Free Mother's Milk by Charles Atkins Page A

plastic bottle of breast milk that she’d forgotten to take home lay on the floor. She struggled to stay detached, this was a crime scene, and she knew the best course was to get out of there, call security … call Hobbs, but the thought of others going through her things, it felt dirty and frightening.
    She startled at the sound of Marla coming into the outer office. She caught her secretary’s expression – fear. ‘Call security,’ she said, ‘tell them there’s been a break-in.’
    Marla nodded and backed away, her face trained on Barrett as she picked up the phone and dialed.
    From behind her desk, Barrett tried to make sense of the avalanche of papers. She tried to push away the feelings of violation and of being watched. This was no random break-in. Marla’s office hadn’t been touched, there’d been no call in the night from security saying the Center had been broken into. Someone had deliberately come to her office and trashed it.
Why? What were they looking for?
Her gut twisted at a horrible thought. Not caring about contaminating potential evidence, she pulled open her smashed top right-hand drawer. Her hands flew inside.
I’d left it on top.
‘Where is it?’
    â€˜What?’ Marla asked, standing on the other side of the door, looking in, her eyes wide beneath her dark bangs. Barrett sensed her fear, knowing it mirrored her own.
    She dug through the drawer spilling papers and clips, her fingers desperate for the familiar feel of the framed photomontage her mother had made of Max. It included the recovery-room picture of her holding him, surrounded by a snapshot a week for his first eight weeks of life. Her mom had given it to her the morning she’d had to return to work from her maternity leave. She left it in the drawer, and would look at it countless times, of course it had been on top. And now … it was gone.
    â€˜What’s missing?’ Marla repeated. ‘What did they take?’
    Barrett flung open every drawer, a sick feel in her gut. ‘It’s got to be here.’ She looked at Marla. ‘They took Max’s pictures. Why?’ She stepped back, feeling lightheaded and numb. ‘And why such a mess?’ Clearly whoever did this was looking for something, and they wanted her to know they’d been there, been through her things, and knew she had a baby. She tried to piece it together, how someone could have gotten into her office; the only locks that hadn’t been broken were the ones on her door and Marla’s outer door. They’d gotten into Marla’s office – assumed there was nothing there they wanted – and then into hers without any force – someone with either a key card or master key – but that was a short list.
    A phone rang. Barrett startled and then searched over the chaos on her desk to find the buried phone. She picked up; it was Hobbs. His deep voice just what she needed.
    â€˜We still on for Croton?’ he asked.
    â€˜Ed, someone broke into my office.’
    â€˜When?’ his tone serious.
    â€˜Sometime overnight, they’ve torn it up pretty good; it had to have been an inside job. They must have had a passkey or a key card.’
    â€˜What’s missing?’
    â€˜I can’t tell. I’m freaking … the only thing I know is gone is Max’s picture.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Ed, I don’t put out any personal photos in my office, but I’ve had his in my desk drawer … it’s like … I just need to look at it.’ She looked at Marla still in the door. ‘Marla, this is Detective Hobbs, would you mind …’
    â€˜Of course not,’ and she left, closing the door behind.
    â€˜Ed, what if this is Jimmy’s doing? What if he knows about Max?’
    â€˜Don’t go there, Barrett. Jimmy’s locked away. There’s no way he could know.’
    â€˜Yeah, but with his kind of money