Stealing Time by Leslie Glass Page A

before Marc could say anything more. The two detectives turned their recording equipment off and looked at him. He gave them a grim little nod and reported the caller's name. They turned the machine back on and asked him to repeat it. While they were listening to the conversation, the doorbell rang. The detective working the phone paid no attention. Anton crossed the living room to see who it was. Through the peephole in the door he saw the Chinese detective and her sidekick.
"Jesus," he muttered. He was sweating and badly needed a drink. He felt like a squirrel caught in the middle of the road with cars coming in both directions. The doorbell rang again. He opened it, his heart beating at his chest like a hammer.
"Mr. Popescu?" The male cop spoke.
"Did you find him?" For the first time Anton's voice came out no louder than a faint whisper.
The two detectives traded looks. This time the woman answered. "No, sir. Not yet."
Anton clutched his chest. "Is my wife—?" "No change. Do you mind if we come in for a few minutes?"
Anton took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's eleven o'clock; isn't it a little late for a visit?"
The Chinese gave him a strange look, as if that might be an inappropriate response. He didn't like her, and realized he had to watch himself.
"I'm Sergeant Woo. This is Detective Baum."
"I spent the afternoon with you. I remember who you are." He took a step back onto the white rug, which had a gaping hole cut out of it where one of Heather's bloodstains had been. The other stains were still there and already turning brown. Anton didn't look down. To see it would make him lose control.
The two detectives came right in. Anton hadn't had anything to eat or drink since lunch. He swallowed, surprised that he was hungry at a time like this. He really needed a drink. He didn't dare take one.
"I've already talked to about a hundred people. What do you want?" He looked wearily from one to the other.
The two cops looked at each other, then through the arch into the living room where the other detectives were still playing with the phones.
"There's a detail we need to take care of right away," the Chinese sergeant said.
Anton's expression became wary. "What's that?"
"It's about your baby."
Anton's jaw tightened. He didn't say anything. He stood in the small vestibule and waited for the bomb to drop.
"We need a birth certificate."
"What?" He genuinely looked surprised. "Why?"
"For identification."
"I thought you said you haven't found him."
"We'll need it when we do find him, and we believe it might help us locate him."
Anton stopped breathing. "What do you mean?"
"Mr. Popescu. The doctor told us that your wife has not given birth to a baby, so we know she's not the birth mother. We need to establish—"
"Oh, my God," Anton blurted out in an anguished voice. "Oh, God. I told you I didn't want them all over her. Oh, this is outrageous."
Sergeant Woo did not seem moved. "We have to have the facts of the situation."
Anton looked at the men in the living room and lowered his voice. "I don't want this to get around."
Detective Baum shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but Anton didn't continue.
"If the baby's adopted, we'll need to see the papers," the sergeant said.
"Oh, God." Anton rolled his eyes.
"We have to see the adoption papers," she repeated.
"I don't see what this has to do with it. It's our child, period."
"Well, that can easily be established." She kept at it.
"You're out of your territory here. It has nothing to do with getting my son back."
The two detectives exchanged glances again. "That's what we need to establish. Maybe the birth parents have abducted their own baby." The woman again.
Anton clutched his chest. "Oh, Jesus, that can't be."
"Why not?" she asked.
"I'm the baby's father."
"Who's the mother?" Deadpan Chinese face.
"She lives in another state." Anton gulped for air.
"We'll need to talk to her."
"I don't know where she is now."
"We know how to find people. Where did she give birth?"
"She