Chapter 2 - THE GIRL IN THE TRAFFIC
Richard Adams had spent twenty-two years learning how to ignore distractions.
Chicago traffic.
Construction noise.
Angry investors.
Men protesting outside development sites.
People asking for money.
His entire career had been built on the ability to keep moving while everyone else stopped.
Then he saw the girl.
Richard's BMW was trapped at a red light less than three blocks from the Green View development when something moved beside an alley.
At first he thought it was a woman carrying groceries.
Then he noticed the bare legs beneath the oversized gray sweatshirt.
Too thin.
Too small.
A child.
She had one baby tied against her chest inside what looked like an old scarf.
The second was balanced against her hip.
A plastic grocery bag hung from two fingers.
The baby against her shoulder was crying.
The girl kept bouncing him while trying to cross the street.
Richard glanced at the traffic light.
Green.
The driver behind him honked.
Richard didn't move.
The girl reached the opposite sidewalk and nearly collapsed.
Richard pulled over.
He told himself it was because a child standing beside one of his development zones created liability.
That explanation lasted until he stepped out of the car.
“Hey.”
The girl spun around.
Her reaction bothered him immediately.
She didn't look surprised.
She looked ready to run.
Richard stopped several feet away.
“Are those babies yours?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“No.”
“Siblings?”
Silence.
The crying baby turned his face toward Richard.
His cheeks looked hollow.
Richard had nieces.
He knew babies were supposed to be heavier than that.
“Are they hungry?”
The girl's chin lifted.
“We're fine.”
Richard looked at the plastic bag.
Two bruised apples.
A loaf of day-old bread.
A small can of infant formula.
Nothing else.
“How old are you?”
She didn't answer.
“How old are they?”
“Eight months.”
“Twins?”
She nodded.
Richard noticed the second baby wasn't crying.
He seemed almost too quiet.
“What are their names?”
“Why?”
“Because babies usually have names.”
She shifted the child higher.
“Michael and Ryan.”
“And you?”
Another pause.
“Isabella.”
Richard held out his hand.
“Richard.”
She didn't take it.
“Are you police?”
“No.”
“Social worker?”
“No.”
“Then why do you care?”
Richard opened his mouth.
No answer came immediately.
That irritated him.
He always had answers.
Finally he said, “Because you look like you need help.”
Something changed in Isabella's face.
Not relief.
Anger.
“People always say that before they separate us.”
Richard stared.
“Separate you?”
“You can't take them.”
“I wasn't trying to.”
“You were looking at Ryan.”
“He looks sick.”
“He's tired.”
Ryan coughed.
A weak little sound.
Isabella instantly turned him toward her.
“It's okay.”
Richard felt something tighten in his chest.
“Where are your parents?”
“Our mother died.”
“And your father?”
“We don't have one.”
Richard softened his voice.
“Who takes care of you?”
“I do.”
A horn sounded behind them.
People passed.
Nobody stopped.
Richard looked toward the abandoned buildings around the Green View site.
Then back at her.
“Where do you live?”
Isabella's expression closed immediately.
“Nowhere.”
He knew she was lying.
Richard took his wallet out.
Isabella backed away.
“I don't want money.”
“I was going to buy food.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because then you'll follow us.”
That stopped him.
She was eleven and already understood transactions better than half his executives.
Richard put the wallet away.
“All right.”
He gestured toward a diner across the street.
“You choose the place. Public. You sit near the door. I buy breakfast. After that you leave if you want.”
Isabella hesitated.
Michael began crying harder.
She looked at him.
Then at the diner.
“Only food.”
“Only food.”
Inside, the waitress took one look at the twins and stopped asking questions.
Richard ordered eggs, oatmeal, fruit, milk, toast, and enough baby formula to make Isabella suspicious.
“You said breakfast.”
“Formula is breakfast.”
“For a month?”
“For a week.”
She stared at him.
Richard almost smiled.
She ate too fast.
Then slowed herself deliberately.
Saving.
He realized she was planning to wrap the extra toast.
He ordered more.
Isabella glared.
“You don't listen.”
“I've been accused of worse.”
Ryan coughed again.
The waitress looked concerned.
“You should get that baby checked.”
Isabella went rigid.
“No hospitals.”
Richard looked at her.
“Why?”
“They ask questions.”
“Questions might help.”
“They'll take them.”
Richard finally understood.
Isabella wasn't simply homeless.
She was hiding.
“Your mother asked you to keep them together?”
Her spoon stopped.
“How do you know?”
“You said people separate you.”
Isabella looked down.
“She promised me before she died.”
“What did she promise?”
“That if I kept them safe, we'd stay family.”
Richard leaned back.
That wasn't the question he'd asked.
It was probably the only answer she knew how to give.
After breakfast, he walked them outside.
He had already decided to call someone.
Not police.
Not yet.
A pediatrician he knew personally.
A woman who ran a mobile clinic.
He could bring medical help without forcing Isabella into an institution.
He was reaching for his phone when Isabella spoke.
“If I can't take care of both anymore…”
Richard looked up.
She stared at Michael and Ryan.
Her lower lip trembled.
For the first time, the hard little adult disappeared.
She was just eleven.
“Would you take one?”
Richard felt the entire street go silent.
“What?”
“One baby.”
Her eyes filled.
“Not both.”
“Why not both?”
“Because if you take both, I have nobody.”
Richard stared at her.
Isabella hugged Ryan tighter.
“And if I keep both, maybe I can't feed them.”
“Isabella—”
“Michael cries louder, so people help him first. Ryan sleeps more. But Ryan likes being held when it's dark.”
Richard couldn't speak.
She continued as though explaining a business arrangement.
“You have money.”
“How do you know?”
“Your car.”
That almost made him laugh.
Almost.
“And your shoes.”
“Good observation.”
“If you took one, he'd be safe.”
Her voice cracked.
“I could take care of the other one.”
Richard crouched in front of her.
“No.”
She flinched.
He softened immediately.
“No one is taking one twin away from the other today.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
Richard looked at both babies.
“But I know I'm not agreeing to it.”
Tears finally rolled down Isabella's face.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Richard had negotiated contracts worth hundreds of millions.
None had frightened him like that question.
“Let me help all three of you.”
She shook her head.
“You'll call somebody.”
“I might.”
She started backing away.
“But not without telling you what I'm doing.”
She stopped.
“I know a doctor. She can examine the babies where you are.”
“No hospital?”
“Not unless she says one of them needs it.”
Isabella looked toward Ryan.
His breathing had become shallow.
She swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Where are you staying?”
She pointed toward one of the abandoned concrete buildings.
Richard's stomach dropped.
That building.
He knew it.
Parcel C-17.
Scheduled for demolition in four days.
His company owned the redevelopment rights.
And according to the report presented to investors that morning, every abandoned structure in that zone had already been certified vacant.
Richard looked at Isabella.
“How long have you been there?”
“Four months.”
Four months.
Richard's legal department had submitted sworn occupancy reports saying nobody lived there.
He stared at the building.
Then his phone rang.
His chief operating officer, Daniel Crowe.
Richard answered.
“Where are you? Investors are waiting.”
Richard kept his eyes on Isabella.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Who certified Parcel C-17 as vacant?”
Silence.
Then Daniel laughed lightly.
“Why?”
Richard's voice went cold.
“Because I'm standing in front of it.”
Another pause.
“And?”
Richard looked at the eleven-year-old girl carrying two babies.
May you like
“And somebody lied to me.”
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