Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy! novel Chapter 93

Chapter 90-2

I scan the crowd for Jake. His dark hair. His dinosaur backpack. His tendency to skip instead of walk when he’s in a good mood.

But I don’t see him.

That’s okay. Sometimes he stays late to talk to Mrs. Hamilton about art projects. Or to help clean up supplies. He’s a good kid like that.

So I wait.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then twenty.

The crowd thins. Parents drive away with their kids. The playground empties. The parking lot clears.

Still no Jake.

A prickle of unease runs down my spine.

By three-thirty, the school is almost completely empty. Just a few stragglers. A couple of teachers locking up classrooms.

Still no Jake.

Now the unease is turning into full blown panic.

I get out of my car and cross the street, heading straight for Jake’s classroom.

Mrs. Hamilton is erasing the whiteboard when I knock on the open door.

“Sophia!” She turns, surprised. “I thought you already picked up Jake.”

My heart stops. “Excuse me?”

“Jake. He was picked up right at dismissal. I assumed it was you since—”

“I’ve been sitting in my car for the past half hour. Who picked him up?”

୮

Mrs. Hamilton’s expression shifts from confusion to concern. “A woman came. She said she was Jake’s stepmother. I didn’t recognize her, but she knew all the right information-Jake’s full name, his birthday, details about his art projects. And she had authorization on file.”

“What did she look like?”

“Tall. Red hair. Very put together. Professional.” Mrs. Hamilton pulls out her phone. “I was actually a bit surprised because Sabrina never mentioned Jake having a stepmother. But the woman insisted she’d just married Jake’s father and they were working on co-parenting arrangements.”

Tall. Red hair.

Fuck!

that description fit Jessica fucking Morgan?

in is not Jake’s stepmother. She’s Dustin’s mistress: And God forbid. If she just kidnapped Jak

my veins.

dy pulling out my phone, dialing Sabrina. “That wornan is nothing to Jake. Did you see which on they went? What kind of car?”

ack sedan. I didn’t get the plates. I’m so sorry, I thought-”

phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

traight to voicemail.

try again. Same result.

Panic is starting to override my ability to think clearly.

I dial again. And again. And again.

Ten times. Fifteen. Twenty.

Every single call goes to voicemail.

Where the hell is Sabrina? Why isn’t she answering?

“I’m calling the police,” Mrs. Hamilton says, already dialing.

“You do that.” I’m heading for the door, back to my car. “I’m going to Sabrina’s house. Maybe Jake’s with her and she just has her phone off.”

“Please call me if you find him.”

The drive to Sabrina’s place usually takes ten minutes. I make it in six, running two red lights and nearly clipping a mailbox.

Her car’s not in the drivewe

I pound on the fro

Nothing.

I try the h

I have

mo

It’s me!”

hen she moved back in-but it’s at home. Didn’t think to grab it this

?

The house looks empty. Dark. No signs of life.

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