“Are you inside your house now?” he asked, serious, official, cop-like.

My heart picked up speed again. I’d been so prepared to be dismissed out of hand. “No, I’m in my car a few blocks away with my daughter. Someone left a box in my living room while we were asleep. I’m sure I’m overreacting, but—”

“Stay where you are for now,” Steve said. “Give me your address and I’ll check it out.”

By the time Steve had called me to return home, it was barely misting.

He was leaning against an unmarked car—maybe just his car—when I arrived, looking much younger in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I parked behind him, quietly unbuckling my seat belt and leaving the car running as I got out, hoping Ella would stay asleep.

“Morning,” he said, nodding at me, then flicking his eyes disapprovingly in the direction of my humming car.

“I was hoping Ella would stay asleep in there,” I explained.

Steve nodded, but his brow stayed furrowed. “Well, there’s no one in your house.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “I was home with Ella alone; my husband left early. And when I woke up, there was this strange box sitting inside our living room. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Did your husband leave the door unlocked when he left?”

“Maybe,” I said. Because entering without breaking in wasn’t a big a deal? Except someone had still invited him- or herself into my home and left God knows what. A baby, my crazy brain jumped there. A dead baby in a box. I was lucky Justin couldn’t read my mind. “We lock the door at night. And when we go out. But when we’re home during the day . . .”

No one in the suburbs ever locks their door, I wanted to say. That’s the whole point of living here.

“In the future, I’d keep it locked, always. Ridgedale isn’t a big city, but reasonable precautions make sense anywhere.” He nodded toward my car. “I also wouldn’t leave a sleeping child unattended in a running car.”

“Right, of course,” I said, fully mortified. “Did you, um, check what was inside the box?”

“Just enough to see that it’s some kind of papers.” He held up his hands. “Didn’t read what’s on them. Don’t want to be accused of interfering with the press. My guess is someone put them inside to keep them out of the rain.”

We didn’t have any overhang, and it had been pouring. The box would have gotten soaked. And so the person just went ahead and opened our door? Steve was presenting it like a normal thing to do. But it wasn’t normal. Not even in Ridgedale.

“What happens now?”

“That’s up to you. Happy to open an investigation. But you should know we’ll need to keep the box, mark it as evidence.”

“That hadn’t occurred to me.”

“That’s why I mention it. I’m not trying to discourage you from pursuing this. That’s entirely up to you. But this kind of thing happens. Years ago, during some mayoral campaign, somebody put a dead rat in Jim McManus’s mailbox—he was the Reader’s editor in chief at the time.” Steve shook his head. “Man, was his wife bent out of shape. Anyway, my guess is this has something to do with your articles. Isn’t that what you people want? A reaction?”

Steve was aggravated about something I’d written. That was obvious. “‘You people’?”

“Meaning your editors.” He rubbed his forehead. He still looked aggravated. But also like he didn’t want to be. “Nothing personal, but they must like that you’re willing to stir the pot. That’s all I meant. It must sell papers or get you clicks or whatever it is you all want these days.”

But my articles had been far from controversial.

“Is there something specific I’ve written that you’re taking issue with?”

“Just pointing out the facts. And the fact is, you’ve riled people up. This ‘find him, he’s out there, another Ridgedale murder’ nonsense. People are going crazy in the comments to your articles.”

I felt a queasy twist in my stomach. I didn’t even want to know those comments existed. Between that and the files and the pressure from Justin, I might beat a hasty retreat from journalism after all.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” I said, and I didn’t like the feeling that Steve did. “I don’t read the comments on my articles.”

Steve frowned and looked uncomfortable. He wasn’t frustrated with me, I was realizing. He was just frustrated.

“So what’ll it be with the situation here?” he asked, looking at his watch.

I didn’t much want to see what was in the box, but I couldn’t imagine letting the police take it without looking through it first. What if it was something important?

“I don’t think I’ll pursue investigating. But thank you so much for coming.” I did appreciate the way Steve had rushed over, no questions asked.

He nodded, pushed himself off his car, and turned toward the driver’s door. “Not a problem. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“Before you go, is there any news about the baby?” I asked.

“You’re interviewing me now?” Steve raised an eyebrow as he stood in his open car door. “Seriously?”

“You’re here.” I shrugged. “And you did say I could follow up.”

He shook his head and exhaled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

The old me did not. It was good being reminded of her. Justin was wrong about this story. It was exactly what I needed. “No, I don’t.”

“ME says it’ll be another couple days before we have an official cause of death.”

“Does that mean he’s still having a hard time determining it?”

Steve’s face tightened. “It means it’s going to take another couple days.”

“But it could still be a homicide?”

“It hasn’t been ruled out. All the more reason we need someone to come forward. And that I hope you do write: Someone out there knows who this baby belongs to, and we need to hear from them.”

My phone vibrated with a text. I pulled it out, thinking it was Justin needing further reassurance that Ella and I were okay after my first cryptic text about some anonymous box.

Coffee after drop-off?

Stella. Shit. Did she seriously have to text me with Steve standing right here, staring at me? He’d specifically asked me to contact him if I heard from her. I’d have to say something. I couldn’t lie for her, not that much. I’d just say as little as I could.

“Stella.” I held up my phone. “I guess she’s back.” Why had I made it sound like she was on the run? “Or here. I don’t know that she ever left.”

“Yes, I spoke with Stella late last night,” Steve said. “She claims she doesn’t know where Rose is. Was surprised as anyone to hear that she had disappeared.”

“You don’t sound like you believe her.”

Steve had a hand on the door and one leg in the car. He looked back at me. “Would you?”

RIDGEDALE READER

Print Edition

March 18, 2015

Body of Deceased Female Infant Discovered Near Essex Bridge

BY MOLLY SANDERSON

The body of a female infant was discovered early yesterday morning by Ridgedale University Campus Safety in a wooded area near the Essex Bridge. The cause of death and exact age of the infant remain unknown, pending the release of official findings by the medical examiner.

The grim discovery of the baby’s body has come as a shock to many in the community.

“I can’t believe something like this happened here,” said Stephanie Kelsor, a mother of two who has lived in Ridgedale for seven years. “What a tragedy.”

Others saw the situation differently.

“People here like to pretend they’re perfect,” says Patrick Walker, owner of Pat’s Pancakes. “But they’ve got the same problems as anywhere else. They’ve just got more money to cover it up.”

Historically, crime rates in Ridgedale have been very low, with minor property crimes the most common offense. Serious crime is all but nonexistent in town. In the past two decades, there have been only two murders and six reported rapes.