He approached the admissions desk, waiting for the clerk to finish up with an elderly couple. Once they walked away, he began speaking with her. She seemed pleasant, pointing and nodding and smiling. Shepley patted the desk a couple of times before saying thank you and then returned to us.

“They’re taking her to the maternity wing on the third floor. They said we should go to the waiting room up there.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” I said.

Agent Blevins was in my peripheral, using his tiny radio, I assumed to update the person on the other end of our whereabouts. I knew he couldn’t tell us any more information, so I tried not to dwell on it. An entire department of people in the FBI knew more about what danger our family was facing than we did. The very principle, even beyond a sound reason, infuriated me, but I had to focus on Abby.

We found an elevator and crowded inside—all eleven of us—including Agent Blevins. The elevator dipped a bit when he stepped on, but he didn’t seem worried. Olive pressed the button, and the doors swept shut. The kids were uncharacteristically quiet while the red digital number above the door climbed with each floor. Finally, the door opened, and Trenton stepped off, the rest of us filing out behind him.

Trenton immediately fished out his phone, looking at Agent Blevins. “Have you heard from Perkins yet?”

“He’s arrived at the location. He’s currently waiting for Mrs. Maddox to enter the vehicle. There is a security guard presenting a small problem.”

Trenton smiled. “That’s Drew. He’s the bouncer. Good kid. I should call her. Tell her it’s okay to leave with him.”

Agent Blevins touched his ear. “She’s in the car, sir. Agent Perkins will deliver her to the hospital shortly.”

Trenton seemed satisfied and put his phone away before approaching the nurse’s station. A woman with big green eyes and a platinum blond bob led us to the waiting room, even though most of us knew where it was already. Travis and Abby’s third child would be the sixth Maddox grandbaby born in Eakins. We were very familiar with the maternity ward.

“In here,” the nurse said. “Snacks and drink machines are out and around the corner.” She gestured to the hall and to her right. “Someone will be in to update you as soon as they know something.”

“The baby is early, but he’ll be all right, right?” I asked.

The nurse smiled. “Our entire staff is waiting and ready to make sure he’s given the best care possible.”

I turned to my family. “I guess he heard Stella was coming and couldn’t wait to meet her,” I said with a contrived smile. No one responded except for Shepley, who simply patted my leg. For James and Jessica’s sake, I tried not to show any worry. Abby’s due date was still seven weeks away, and even though the delivery might go smoothly, we wouldn’t know how the baby was doing until after he was born. It was enough of a hint that the adults were so quiet, very different from the giddy excitement the other times our family had spent time in that room.

The nurse returned with blankets and pillows. “These are if the kids want to rest for a bit. Abby’s water broke. They’ve done an ultrasound, and the doctor has evaluated the baby. He feels that to avoid the risk of infection and complications for both mom and baby, he will let the labor proceed.”

“Can I see her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

The nurse thought about it for half a second and then nodded. “Of course.”

I kissed Shepley quickly on the lips and waved to the kids. He switched off the light, and Trenton and Olive began making pallets on the couches. The kids whined before crawling in.

“Mommy!” Emerson cried.

“I’ll be right down the hall,” I said. “Daddy will tuck you in, and I’ll sit with you when I get back.”

“When will you be back?” Eli asked, pouting. He was trying not to cry.

“Soon. Before you fall asleep. Snuggle with your brother until then.”

Eli turned his back to me, hooking his arm over Emerson. Shepley sat next to Ezra and winked at me before I left them to follow the nurse to Abby’s room.

The hard soles of my shoes echoed in the hallway, the warm color of the wallpapered walls a contrast to the cold, white tile floors. Generic pictures of mother and babies, traditional families with infomercial smiles, lined the walls, selling their brand of normality. Most people would go home dealing with a colicky baby, or postpartum depression, or the struggles of a broken family. Abuse, drugs, insecurity, poverty, fear. First-time moms left this place every day, going home with the vision we see in every diaper commercial of a mother rocking her sleeping infant in an immaculate nursery. Within a month, those same moms would be begging their baby in the wee hours of the morning to sleep, answering the door with vomit on her shirt, and choosing whether to shower or eat, clean, or sleep. I wondered how many four-member families actually left the maternity ward financially stable and emotionally whole because our baby was coming into the world greeted by two great parents who were crazy in love and a large, loving extended family yet still needed the protection of federal agents. What was normal, anyway?

I paused in the middle of the hall, the circumstances finally coming together. Abby’s father, Mick, was tangled with the Vegas mafia. She’d had more than one run-in with them to keep him alive. My intuition told me Mick was involved, but I couldn’t figure out what Thomas had to do with it. Why would they go after him?

The nurse stopped in front of a door and flattened one hand on the wood, the other on the handle. “Everything all right?” she asked, pausing when she realized I wasn’t right behind her.

“Yes,” I said, joining her outside the door.

Just as she began to push the door open, another nurse yanked on it from the inside, nearly running into us.

“I was just bringing her sister in to—”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “No visitors at this time. NICU will be standing by. She’s having the baby tonight.” She shouldered past us, and I peeked in as the door slowly closed. Several more nurses were working feverishly around Abby, but I couldn’t see her. I caught just a glimpse of Travis, looking over his shoulder at me with fear in his eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TAYLOR

THE MOMENT THE WHEELS OF THE PLANE touched down at O’Hare in Chicago, I switched my phone off the airplane mode and watched as the messages filled my lock screen. Before we’d taken off, Dad said everyone was at the hospital with Travis and Abby. According to the messages, the baby still hadn’t arrived, but Abby was close.