My hands trembled so hard I could barely unlock the driver’s door.

I shoved the infant carrier into the backseat and buckled it in as fast as I could.

Both babies began to cry now, their thin wails mixing with the sound of the rain drumming on the car roof.

“Shh,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

I jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

I shoved my ignition key into the slot and turned it.

The engine sputtered, caught, and roared to life.

I threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb just as a man appeared at the mouth of the alley.

He pointed a flashlight toward my car, the beam bouncing off my rearview mirror.

I stepped on the gas, the tires spinning on the slick pavement before catching traction.

I drove blindly through the rain-slicked streets of Boston, my mind racing faster than the car.

My mother had been murdered.

She wasn’t just a nurse who died in a tragic accident.

She had hidden Dominic’s firstborn child.