The Cradle Conspiracy. Christy Barritt
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minutes ago when Sienna had put him down.
She cracked his door open and saw the boy still in the crib, his chest rising and falling peacefully. Pausing for a second, Sienna could hear the sweet, reassuring sound of him breathing.
Sienna released the air from her lungs. The boy was asleep still. And he was okay.
So what had that noise been? Just a scratch in the night? Maybe a critter beneath her house? That had happened a couple years ago, and an exterminator had discovered a stray cat in her crawl space.
Sienna wasn’t normally given to paranoia, but the hair on her arms seemed to rise with each second that ticked past. Her gut told her that was no cat. No, the noise sounded too close. Too loud. Too consistent.
Swallowing her anxiety, Sienna grabbed the only potential weapon she could find—a rolling pin. It was also known as Colby’s new favorite toy. She’d left it on the hallway table, telling herself she’d put it away in the morning when she wasn’t so exhausted. Being the only caregiver of an active two-year-old was more exhausting than she would have guessed.
Carefully, Sienna crept down the hallway. Her senses were on hyperdrive as she listened again for some signal to confirm her gut instinct that something was wrong.
All she heard was silence.
She tiptoed into her living room and froze.
The window above an armchair was open, and a cool summer breeze slithered inside. Sienna wouldn’t have left it open. She never slept with the windows cracked—not as a single lady.
She stepped into the shadow of her hallway where the effervescent moonlight couldn’t reach her and scanned her surroundings.
Something or someone had opened that window.
She needed to figure out what or who, and she needed to figure it out quickly.
Something moved near the wall across the room.
A figure.
In her house.
Creeping toward her.
Sienna swallowed a scream. She didn’t want to awaken Colby and upset him—even if every instinct in her wanted to panic. No, she had to keep a cool head for Colby’s sake.
Her limbs trembled as she slunk back down the hallway toward Colby’s room.
Just as she reached his door, she looked back. The dark figure appeared at the end of the hallway. He wore a black ski mask. But Sienna could still see the reflection of his eyes as his gaze hit her.
Something about the gleam confirmed that this man was no good. He was dangerous. And he was coming for her.
Please, God. Help us!
She sucked in a breath and darted into Colby’s room. Her hands shook as she grabbed the lock. She had to twist the mechanism in place before the man got here. Before he got them. Yet nothing cooperated.
No, no, no!
Finally, Sienna’s fingers got the grip they needed, and the lock turned in place.
Thank You, Lord.
But Sienna knew the flimsy metal barrier wouldn’t last long. She’d picked locks like these as a child, using only a bobby pin, while pretending she was a spy. The memory didn’t comfort her now.
Turning, she glanced around, searching for something—anything—that would protect them. There was nothing but a lamp, a dresser, a twin-size bed and a portable crib.
Her heart raced. Why hadn’t she grabbed her phone?
Sienna hadn’t thought she would need it. Worst-case scenario, she’d thought she’d have to rock Colby back to sleep. Never had she imagined this.
The dresser, she realized. She needed to move it in front of the door. It was wooden, solid and heavy and could serve as a blockade.
Without thinking about it more, Sienna shoved her hip against it. Slowly, the furniture scooted across the wooden floor.
As she inched it forward, the doorknob rattled. Not just rattled. Rattled furiously. Unrelentingly.
She sucked in a quick breath of air.
The man on the other side wanted in. Why couldn’t he just take whatever he wanted and leave? Not that Sienna had much in terms of material possessions. In fact, she hardly had anything. No money. No jewelry. Nothing of true value.
That was when the truth hit Sienna.
He must want her. Or Colby.
Her lungs tightened.
No, no, no... Neither of those options was acceptable. Especially not Colby.
The sound of the man ramming against the door filled the earlier quiet.
Scarier still, the man himself remained silent—chillingly silent. He hadn’t said a word, yet his actions said plenty. It was the kind of quiet that made Sienna’s mind fill in the gaps with terrible yet unverified truths.
Sienna found a burst of strength and shoved the dresser the rest of the way in front of the door—and just in time.
The door frame began to split.
She swung her head toward the crib. The noises were waking Colby.
It was just as well. The two of them needed to get out of here.
Now.
The window, Sienna realized. It was the only way out. Her only solution and means of escape. But she had to move quickly.
At least her house was only one story. If she climbed outside with Colby, the landing shouldn’t be too bad. She could protect the baby when they hit the grass below.
The door frame cracked again, sending another pulse of fear through her.
She scooped Colby up in her arms and rushed toward the window, where a dark summer sky stared back.
She kissed the top of Colby’s soft head, praying he wouldn’t feel her terror and feed off it.
The door frame cracked again, and the dresser moved a couple of inches. The intruder was almost inside.
Sienna bit back a scream, unlatched the window and thrust it up just as the man shoved the dresser out of the way. He burst into the room, his gun pointed right at Sienna.
Her life and all her unfulfilled dreams flashed before her eyes. But even more, she pictured Colby’s future. He deserved a future, and no one was going to take that away.
* * *
Devin Matthews blinked, wondering if he’d started to fall asleep on his back deck. The full moon shone around him, illuminating the suburban neighborhood more than usual. But the shadows within the moonlight made him tense.
There was no wind out here tonight. Not even a breeze. So what was that movement in his neighbor’s backyard?
It could be a raccoon or a fox, he supposed. Or maybe his neighbor had taken some trash out. He’d never seen the woman as a night owl, and it was already almost midnight.
His restlessness was a complication of not being able to sleep. It didn’t matter how cold or hot it was outside, Devin often found himself on his back deck, staring at the stars, and thinking about life until the wee hours of the morning.
These times were his solitude—and possibly his undoing. Devin had to get back into a schedule. He had to return to the land of the living. But doing so was much harder than he’d ever anticipated. Grief always remained at a close enough distance that his life felt stuck at a standstill.
He’d taken a two-month leave of absence from the FBI in order to get himself straight. The way it was looking, it might take more than two months. In fact, maybe he should look for another job, one that didn’t remind him so much of the tragedies of his past.
He