The Girl With No Name

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Josie kept her eyes on Marie Muir’s head as it bounced along with the current. She had to keep going. The summer had just ended and, although the temperatures had been cooler, the water was not yet freezing. Still, the river was cold, and it couldn’t be good for a newborn to be in it for very long. That was assuming he didn’t drown. Josie pushed her body, but her limbs felt loose and jelly-like. Her lungs were on fire. It got harder and harder to take in air. She felt like someone was squeezing her, crushing her torso. Her vision grayed.

Then she heard it. A faint wail.

Adrenaline coursed through her, propelling her arms and legs through the water with renewed vigor. As she drew closer, Victor’s angry wails grew louder. Unfortunately, there was no sneaking up on the woman. Marie, who was floating along on her back with the baby in his carrier on her chest, spotted Josie. Panic crossed her pale face. Her hands shot out and started paddling, putting more distance between her and Josie.

“Stop!” Josie yelled. As soon as the word was out of her mouth, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. There was no stopping in the middle of a river.

“Get out of the river,” Josie hollered instead. “Swim to the shore.”

Marie’s arms splashed harder. Josie’s legs scissored through the water, catching up to her. Without a baby strapped to her chest, Josie had the advantage. She was almost within reach.

“Marie,” Josie spluttered. “Swim to the shore.”

She grunted and slapped Josie’s hands as Josie reached for the baby carrier. “Get away from me.”

Josie stopped clawing at the carrier. “Fine,” she said. “Give me the baby. Just give me the baby. I don’t care who you are or where you came from, and I don’t care what you’ve done. Just give me the baby.”

Marie labored to breathe as her arms flapped, trying to get away from Josie. Up close, Josie estimated her to be in her sixties. Floating was easy, but if she had to swim Josie didn’t think she would get very far. Her lined face was already an alarming shade of white.

“Stop paddling,” Josie said. “Conserve your energy or you’ll drown. I’m not here for you. Just give me the baby.”

Marie slowed her efforts and resumed floating. Bundled on her chest, the baby heaved in time with her breath. He let out a few more healthy wails for good measure.

“Please,” Josie said. “He’s freezing to death out here. Let me get him out of the river.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Marie slid one of the straps down her arm, then the other, pulling the carrier away from her torso. She turned it over so Victor was face up, floating on his back in the carrier. Relief coursed through Josie.

Then Marie pushed Victor away from both of them and started swimming for the shore.

“Son of a bitch,” Josie cried.

She lunged toward the carrier, her fingers brushing one of its straps. Victor’s high-pitched howls spurred her on. She couldn’t get this close and lose him. Not now. Not like this. With a final kick, she snatched one of the straps. She pulled the carrier to her and swam like hell for the shore.

It took several tries to get her footing on dry land. Exhaustion weakened every limb. Little Victor was screaming now. There were no houses or docks along this stretch of river. Only trees. Her sense of disorientation was overwhelming. She had no idea how far they had traveled or where she was—were they even still in Denton? Josie got her footing and placed the carrier on the ground so she could extricate Victor. He squirmed as she lifted him out of it. His tiny face was purple—Josie didn’t know if the color was from his crying or from cold, or both, but she clasped him close to her chest and ran.

Her wet socks slid down her ankles, catching on twigs and rocks as she ran. The sound of Victor’s shrieks were drowned out by her own gasping breaths and her blood rushing in her ears. When she finally reached a two-lane road, she fell to her knees. She panned her surroundings but saw no homes or buildings of any kind. She was trying to decide which way to go when the sound of a vehicle approaching drew her attention. From her right side, an old red pickup truck lumbered along the road. Josie stumbled to her feet, clutching Victor to her chest with one hand and waving the truck down with the other.

The brakes squealed as the truck stopped a few feet from her. A man in his fifties with thinning brown hair and glasses looked out the driver’s window, his mouth forming a perfect O. Josie could only imagine what she must look like. She scurried over to the passenger’s side and climbed into the truck. The man’s head swiveled in her direction. “I just rescued this baby from the river. He’s wet and freezing. We need to get to the hospital.”

Wordlessly, the man took off his jacket and handed it to her. He reached up and twisted the dial to turn up the heat. Then he made a U-turn and sped down the road. Josie was vaguely aware of him shooting her repeated glances as she placed Victor in her lap and stripped down to her bra. Next, she peeled off Victor’s wet onesie and dropped both their wet clothes onto the seat beside her. She picked the baby up and held him against her chest, skin to skin, then she pulled the man’s jacket over both of them. Hot air blasted from the dashboard vents. Beneath the jacket, Josie stroked Victor’s tiny back. Eventually, exhausted, his cries subsided, and he fell asleep cocooned against her.