18
Rose was wakened from a sensual dream about Colt by knocking on her front door. She opened her eyes but lay still for a second, glassy eyed.
What time is it? It’s light, but only barely.
The knocking came again, persistent.
“One second!” she shouted, getting up and throwing on pajama bottoms and a robe.
As she headed to the front door, the person pounded on the door. “All right! All right.”
She opened the door, expecting Shelby. Instead it was a blonde woman with her hair in a haphazard ponytail, makeup running down her face.
“Hi?” Rose said, confused.
“Have you seen Jack?” the woman asked, pure desperation.
“Um… no. I was asleep,” Rose said.
“I just know his father has taken him!” the woman said, dissolving in tears. She collapsed on Rose’s front stoop, leaving Rose to puzzle
