Chapter 7 - The Empty Nursery
Leo reached the suburban periphery of Oakridge by five in the morning. Soaked in muddy river water, wearing stolen mechanic overalls from an unlocked shed, he slipped through the alley behind Aunt Clara's townhouse. The silence was wrong. The front porch light had been shattered. Leo eased open the back kitchen window, sliding onto the linoleum floor. The apartment had been torn apart with methodical precision. Sofa cushions were sliced, drawers overturned, toys scattered across the hallway. In Toby’s room, the crib stood empty. His little green stuffed bear lay trampled near the radiator, spotted with dark droplets of dried blood. Clara’s purse remained on the kitchen counter, spilled open, cash untouched. Mercer hadn't come for money. He had taken them both. On the kitchen chalkboard, scrawled in red grease pencil, was a single address: Pier 14, Berth B. Beneath it lay a discarded toddler sneaker—the matching mate to the one Toby wore at the jail cell bars.
