Page 102 of Exposed

“Let Shani smell it when you get to the spot. Then, tell her to look for Mom. It’s worth a try,” I instruct.

Shani is smart. I know she can help.

“Okay, keep your phone on loud, and call me if you find anything. Stay safe,” I tell my dad as I unlock my Camaro.

“Same here, son. We’ll find her. Your mom is a fighter, and she’s smart as a whip.”

“She is. Keep my dad safe, Shani,” I whisper when I lean down to scratch her ears, then pat her on the back. “Gowith my dad.” She hops into the backseat of his car, and my dad pulls out of the driveway first.

“Let’s go find your mom,” Jasmine says with certainty.

Have I mentioned how much I love this woman? Her support is life-giving.

“Damn straight,” I concur.

My phone rings, and Jasmine rushes to grab it. “It’s Mr. Truman.”

Our lawyers suggested we exchange phone numbers to make custody sharing smooth.

Jasmine puts it on speaker phone so I don’t have to take my hands off the wheel.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Something’s wrong with Simon.”

“What?” I say, white-knuckling the wheel in concern.

“I’m in town. I’ll meet you at your house in five minutes,” he stutters in a panicked voice.

“Should we meet at the hospital?” I ask.

“He was perking up, but now he’s worrying my wife and I again. I’m sorry for being rude earlier. I’m stressed out, but I’m willing to work with you. My wife and I need your help. You know Simon better than we do. We don’t know this city, and we’re too stressed to drive there. Meet us at your house, and we can go to the hospital from there.” His breaths are shallow, probably from stress.

“Okay,” I agree.

They drove all the way to Miami. I guess it’s not surprising. Maybe he and Mrs. Truman realized they can’t take care of an infant.

Emotions war within me. Hope that they'll give up their custody demands is battled by worry thatsomething is deeply wrong with my son. He seemed fine when I left him with the Trumans, but babies are unpredictable.

I call my dad and let him know Mr. Truman is meeting us at my house with Simon.

“Want me to come back and make sure everything is okay?” My dad asks over the phone.

“No. We’re fine. Find Mom,” I assure him, then hang up.

We’re still in my neighborhood, so it only takes a minute to get back home.

“What do you think is wrong with Simon?” Jasmine thinks aloud as we enter our house.

“I don’t know, but I hope they changed their mind about fighting for custody. If he's been crying the whole weekend because he wants us, maybe their nerves are frayed.”

“Hopefully,” she agrees.

A minute later, there’s a knock on the door, and I hurry to open it.

Mr. Truman stands on my front porch alone with the car seat. “Where’s your wife?” I ask.

“She’s beside herself in the car. She’s cleaning up her makeup before we leave for the hospital,” Heath answers, wiping sweat off his brow.

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