Meg Gardiner - Into The Black Nowhere

The cry pierced the walls, ringing through the darkness. Shana Kerber roused and squinted at the clock. Twelve forty-five A . M .

Her voice came as a sigh. Already?

Shana huddled for a minute under the comforter, clinging wishfully to warmth and sleep. Hush yourself, Jaydee. Please. But the babys crying intensified. It was her strong, wide-awake, Im hungry cry.

The night was bitter. Early February, the north wind scouring Texas. It whistled through the cracks in the farmhouse, rattling the doors in their frames. Shana rolled over. The other side of the bed was cool. Brandon wasnt home yet.

For a few more seconds Shana lay still, aching with fatigue, hoping Jaydee would quiet. But she was crying to beat the band. Ten months old and still up twice a night. Shanas mom swore things would get easier. Shed been swearing so for months. When, Mom? Please, when?

Coming, baby, Shana murmured.

She tossed back the covers, brushed her sleep-tangled hair from her face, and slogged out of the bedroom. The hardwood floor creaked beneath her bare feet. Jaydees cries grew clearer.

Six feet down the hall, she slowed. The crying wasnt coming from the nursery.

The house was completely dark. Jaydee was too little to climb out of her crib.

Shana turned on the hall light. The nursery door was open.

A sliver of ice seemed to slide through her chest. At the far end of the hall she could see into the living room. On the sofa, half lit by the hall light, a stranger sat holding her little girl on his lap.

The icy sliver sank through Shana. What are you doing here?

Dont worry. Im a friend of your husband. The mans face was in shadow. His voice was soothingalmost warm. She was crying. Didnt want to wake you.

He seemed completely relaxed. Shana walked slowly to the living room. She glanced out the front window. The moon was full. An SUV was parked outside. A placard hung from the rearview mirror.

Is that... She looked him up and down. Army? Are you...

The baby twisted in the mans arms. He bounced her. Shes quite the little doll.

He tickled Jaydee and made baby talk. Shana tried harder to see his face. His eyes remained in shadow. Something stopped her from turning on the table lamp.

Is he a friend of Brandons?

Shana extended her hands. Ill take her.

The wind battered the windows. The mans smile persisted. Though she couldnt see his eyes, Shana had a gut certainty that he was watching her.

She edged forward. She was eight feet from him. Out of his reach. Give Jaydee to me.

He didnt.

Her hands were open. Please.

Jaydee twisted in the mans arms. Her chubby legs pumped like pistons. Shanas heart thundered. She saw the power in the mans hands and knew she couldnt simply charge at him.

The shotgun was under her bed. Five seconds was what it would take to run to the bedroom, grab it, and rush back down the hall. It was a twelve gauge. It was loaded.

And it was useless, because this man was holding her child to his chest. Her breathing caught, like a cloth snagging on a nail.

She inched forward. Give her here.

For a few seconds, he continued bouncing Jaydee. Crying, the little girl reached starfish fingers toward Shana.

She wants her mama, the man said. Aww, come here.

Shana held still, her own arms outstretched. Give me my baby.

The smile stiffened. The man set Jaydee gently beside him on the sofa.

Before Shana could inhale, he lowered his shoulders, gathering himself. He was in motion when the light finally hit his eyes.

The dashboard clock read one thirty A.M. when Brandon Kerber turned onto the gravel driveway. The truck bounced over the ruts, stereo blasting Chris Stapleton. Brandon whistled along. His rare Saturday night out had been goldena Spurs game in San Antonio with friends from his army days. He curved past the stand of cedars and the house came into view.

What...

The front door was open.

Brandon gunned the F-150 up to the house. The windows reflected the trucks headlights like wild eyes. He jumped out. In the wind, the door was banging back against the wall. An acid taste burned his throat. Banging that loud should have woken Shana up. Inside the darkened house, he heard a mournful sound.

Crying.

Brandon rushed in. The living room was cold. The headlights threw his shadow ahead of him on the floor like a blade. The crying kept up. It was the baby.

Jaydee lay huddled on the floor. He scooped her up. Shana?

He hit a light switch. The living room lit up, neat, clean, and empty.

Jaydees eyes were red-rimmed. She was exhausted from sobbing. He pulled her to his chest. Her cries diminished to pathetic hiccups.

Shana.

Brandon ran to the bedroom with the baby and flipped on the light. He spun and strode down the hall, looking in the nursery. In the kitchen. The garage. The back porch.

Nothing. Shana was gone.

He stood in the living room, clutching Jaydee, telling himself, Shes here. I just cant see her.

But the truth closed in on him. Shana had vanished.

She was the fifth.