She gently set the carrier down. “I can’t leave her with just anyone,” she whispered.

“You aren’t.” I frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

She met my gaze with an expression that felt oddly familiar. “I chose you.”

Before I could manage another question, she brushed one finger across the baby’s cheek. “Ava.” Then she turned her eyes back to me. “My name is Sabrina.”

The name meant nothing to me. I remember thinking that — standing in my own doorway in the rain, turning it over, waiting for it to catch on something.

It didn’t. And I remember thinking it was strange that a woman who intended to disappear would give me a name at all.

“Sabrina, whatever is happening, we’ll figure it out.”

A faint smile touched her face. “I know you will.” She turned away and ran.

“Sabrina!” I hurried after her into the rain, but she vanished around the corner before I reached the sidewalk. The rain was the only sound that remained.

Then a soft little whimper came from behind me. I turned toward the baby. She blinked up at me with huge brown eyes. “It’s all right,” I whispered, though I wasn’t certain which of us needed the reassurance.

Chapter 2 — What She Left Behind

Inside, I set the carrier on the rug in my living room. The diaper bag had been packed with remarkable precision. Every bottle already measured. Every diaper neatly folded.

Formula. Extra clothing. A stuffed rabbit with one floppy ear. No letter. No phone. No wallet. Only the yellow blanket wrapped carefully around Ava.