Page 25 of Sam to the Rescue

Chapter 16

Sam

Sitting in my old living space, I jiggle my baby on my lap, and sigh. My God, Sebastian may be undercover but does he have to be so condescending?”

“Was that him on the phone, luv?” Lucky, sitting cross-legged on the floor, glances up from where he plays with the kids.

“He wanted me to know he was going to stay out late.” Tears ruin my brilliant attempt at nonchalance.

I quickly wipe them away but Lucky sees and jumps up. “Whatever he said, don’t let it bother you.”

The big man stands and puts my son in my arms. “Why don’t me and Polly walk you back home. After I drop her off, I’ll be right back. You’ll stay put. Right-o?”

“I will sit and work on my computer, Girl Scout’s honor.” My first two fingers raise as I’ve seen done in movies but in truth, I never made it past Brownie.

“Fair dinkum.”Standing, Sebastian’s best friend lifts his little girl and tosses her in the air.

Twisting my monitor out if his view, I research dinkum.Phew. Well, that’s a relief.It means genuine. Mystery solved, I pack Mikey’s go-bag and on the way back to my apartment, we stop at Petey’s.

“Sammeeee? How’s biz?” The heavy-set Italian spins a circle of dough, entrancing Lucky’s wide-eyed daughter.

“We’ll take a cheese pie to go. Two boxes.” Placing my credit card on the counter, I ignore the restauranteur’s blatant, lecherous head to toe examination of my body.

“If you ever need a little cash, I could use another set of hands.” He winks, slides a wood paddle into the oven, and retrieves a steaming pie,

The delicious fumes cause my stomach to grumble, reminding me to play nice or say goodbye to the best slices in the city. “Thanks. I’ll think abouddit.”

Petey grins and points a fat thumb behind the freezer. “Vinny’s out back. You want for me to tell him you’re here. He can hook you up with a divorce lawyer. You’re not as young as you used to be, but I could show youz a good time.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.With innocent ears close by, I rephrase what’s on the tip of my tongue. “You can take your doughy breadstick, stuff it in the coals, and let it burn because I am, and always have been, way out of your league. Nice talkin’ wid youz.”

“Ouch.” Chuckling, Lucky grabs the boxes off the counter and takes his daughter’s hand as I wheel Mikey out the door.

Outside on the sidewalk, the Aussie shakes his head. “Why put up with his nonsense?”

“Do not judge me until you take a bite. Then, let me know.” Not long after, I lift my tired son out of his stroller and, after promising to stay out of trouble, I trudge up three outside stairs.

Before Joey can yell out, I point to my sleeping shoulder angel, put an index finger to my lips, and wave.

At the next level, Rose and Mia watch videos in their respective bedrooms. Grateful for the quiet, I pull on the rope, lower my stairs, and put Mikey in his crib.

Away from prying eyes, I open my favorite AI. “Jason, I’m searching for a woman who’s been stalking Sebastian. I believe she may be driving or own a late-model, green jeep.”

Today, the meme is dressed in spotted PJ’s, his hair spikey and disorganized as if woken from sleep. “Hello, Samantha. My servers are under maintenance. Give me a moment.”

Moaning, I bite into a slice of chewy, cheesy goodness. Oil rolls down my chin and as I jump up for a paper towel, a video starts to play on my laptop.

The subway platform, across the street from our office, has several cameras. One captures a person fully hidden under a turquoise burqa. At first glance, it appears she has a baby but her hands don’t cradle the infant’s head nor mind when the blanketed bundle bumps into a post. She’s either the world’s worst mother or there’s no child in her arms.

Huh. She seems awfully familiar.

“Holy shit.” I remember to hiss so as not to wake Mikey. “Jason, search all footage fromSuds and Sam’sfront door. How many times does she show up?

“There are twenty-five instances.” Blue eyes behind thick spectacles blink back at me.

“Play the first. Start at the beginning.” Watching closely, my greasy finger leaves a print when I point in excitement. “Stop! Can you read the jeep’s plate?”

Minutes later, with Shabana Hosseini’s driver’s license on my phone, I dash down the stairs and knock on Rose’s door. “Can you watch Mikey? He’s asleep in his crib. There’s a bottle in the fridge.”