Her voice dropped lower. “I thought he wanted to bite me.” She pressed her face into his chest. “But he wanted to save her.”
Ethan closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Yes,” he said. “He did.”
That night, after Nora took the spare room and Ellie finally fell asleep in Ethan’s bed because neither of them wanted distance, Detective Morales called with the first concrete update.
The infant was stable.
Cold, hungry, mildly dehydrated, but stable. The doctors estimated she was between six and twelve hours old when found. Animal Control had scanned the shepherd and found a microchip registered to Thomas Bennett, deceased, of Cedar Ridge Road. The contact information on file was out of date, but Morales had already sent an officer to follow the address.
“We may have a family connection,” she said. “Maybe not to the baby directly. But probably to the dog.”
Ethan thanked her.
Before hanging up, he asked the question he had been trying not to ask because it felt presumptuous. “Did they find the mother?”
“Not yet,” Morales replied. “But there was fresh blood in the basket liner and on one of the blankets. She may need medical help. We’re working that angle tonight.” Her voice grew firmer.