Then I noticed something else.
Sophie wasn’t acting like someone who had stolen a baby or made a reckless decision. She was acting like someone protecting a person who was frightened and vulnerable.
“Is the baby’s mother alive?” I asked.
Sophie nodded. “She’s safe. I promise.”
That was enough for me.
“Then get in the car. We’ll figure everything out at home.”
During the drive, Sophie explained that the baby belonged to a young woman named Mia, who worked in housekeeping at the resort. Mia needed somewhere safe for a few days while she worked enough hours to afford a deposit on a room.
But Sophie refused to tell me anything else.
“She just needs time,” she whispered.
When we arrived home, Sophie carried the baby upstairs. I tried to give her space, but later that night, something sticking out of the diaper bag caught my attention.
