Page 37 of Nanny for the Firefighters

This isn't how I'd feel for a nanny, not under the usual circumstances.

Goddammit.

I'm connecting too many dots, I assure myself as I move to the side to answer.

17

ELLA

With the boys at work and a morning full of playing inside the house, I take Lily to a nearby park. She's set up in the oversized sandbox, sharing her set of shovels with the little boy beside her.

I smile at the young mother, and we sit on nearby benches to watch them play. The day is beautifully sunny—bright blue skies and small, puffy clouds like the scenes in a children's storybook. Lily's tiny little pigtails are held up with oversized pink bows. Her garbled conversation with her playmate is sweet and constant as they dig holes beside each other.

Her giggle is the sweetest thing in my ears. I can't understand how flippant Vanessa is about her own daughter—neglectful and selfish. I would think that her ego would be at least mildly stroked by the way Lily looks like her. Most moms enjoy dressing up their little girls like mini versions of themselves before the novelty wears off.

Lily doesn't even cry through the night. She only wants a little attention and cuddles before she settles down to sleep. Playing with her is easy, too. If I haven't seen it again and again with the parents I nannied for, I wouldn't think it possible to be so disassociated from one's own child.

Did anyone ever check Vanessa for postpartum depression? It could have pinged off her usually self-absorbed nature to keep her from becoming attached to her daughter since it hinders the bonding experience. I get how much harder it can be when postpartum plays a role. The signs are there in Lily, although her communication is on par. Her attachment to Marcus, the fitful interactions with the slew of nannies he hired before me, how fussy she can get, it all connects.

Maybe I'm giving Vanessa too much of the benefit of the doubt, especially after her behavior this morning. How much I gathered from her rantings and the guys' comments about her indiscretions and infidelity says I may be way off. She's not a good person in general.

Lily is lucky to have Marcus, even if he seems to beat himself up over how much time he has to spend at his job. At least he's tried to find her a loving nanny—and succeeded with me, thank you very much—and he doesn't leave her any more than he needs to. Plus, he's in charge of the fire house and ensuring that all of his men are safe. So, it's not like he's working long hours to make more money. He's got a purpose, and that's hard to give up, hard to balance with being a single father.

I lean my head back and bask in the sunshine for a few minutes before I focus on Lily again. She might not be running yet, but I'm always nervous about taking my eyes off her for longer than a few minutes.

It's hard with the way a cool breeze caresses my cheeks, balancing the heat of the sun on my skin. The combination creates the perfect atmosphere for an early afternoon nap.

Lily's burbles accompany her slowed-down movements. I lift her out of the sandbox, dusting off her bottom before placing her in her stroller. I leave the shovel with the other child and pack up her other toys. Given that Marcus has the manor and the ability to pay me three times my usual salary, I don't think we will miss the shovel.

Smiling at the other mother, I decide to take Lily around the park to help her fall asleep. But after a few steps, my phone blares.

My screen flashes with an AMBER Alert.

Missing abducted child, Sarah Baker, F-5, last seen at Montgomery Grocery at 11.25a.m.

I swipe the message open as I hear the alert blaring like a wave through the park. Panic and tension swell across the parents, and my chest tightens at the thought of the missing little girl.

Montgomery Grocery is only a few minutes' walk from here, and I scan the park for anything suspicious. Peeking at the minimal details on the alert, it says she was last seen with an older gentleman in a fishing hat and vest.

I scan the park again, looking for any sign of them. I'm always so diligent, so paranoid when I'm caring for kids.

There's an older guy hovering at the edge of the park, far enough from the other parents and the way they are clutching their children. He doesn't check his phone, and he doesn't have a fishing vest on, but he is wearing a ballcap low over his eyes.

Something about this guy sets off my every warning bell.

I push Lily around the outside of the park with slow, even steps and dial Marcus.

"Ella. What's wrong? Is Lily okay?" The sharp worry in his voice makes me appreciate him just a little more.

"Lily's fine. We're at the park. Listen." I lower my voice a little, even though I'm more than far enough away from the man I'm suspicious of. "I got the AMBER alert about the missing five-year-old, and there's a guy that is pinging my every instinct here at the park. Can you send someone this way to check him out?"

"What park?" His tone grows serious and business-like. Deep and gruff.

"The small children's park right down the street from Montgomery's Grocery." I pause my stride to brush some stray curls from my face and use the excuse to clock the guy again. "I don't see the child, and his clothes don't match the description, but I'm telling you, something is up with this guy."

"Give me his description."

I shake my head, clearing it before I gather my wits. "Six feet tall, white male. In his late fifties, early sixties. Dark baseball cap pulled low over his face. Scruffy face, but no beard or mustache. He's wearing dark jeans and a white T-shirt with a dark blue overshirt, unbuttoned down the chest. Dark sneakers, no laces."