John carried Leila to the penguin exhibit and stood holding her so she could see them. “Stinky!” the toddler pronounced, wrinkling her nose up adorably.
“They are kind of stinky, aren’t they?” The exhibit smelled very strongly like fish, and, Reese supposed, penguin poop.
Leila watched the creatures with great fascination. “Swim,” she said, pointing.
“Yep, they’re swimming.” John pointed. “Watch that one. He’s going to jump.”
Right on cue, the swimming penguin jumped out of the water and landed on the rocks.
“Jump!” Leila exclaimed, delighted. Then she looked at him solemnly. “Again.”
Reese laughed. “Again, huh?” He studied the swimming birds. “That one.”
“Jump!” Leila commanded.
The penguin did.
Uneasily, Reese remembered something he’d heard once about toddlers: Never do anything with them unless you’re prepared to do it fifty times. He pointed to one of the birds up on the rocks. “That one’s about to jump in.”
“Jump in!” Leila repeated.
The penguin did.
The child laughed in delight, and Reese laughed with her. He cuddled her closer, kissed her cheek again. She was so sweet, so warm. Her laughter made his heart bubble up. He was, he knew, hopelessly sentimental about this child. He didn’t care.
Eventually Leila got tired of the penguins. “Down,” she commanded, and Reese set her on her feet. She held his hand and walked for a little ways, while he pushed the stroller with his other hand. When she got tired of walking, she pulled at the stroller. Reese belted her in and gave her the animal crackers. They saw the sea lions and the polar bears.
The snow leopard was right at the front of its enclosure. Leila squealed, and the big cat turned its head slowly toward her, wagged its tail lazily. Reese felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He could see the cat’s predatory intentions in its eyes. Bring it, he thought. You want her, come try and take her from me. Endangered or not, I’ll make a rug for her nursery out of you.
Leila whimpered, as if she understood the big cat’s look, too. “It’s okay, Leila,” John told her. “I won’t let her hurt you. I won’t let anything hurt you, ever.”
They went to the children’s zoo. John got Leila out of her stroller and let her wander around again. He picked her up to pet the alpaca, crouched down with her when the Nubian goats got a little too aggressive. But the toddler was fearless. The goat pushed her and she pushed right back, laughing. She petted the pot-bellied pig and fed little food pellets to the sheep. Even the screech of the peacock didn’t alarm her.
One of the zoo workers smiled at him. “You have a beautiful little girl.”
Reese smiled back. “Thank you.” He didn’t bother to correct her impression of them. For today, just for today, Leila was his.
They explored the little zoo for three hours, and ended up back at Leila’s precious penguins. On a whim, then, Reese ducked into the gift shop with her. There was a three-foot tall stuffed emperor penguin there, and also a tiny soft stuffed penguin chick. John asked the toddler which one she wanted. She held one in each arm and said, “Yes.”
Reese hesitated, then grinned. “Yes, huh?”
For the first time, the voice spoke in his ear. “You’re spoiling her, Mr. Reese.”
“Yes,” John said happily. “Yes, I am.”
He bought both of the toys.
***
Finch hesitated just inside the door to the library. He could feel it. The tickle on the back of his neck, the small ball in the pit of his stomach. He was not alone. He turned back, checked the exterior lock. There was no sign of tampering. Of course, someone with skills like John Reese would leave no sign.
Harold glanced down at Bear. The dog seemed unconcerned. He reached down and unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar. Bear moved directly to the stairs, still showing no sign of concern. Somewhat relieved, Finch followed him.
At the top of the steps, he paused again there. The gate was open. He had locked it when he left. Bear went past it and lapped water from his bowl. Finch checked the lock on the gate. Again, it showed no sign of tampering. And the alarm was shut off. John was here, he thought in relief. Then he frowned. John was at the zoo with Leila.
He glanced down. There was a smallish pair of snow boots, black, in the shadow to the side of the gate. He looked quickly toward the coat tree. Her coat was there, and her red scarf. Finch took a deep breath and smiled. He’d told her she was welcome any time. He just hadn’t expected her to take him up on it so soon.
He hung up his own coat, then walked around his desk. The computer monitors were dark, his keyboards apparently undisturbed. “Christine?” he called softly. He looked in the back rooms. She was not there. He frowned, puzzled. If she wasn’t here, trying to hack his system, why was she in the library at all?
Bear sat down and looked at him. “Well?” Finch finally said. “Where is she?”
The dog cocked his head.
“Such!” Finch said crisply.
Bear jumped to his feet and ran back down the hall.
