Day 4
More NaNoWriMo. Current word count: 7,484. Nuff said.



“Da!” shouted Chris from his crib.

“No…ma,” corrected Shelley. “Ma-ma.”

Chris scrunched up his chubby baby face and stared at his mother obstinately “Da,” he reiterated.

“Well, good thing the court didn’t ask you to choose parents,” said Shelley.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” said Officer Armstrong from across the room. “Most kids learn how to say ‘Dadda’ before anything else. The ‘D’ sound is easier to pronounce or something.”

Shelley straightened up and gave the officer a wink. “I’m not worried about it. I’m just trying to set him straight.”

“You’re not one of those man haters, are you?”

“Only one specific man.”

“Your husband?”

“I never married him. I dodged that bullet, at least.”

Shelley pulled up a wooden chair and sat down facing her son’s crib. They had spent all day moving in speed and secrecy, relocated to a hotel suite until the police could be sure there wouldn’t be any more attempts on her life. The room was nice, at least, with a spacious common area, a separate bedroom, a fake fireplace, and a kitchenette. In another month or two, there would be skiing on a nearby mountain. It would have been a very romantic getaway, had it not been for the matter of attempted murder less than twenty-four hours ago.

Robert Armstrong sat in front of the round wooden coffee table nearest to the door, casually flipping over cards in an everlasting game of solitaire. He could have been Shelley’s son, if she had had children in her teens instead of at the unnatural age of forty. His nose twitched whenever he flipped over a bad card, moving the bristles of a coffee-colored mustache when he did so. Every time that mustache moved, Shelley wanted to order him to shave it off. It was a disgrace in what could have otherwise been a good-looking face.

Seeing that his mother’s attention had moved somewhere else, Chris announced his presence again by banging his palm against the plastic bars of the crib. “Da!” he said again.

“Gentle, kiddo,” Shelley said, touching Chris’s hand and trying to show him that not everything needed to be struck with as much force as possible. “This is gentle.”

Chris shifted from his sitting position to lying on his belly. Then he burped.

“Lovely,” said Shelley. “At least nothing came out of you that time.”

“It’s close to ten o’clock,” said Robert. “Shouldn’t it be his bedtime or something?”

“He’s usually out by now. I think he’s just not used to sleeping in a strange place.”

“Well, God willing, you’ll be back in your own home in just a couple of days.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Shelley stood up and walked to the couch in front of the room’s flat-screen television, hoping that her absence would encourage Chris to close his eyes.

“What – you don’t like that place of yours? It’s practically a castle.”

“It was okay to grow up in – lots of nooks and crannies for a kid to hide in. Plus, my dad always had visitors over. But for just myself and Chris, it’s too big. I was planning on selling it sometime soon, but I’m betting that three murders there will probably drive the property value down quite a bit.”

Robert shook his head and scooped up the cards, having lost another game. “My fiancée and I will pay you a hundred grand for it,” he joked.

“Even with the killings, I’m betting I could get close to five times that. After all, it’s got historical value. A notorious criminal used to live there.”

“Your dad? Mike Cassotto?”

“I’ll go out on a limb and guess that you and your fellow officers know all about him.”

“Not as much as you’d think. Stories, mostly. I mean, I know he sold guns and stuff to some shady people. It’s not like he was Al Capone or anything.”

“No, he only supplied illegal weaponry that wound up killing dozens of people.”

“I’m not saying he was a saint or anything,” said Robert, twitching his nose again. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t hold what he did against you.”

A whimper came from the crib. Then Chris broke into a short, half-hearted wail. Robert stood up to look at the child, but Shelley made a shushing noise and held up her hand, stopping him.

“Wait a second,” she said. The crying grew louder for an instant, but then faded away to be replaced by a murmur and then silence. Shelley waited until Robert had sat down before speaking again.

“I’m trying to teach him that Mommy isn’t going to jump up at his every beck and call. After the first few months, he started crying out of boredom more than anything else.”

“What if there’s something wrong, though?”

