Page 44 of Justice II

For a second, I thought Monica had carried her inside and left the seat. Then I saw her little hand sticking out from beneath the blanket.

“Storie.”

She was barely six months old and she was all alone in the fuckin’ car. And it was cold as hell. The temperature was in the 40s.

The engine was off. And I panicked as the cold pushed against my bare hands and face.

I tugged at the car door but that shit was locked.

“Monica!”

I ran into the house and went straight to the kitchen counter. Her keys weren't there. I checked the little bowl by the door, then grabbed her purse off a chair.

“Monica, where the fuck are your keys?”

I dumped the purse onto the table. Her wallet fell out with a bunch of receipts and some lip gloss. I pushed everything aside, searching for the keys.

“Monica!”

Nobody answered.

I looked toward the stairs. The house was quiet, and I had no idea how long my daughter had been sitting out there.

I went back outside.

I broke a window away from her seat and got the door open. My hands wouldn’t cooperate with me as I undid the straps. I was so nervous but she was alive.

“Come on, baby. Come on.”

The second I lifted her, she started crying.

I pulled her against me and covered her with my coat. Her face was cold. I kept touching her cheek while I carried her into the house, trying to get a good look at her.

“Daddy got you.”

She cried harder, her little fingers catching in my shirt.

Monica appeared at the top of the stairs as I came through the door. Her hair was a mess, and she stood there blinking like she hadn't figured out where she was yet.

“What happened?”

“What happened?” I stared up at her. “You left Storie in the fucking’ car.”

She looked at the baby in my arms, then toward the front door.

“No, I didn't.”

“I just got her out. Where the hell have you been?”

She hurried down the stairs.

“I thought I brought her in.”

“Well, you didn't. How long ago did you get home?”

“I don't know. I laid down for a minute.”

“How long, Monica?”