and expertly lifted the tiny pink girl and bundled her in a soft-looking flannel wrap. She placed the girl on her shoulder and did a little bounce to comfort the infant. She seemed completely relaxed with a baby on her shoulder. Jake found himself smiling. It was at that moment she turned and noticed him there. Their gazes met, and she smiled back. He knew this by the crinkling of her eyes at the corners. She turned the newborn so he could see the tiny face, as if he were the nervous father coming to see his baby girl. Lori nodded at the baby and then glanced back to him. Look what we did, she seemed to say. We saved this little one.

      He nodded, his smile broadening as a familiar warmth welled inside him. This was how she had once looked at him, and he missed it.

      The warm welcome in Lori’s eyes as she continued the rhythmic bounce made her look so different from how he usually saw her. They’d begun a routine of her spotting him when he had business at the clinic and him pretending not to see her, his eyes shifting away as he searched for an escape route. The only time he allowed himself to look at her was when she didn’t know he was there. Until today. Now he saw her and she saw him. Something inside his chest tightened.

      Tinnin made a sound in his throat. “That baby is white.”

      “I think so,” said Jake.

      “All white, I mean.”

      “Agreed.”

      “So, if the papa wasn’t Apache, why would a white girl come up here to have a baby?”

      * * *

      LORI SET THE sleeping baby into the bassinet and then let Chief Tinnin and Jake Redhorse into the delivery room. Hauser lowered his mask to offer a greeting as he stepped past them. Then he headed down the corridor toward the urgent-care area and the patients already waiting. Lori offered her two visitors both a mask. Tinnin’s limp was growing worse by the minute.

      “How is she?” asked Tinnin, holding the mask to his face.

      “She’s perfect. A little small but otherwise healthy.” She glanced at Jake, keeping her distance. The joy had fled, and now her steady gaze held a familiar caution.

      Her attention flicked back to the chief.

      “We need a blood type,” said Tinnin.

      “We do that routinely. I’ll be sure you get a copy of the results.”

      “What about the baby?” Jake interjected.

      “I’ll be here until Burl arrives.”

      Burl Tsosie was one of the four nurses here, along with Lori, Nina and Verna.

      “Any word from Protective Services?” asked Tinnin.

      “Not yet, but they usually make us the temporary guardians. That gives them time to secure placement, if the mother isn’t found.”

      “She’s not getting that baby even if she is found.” Jake’s outrage crept into his voice. “Because I’m placing her under arrest.”

      Lori’s eyes rolled up, and the breath she let out was audible.

      He glanced at the baby, sleeping peacefully, her tiny eyelashes fanning her pink cheeks. She’d be placed and adopted, he realized. Why did that eventuality make his chest ache? He met Lori’s gaze and saw she also looked troubled. They’d found her, and somehow that gave him a personal stake in what happened to this baby girl.

      “When?” said Tinnin, referring to the arrival of a Protective Services representative.

      “I’m not sure,” said Lori. “They have an office in Globe and one in Flagstaff. Depends on what other business they have.”