“You got it,” I said as I gripped the steering wheel. “I won’t bother you about it anymore.” But even as those words came out of my mouth I knew they weren’t true. There was no way I could sit by and let Mark go through all this alone, even if he didn’t want me to have anything to do with the pregnancy or the baby. I’d have to find some way to help him, even if I had to go against his wishes. I couldn’t sit by and watch him suffer like this. It was killing me to see him so miserable.
I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything more that day, but the subject was going to come up again. It was going to be obvious to everyone down at the precinct very soon that Mark was carrying a baby, and when that happened, he would have to let me help him.
After questioning some suspects that seemed loosely connected to the fertility clinic arsons, we responded to a call on a stolen car parked outside an abandoned warehouse. That was starting to sound like the m.o. of the fringe group that was under suspicion. They seemed to be squatting, or at the very least spending a lot of their time, in some of the abandoned warehouses in Old Town.
After we ran a check on the plates, a big part of me wanted to tell Mark to stay in the car—that it would be no big deal for me to run in and check things out. But I knew there was no way that was going to fly. We both got out of the car and quickly moved up against one of the walls near some dumpsters. I didn’t know if there was anyone inside, but after what went on at the last empty warehouse, I wanted to play it safe.