Should have put him back on his leash, Finch thought. But at least Bear seemed to know who he was supposed to be searching for. He followed the dog, more slowly. Down the corridor, down the stairs. He paused there and called softly. Bear barked, just once, happily. Down another corridor, around a corner, into the children’s section. Christine was just coming out, with Bear dancing triumphantly beside her. She had an old hard-cover book in her hand.
“Hey,” she said, giving Harold a quick hug.
“What are you doing down here?”
She frowned, uncertain. “You said I could borrow whatever I wanted.”
“I did,” Finch assured her. “But I didn’t think you’d start in the children’s section.”
“I’m just poking around,” Christine answered, a little flushed, embarrassed. “I want to see everything. It seemed like a logical place to start.” She looked back toward the stacks. “These were my first friends,” she admitted quietly.
“And mine,” Finch answered honestly. “My first hint that the world was a much bigger place than the one I occupied.”
His companion smiled wistfully. Then she shook it off. “How goes the zoo trip?”
“Wonderfully. Thank you for your help.”
“Not a problem. She’s cute. Was she one of your people?”
Finch nodded happily. “Yes. I kidnapped her.”
“That’s getting to be a habit, Random. How come you’re not with them?”
“I’m planning to join them for dinner.”
“Good. More celebration is good.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m on board with Will to look at Nathan’s files. He was concerned about Corwin still. I told him I ran it past my detective friends and it was safe. So we’re officially good to go. We’re going to go pick up some boxes tomorrow. I told him I’d take them back to Chaos a few at a time and go through them.”
“Thank you. I truly appreciate this. If he had gone to an outside source … it would have been very bad.”
“I like him, Random.”
“I thought you would.” He hesitated. “Does that make it too difficult? To lie to him?”
“No. It actually makes it easier. Because if he finds out the truth he’ll be …”
“Horrified,” Finch provided. “And in grave danger.”
“Yes.” She held the book up, showed him the ragged edge of it. “Your library has mice.”
“I know. I have traps upstairs, around the first editions. The enclosed ones, so I don’t have to see the little corpses.” He shuddered delicately; even without seeing the deceased rodents, disposing of the traps was highly unpleasant. He was a little too vain to ask Reese to do it for him ” but only barely. “It seems to keep them at bay, at least.”
“You need Smokey to come for a visit.”
Bear yipped happily at the mention of his friend’s name.
“You are wayyyyy too smart,” Christine said, smiling and rubbing his ears.
“Does she hunt?” Finch asked.
“Like a fiend. I take her down to the café when it’s closed. She’s caught eight, that we know of. She leaves me the little heads by her dish.”
“That’s … charming.”
Christine considered. “It’s a big library. You may need more than her, and more long-term.”
“Perhaps,” Finch agreed. “I considered poison, but I’m worried Bear would get into it.” He nodded. “In any case, we could give it a try. Perhaps she could come for a holiday visit. I’m sure Bear would be delighted.” The dog wagged his tail enthusiastically. “She’s right, you know,” Finch told him. “You really are much too smart.”
***
Lelia was getting fussy by the time John got her back to the loft. He took her coat and hat and gloves off, and her boots, washed her hands, then put her back in her stroller and, per his written instructions, set a bowl of dry Cheerios and another of finely-diced apple pieces in front of her. She ate both quickly. Then he washed her hands and face again and changed her diapers. He filled her cup with milk ” a fresh quart had appeared in his refrigerator, thanks to the magic of Finch ”and sat down in front of his windows with the toddler in his lap.
She was asleep before the milk was gone.
Reese smiled, took the cup and set it aside. Then he turned the girl so she was sleeping on his shoulder and brought her blanket up around her. She was warm and soft, and still smelled sweet, though now a little like goats and apples. He closed his eyes and remembered another time when he’d held her like this. He’d been handcuffed, and she’d been freezing to death…
He opened his eyes quickly. Outside, the sun was setting over the little park. Leila was safe in his arms, and maybe a little too warm. He turned his head and brought her tiny fingers to his lips. She wriggled in her sleep, then settled again.
She had not frozen to death. She was alive, sweet and strong and growing every day. John took a deep breath. “Oh, my beautiful girl,” he whispered against her hair. He could feel the warmth of her little body soaking through him like peace.
He did not sleep. He just sat, very still, and enjoyed her warmth.
It was the best gift anyone had ever given him.
***
“Mr. Reese?”
John tapped his earpiece. “Finch?”
“We’re coming up. I didn’t want to alarm you.”
“Thanks, Finch.”
John sat still, holding the sleeping child against his chest. Her cheeks were red and slightly sweaty. The door to the loft opened and Finch came in. He had a handled bag in one hand and Bear’s leash in the other. He set the bag down on the counter and stooped to unleash the dog. “You were supposed to put her down to nap,” he scolded gently.
