Page 27 of The Rough Ride (Sanctuary, Inc. #3)

L iz shared a dish of ice cream with Ella in her stroller under a shady, sugar maple tree with a bench. Her pretty munchkin shivered and made a different face with every little spoonful.

Liz couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this relaxed and happy.

It had been worth every moment spent in preparation to share this time with her daughter at the zoo.

They’d already visited the ape exhibit, watched the elephants get a bath, and walked through the birdhouses.

With each new animal, Ella pointed and cooed in delight.

Maybe they’d find the big cats and giraffes and call it a day.

Ella’s little cheeks were pink with fresh air and sunshine as she yawned, ending with an adoring four-tooth smile for her mom.

Liz scanned her map for the closest restroom with a changing table.

She followed the route with her finger and found one.

It would be a short walk from their shady resting spot.

She cleaned Ella’s face and hands with a cloth, tossed the empty cup in the garbage and meandered her way to the restroom with a smile plastered on her face.

“This is the good life, baby girl.” She pushed the handicap button and the door swung open to a large bathroom crammed with strollers and people.

Oh geez, she doubted one more piece of baby gear would fit in there.

She scooped up Ella, slid her into the baby carrier on her chest and grabbed the diaper bag.

She didn’t like leaving the stroller outside but there wasn’t room for one more.

“Mommy first, then you, sweetheart.”

She used the restroom, changed Ella on a just-vacated table, and followed a slow stream of women and children out the door.

Liz walked to where she thought she’d left the stroller, but it wasn’t there. Maybe she came out a different exit on the other side of the building? She hoisted the diaper bag and walked all the way around the building.

Huh—no stroller.

She did another circuit of the building. Maybe someone had grabbed hers by mistake and had run back to correct their error, and left it in a different spot.

But nope. There was no sign of it anywhere.

Damn. Why would someone take off with her stroller? She loved that stroller. They didn’t make that model anymore, and she adored the floral pattern and hidden pockets tucked here and there. Don’t even get her started on how expensive a good stroller was.

Oh my goodness. She patted her chest area where she’d stored a credit card and cash. It was still there. She hadn’t brought a purse, just the diaper bag, and upon inspection, her car keys were still in the zipper section .

“Well, baby girl—at least, we can get home,” she muttered aloud.

But the situation burned her up. Who would have the selfish nerve to steal a stroller? Especially when the rentals were only two bucks in honor of Labor Day weekend. That’s just nuts.

And then a wave of panic rippled through her.

She’d slipped her phone into the back-zipper section after she’d texted Arlene and sent a selfie of her and Ella holding a bird on her finger in the birdhouse.

The heat rose in her cheeks, and she clenched her fists.

Not only was the stroller AWOL, but her phone with it and all the special pictures and videos she’d taken the past few hours of their afternoon together.

Hopefully, the phone had updated and her precious memories were stored in the Cloud.

Liz whirled around in search of a policeman or rent-a-cop and spotted a security kiosk about a block away. She marched toward it at a brisk pace. With a little help, they’d find her stroller, and more importantly, her cell phone.

She waited behind a woman asking for directions to the birdhouse. Liz tapped her on the shoulder and pointed up the hill. “Straight up and on your right. It’s painted yellow and green.” The woman muttered her thanks and left.

The security guard glanced at Liz from behind the glass. “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

“Someone took my stroller when I used the restroom, but the worst of it is that my new cell phone was in the zipper pocket. I need help finding the stroller.”

He scratched his head. “Let me get this straight. You parked your stroller outside the restroom and left it there?”

“Yes. The bathroom already had a dozen of them inside. It seemed the logical thing to do at the time. ”

The guy chuckled. “Lady, you should never leave your stuff unattended in a public environment.”

A pissed-off heat rose in Liz’s cheeks. She forced a smile because honey attracts bees and all that crap. “Thank you for the advice, but what I need right now is help finding the stroller.”

The security guard shrugged and looked around. “I can’t leave the booth, lady. You’ll need to file a police report.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that. But in the meantime, could you call someone who’d help me look for my missing property?” She hoisted Ella onto her other hip.

“You got a picture of it?”

“Yes, sir, I do. It’s on the new cell phone in my stolen stroller,” she snapped.

“There’s no need to get testy. I can’t close down the park to look for your stroller, ma’am. We only close the exit gates for a missing child.”

Liz heaved a breath. “Tell me what you can do to help me out here.”

“I’ll have someone bring you a replacement stroller—free of charge. The security pavilion is just outside the entrance/exit area. It’s about a mile-and-a-half away. You can file your police report there.”

Liz thought a few seconds. Ella was getting heavy in her arms. “How long will it take to get that loaner up here?”

“Maybe twenty or thirty minutes tops. We’re a little shorthanded today. Or I could request a golf cart and get you a ride down to the security office. But that would take the same amount of time.” He peered over his glasses at her. “You want that golf cart?”

“No. Thanks, anyway. I think I’ll walk and look for it along the way. ”

Liz fumed as she plodded down the hill, eyeing each stroller searching for hers.

A group of loud teens startled the bejeesus out of her sleeping Ella, who began to cry.

Liz sank down for a moment on the edge of a flower planter and turned the baby around in the carrier so Ella could curl up on her chest. The walk took about forty-five minutes with a stop to buy a lemonade for the car ride home at the last concession stand.

She had juice in the diaper bag for Ella.

“Mommy’s going to need a time-out when we get home, sweetcakes.” Liz rubbed Ella’s little butt in her carrier when she stirred.

Liz chuckled a little, humored by the mental picture of herself sitting on a chair in the dining room alone enduring time-out.

Her real time-out would involve a full glass of crisp Chablis and sharp, white cheddar with crackers while she fed her daughter some supper.

But that respite was at least two hours away because she still needed to locate the Security building and file that police report.

She jerked through the exit turnstile and stopped, the family behind her almost knocking her over. Not fifty yards away was her stroller sitting by a bench occupied by an older gentleman.

Liz marched to the thing and walked around it. She tipped it over and inspected it. There was no damage. Surely, the phone was gone. Nope—the phone was in the same pocket she’d slipped it into at the bird house. She checked it out. All the pictures and videos were intact.

What the hell?

As she unloaded Ella into the stroller and hung the diaper bag over the handle, she questioned the older gentleman wearing a Vietnam vet hat, “Did you happen to see who left this stroller here, sir?”

He looked up from his book.

“Waiting for my grandchildren. Some lady in a black hoodie left it there about half hour ago. Kept thinking it was pretty strange she was wearing a hoodie in ninety-some degrees, and even stranger she pushed a stroller without a little one in it. Yours, huh?”

“Yes indeedy, it is. It disappeared when I was in a restroom a ways back.”

“I’m glad you found it. That’s a pretty baby girl you’ve got there.”

“Thank you. She’s a sweetheart.” Liz pointed at his hat. “And thank you for your service.”

“You’re welcome, honey. I’m one of the lucky ones. Came home from the jungle at twenty-one and lived a full life.”

“Good for you.”

He smiled and tipped his hat.

Liz had every intention of living a long and full life, too. But first—she’d like to unleash some whoop-ass on whoever borrowed her stroller.