I grit my teeth. “It’s safer for you if Pestilence stays. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
As if sensing the tension, Pestilence comes to nudge Mercedes to pet him. “He can stay. I’d love for him to stay. But not because I’m scared.”
I nod. “That’s all I want. I have his things outside. Food, a bed, everything he needs. Paolo will replenish his supplies. You just call me if you need anything. Anything at all. I can come to walk him—”
“I’m sure I can handle walking him.”
“Of course. Let me go get his things.” I walk out of the house, noticing the shopping bag of diapers by the stairs. One of the guards helps me unload Pestilence’s supplies.
“Where would you like him to sleep?” I ask Mercedes when we’re alone again.
“With me.”
I nod, and without waiting for an invitation, I carry his bed and the bag of infant’s diapers that are already sitting by the steps up the staircase. She follows and directs me where to put his bed. I then stand facing her, the bag of diapers in my hand, completely at a loss for what to do but unwilling to leave.
“Those go in the nursery.”
I follow her down the hall to the room freshly painted in shades of the softest green and yellow, stickers of colorful animals on all the walls, two cribs set at opposite ends, a changing table, and boxes and boxes of unpacked things for the babies.
She watches me as I take it in.
“You can put the bag down, Judge.”
I turn to her and nod. “Where do you want the diapers?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Please. Let me.”
She points at the cupboard under the changing table, and I get on my knees to unpack the impossibly small diapers. I stack them along with the baby wipes, then stand back up.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
“We’re fine. We have everything we could need,” she says, hand on her belly. I want to ask if they’re moving. If I can touch them. But I know I can’t.
“Oh.” I reach into my pocket and take out the envelope there. I hold it out to her.
She takes it and looks inside.
“The sonogram images. I kept one. I hope you don’t mind.” She eyes me, and for a moment, I wonder if she’ll want me to give it to her. But then the puppy barks downstairs, and we both turn to the door. Mercedes is the first to leave the room. I take one more look around, feeling lonelier than I have ever felt, and follow her back downstairs and out to the patio. She opens the little gate and lets Pestilence and the puppy down on the grassy area where the puppy relieves herself.
“Your brother increased the guards.” He doesn’t know I have eyes on Douglas. I should communicate it with him.
“It’s fine, Judge. Santi is handling it.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s handled.” She turns to walk away, but I grab her arm to stop her. She looks down at where I’m holding her, but I don’t let go.
“What happened? Because something did.”
“Nothing.”
“Something. What was it?”
“I received a package the other day. Delivered to my front door.”
My blood turns to ice. “What package?”
Her expression falters, and I glimpse the thing she’s trying to hide. Fear. “Mercedes? What package?”
She doesn’t quite look at me when she answers. “A chopped-up baby doll and a blank invitation to a funeral.”
“What? Why didn’t I know about this?”