“I couldn’t,” John answered simply. The dog came over, and he petted Bear’s head with his free hand. “How did you do this, Finch?”
Harold shrugged. “A simple matter of gift cards and theater tickets, plus the offer of a free babysitter for the afternoon. We have to have her home by nine.”
“Hmmm.” Leila stirred at their voices. Her eyes opened, then closed. Then she opened them and sat up. Her hair was rumpled and she blinked sleepily. “Dog!” she said.
Bear pushed his nose at her, and she recoiled, squeaking.
“It’s all right,” John told her. “This is Bear. He won’t hurt you.”
Leila looked at him. “Dog,” she said firmly.
“Yes, he’s a dog. His name is Bear.”
“Not bear.”
Reese chuckled. “Right. He’s not a bear. His name is Bear.”
“Dog,” Leila repeated. She looked at the dog again, then sat up boldly and reached for him. Bear stood very still while she grabbed his ears. He licked her face and she released him. But she reached for him as he moved away. John swung her to her feet.
“Wait,” Finch said.
“He won’t hurt her,” John protested.
Harold shook his head. “Socks on hardwood floors.”
John lifted the toddler and Finch swiftly stripped her socks off and tickled her feet a little. She squealed, and John dropped her to the floor. She paused to look at Harold, obviously curious about his glasses. Then she toddled after the dog.
“She’ll warm up,” Reese promised.
“I know.” Finch didn’t seem at all upset at the child’s snub. “She certainly has grown.”
“They do that.”
“I brought dinner.”
Reese stood up and stretched. He was stiff from holding the toddler still for so long. He rinsed out the sippy cup and refilled it with milk while Finch unpacked the dinner. Cantonese, from the smell of it. “Do Leilas eat Chinese food?” he asked.
She was still toddling around the open loft on her little bare feet, following Bear. Any time she fell too far behind, the dog circled back to her, gave her a quick kiss, and moved away again. When she caught him she pulled his ears, but gently, and the dog endured it patiently.
“I don’t believe so. I brought her … chicken.”
Leila swerved toward them. “Chicken!”
“Yes.” Finch removed a red and yellow cardboard box from the big bag and opened it to reveal five lumps of something that had once been parts of a chicken. “Supposedly.”
The toddler came to the table and held her arms up to Finch. “Chicken!”
He bent and picked her up. Reese moved a little closer, worried about his partner’s neck, but he managed without apparent difficulty. Leila hooked her arm around his neck and studied his face. She couldn’t possibly remember him, Reese thought, but she was fascinated by him. Briefly. Then she turned and leaned toward the table. “Chicken!”
Finch sat down, with the girl on his lap, and pulled the box over. She grabbed a chicken nugget and took a bite. Reese put the sippy cup within her reach, and also retrieved a cup of peaches from the diaper bag. He served Finch’s dinner onto a plate and pushed it over to him.
The reclusive billionaire seemed more than happy to eat with one hand.
When she was finished eating and had been washed up, Leila returned to playing with the dog. She was too tired to chase him now; instead, she grabbed onto the fur between his shoulders and simply walked around the apartment next to him. Bear seemed to prefer this to the ear-grabbing game.
While Finch cleaned up the kitchen, Reese went and sat on the floor. Leila settled onto his lap and he showed her how to throw a ball for Bear. She laughed with delight every time the dog slid on the wooden floor, and laughed harder when he brought the ball back to her.
Harold helped him give her a bath ” naturally, he’d brought bubble bath along ” and they tucked her into a clean diaper and fuzzy pink one-piece pajamas. She got her baby penguin and settled onto Finch’s lap with a cup of milk. He brought out a brand new story book, one of a dozen he’d brought with him, and read to her.
Reese sat back in his own chair and listened. Finch’s voice comforted him, as it always did, though it was odd to hear the usually business-like voice reading so warmly about telling the moon goodnight. He bent his head and sniffed his shirt; it still smelled like Leila. Such a simple thing, just a sweet little girl. He felt warm right to his core.
Too soon, they wrapped the sleepy toddler in a blanket and carried her and her bag and her penguins down to the car. Bear sat in the back seat beside her. She stroked his ear sleepily.
When they’d delivered the almost-sleeping toddler to her happily exhausted grandparents ”they’d been to a matinee, shopping, and to an elaborate dinner ” they paused next to the car. “Thank you, Harold,” John said sincerely. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a better day.”
Finch smiled. “Christine pointed out to me that we keep the lost ones in front of us, but we scarcely remember the ones we save. I thought a bit more celebration was in order.”
“Pengins,” Reese said quietly.
“Pengins, indeed.”
***
q95;
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