Baby Be Mine by Diane Fanning Page A

walls. When it was new the courthouse must have been the ultimate in elegant formality. Now it was dated and tired. It was a clean and presentable building, but no amount of scrubbing could wash away the vague musty smell, and decades of use robbed even the purest surfaces of their sparkle.
    Kevin, Lisa and baby ascended the long flight of marble steps to the second floor. Their first stop was the county appraiser’s office, where Lisa’s weekend coworker at Casey’s General Store worked on weekdays. Lisa’s friend was not there—all the staff of that office was out for a celebratory Christmas meal together. The only person behind the counter was an employee of the County Clerk’s office minding the desk in their absence.
    Kevin, Lisa and baby Abigail went down one door to the county clerk’s office. The couple beamed as that staff oohed and aahed over the infant. Lisa shared her tale of the baby’s birth—the surprise when her water burst and the experience of driving with labor pains to the birthing center.
    Their next stop was the home of Lisa’s ex-husband, Carl Boman, and his new wife, Vanessa. The couple rented a house in Lyndon from Lisa’s mother, Judy.
    With defiance on her face, Lisa showed the baby to herformer spouse—the father of her four children. Carl did not know what to say.
    Vanessa pulled Kevin aside and asked, “Is this really your baby?”
    â€œYes,” Kevin said, his forehead creasing in befuddlement at her question.
    â€œAre you sure Lisa didn’t buy it somewhere or steal it from someone?”
    Kevin looked at Vanessa as if she’d lost her mind. He told Lisa it was time to leave. Lisa and Kevin then headed up State Route 31 back to their home in Melvern.
    Although Lisa’s mother, Judy, lived on a farm in the outskirts of Lyndon, they did not take the baby for a visit. Unaware of the addition to her daughter’s household the day before and unaware of the Amber Alert that filled the airwaves, Judy was surprised by the phone call from one of her friends who worked at the courthouse. The woman congratulated her on being a grandmother again.
    Knowing her daughter’s history, Judy said, “Yeah, right. She either stole it or bought it.”

9
    T he man who emerged from the dirty red import had short dark brown hair, lighter blond eyebrows and moustache and a darker goatee streaked with grey. The woman had shoulder-length dirty blond hair, heavy eyebrows, prominent cheekbones and a receding chin. She wore oversized glasses and was skinnier than any new mother should be. She looked pretty, but haggard.
    The man, in an act of touching chivalry, went around to the passenger’s side of the car and opened the door. He helped the woman out of the vehicle and on to her feet. She walked with him into her home. In her arms she held a bundle close to her chest.
    The man and woman seemed unaware of the net law enforcement cast around their home. As soon as they went inside, the net tightened—and the tension rose. The car looked right. The woman was blonde. And there was a newborn baby. But was it the right baby?
    Randy Strong opened his car door and said, “We’re going in” to Sheriff Espey. Then, he turned off his cell phone.
    In Maryville, Espey struggled to breathe evenly. His mind raced through a catalogue of bad outcomes—a shootout, a hostage-taking, a baby who did not survive the event. He dwelled on the possibility that this lead, too, would be a total dead end—just an innocent couple caring for their own child. He stared at the phone, willing it to ring.
    In Melvern, Strong—as instructed by Espey—was the first one at the door. Kevin Montgomery answered the knock and invited them all in. What was going through Kevin’s mind as a herd of law enforcement stampeded into his home? Did he, at first, think it must have something to do with his wife’s half-brothers, Tommy or Teddy,