Shelley craned her neck behind her, taking a look at Chris. He was lying down now, his eyes half-closed and his hands flexing and releasing in a random pattern. “He’s just tired. Like you said, it’s late for him to be up. If he really needed something, he would have kept crying.” Shelley stared at the blank television screen and then reached for the remote on the arm of the couch. “Mind if I watch some TV? I’ll be keeping the volume low.”

“It’s your place. I’m just playing babysitter.”

Shelley nodded her thanks and turned the set on. She immediately lowered the volume to just about mute and started flipping through the channels. The nervous energy inside of her had started to build up – she needed something to keep her mind away from cigarettes.

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?”

“Whenever you head to bed. I figured I’d take the couch. Make sure no one comes in through the door.”

“You’re not the only one here, though, right?”

“No. There’s someone outside watching the place, too. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“If there’s nothing to worry about, you take the bed. I’d rather stay close to Chris, and I don’t want to move him.”

“The couch folds out and everything. I can—”

“I’ll manage, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Robert tapped the cards against the table, squaring them up before returning them to their pack. “I’m just going to use the bathroom. You know the drill – don’t answer the door for anyone.”

Shelley didn't have to answer the door. A few seconds after the bathroom door closed, she heard a drumming of fingers against the plastic rail of Chris's crib. A prickling sensation ran up her neck. She jumped up so quickly that she nearly lost her balance and fell over. When she saw who had snuck up on her, she relaxed, but only a little.

"How did you get in here?" she whispered.

The guardian from the night before kept looking at Chris. He rested his hand against the rail and observed as the baby slept. Shelley noticed that he didn't have gloves on.

"Please get away from him," she said, still keeping her voice low enough that Robert wouldn't hear it over the television.

The man nodded and stepped away, moving toward the couch. He stayed out of arm's reach of Shelley but watched her with an unnerving precision. A crow, Shelley thought. He's like a human-shaped crow.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Shelley said. "I just-"

"You don't have to explain," he interrupted, speaking in that same almost-whisper from before. "I understand why you wouldn't want me too close to your son. You don't even know me." He glanced over his shoulder ruefully at Chris. "Even if you did, it wouldn't change things."

"How did you get in here? There are cops watching the building. There's a cop in the lobby, Hell, there's a cop in my bathroom."

"I'm careful."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of your mother's."

Shelley swallowed. Her rational mind rejected the silly notion that popped into her head, but it would certainly explain the way this man had apparently materialized out of nowhere and how he had so swiftly dealt with her would-be killers.

"My mother died twenty years ago."

"I know."

"What are you?"

"I'm someone who's here to help, if you want me to." He reached into his pocket Shelley tensed, but sighed in relief when the man simply pulled out a cell phone and offered it to her. "The police want to write off the break-in last night as a burglary gone wrong, but they can't. Your family has too much history - too much blood in its past. You know that, and you know it won't be the end. But you have my word that both you and your son will be safe."

"Who gave you that kind of responsibility? I've got the police watching me. I have the money to hire out bodyguards if I need to. Why should I rely on you to be some eerie superhero?" Nonetheless, Shelley found herself taking the phone.

"Press the first speed dial if you need to reach me. If you're as safe as you say, you'll never have to use that."

The sound of running water came from the other room as Robert started washing his hands. The crow turned and walked toward the bedroom - likely ready to creep out a window and disappear into the night again.

"Wait," Shelley whispered.

He stopped. Shelley raised the phone.

"Like I said, the police are all around here. There was one guy specifically asking about you. I could give him this phone if I wanted to, and he could use it to track you down."

"That's right. You could."

Shelley turned to face the television again, giving her mysterious visitor time to complete his disappearing act. She opened the phone and looked at the speed dial list. Only one name was listed - "Mack."

The door opened seconds later and Robert stepped back into the room.

"Well, look at that."

"What?" Shelley's eyes darted toward where Mack had gone moments earlier, wondering if she had stalled him too long. But Robert was watching the crib instead.

"You were right. He's fast asleep now."

Shelley gave half a smile and took her seat on the couch again. "Mother's instinct and all."

"Did I hear you talking to someone in here?"

Without looking at Robert, Shelley tucked the phone into her pants pocket. "Nah...just the TV."