“Where’s Greta?” I say. “She said she had to go. She ended up getting a flight late tonight and had to run, but she said to tell you that you’re going to be a wonderful mother.” I look up at him, my head throbbing. Another cramp seizes my lower abdomen. I’ve got to get to the hospital—he’s right. There’s no time to call the police now. And by the time I do, Greta will be out of the country. She planned it this way. She knew that if she told me, I would feel compelled to report her. She didn’t tell me until the last second for that reason. But she wanted me to know. She wanted me to know that
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