My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

This was his daughter.

His pregnant daughter.

And his six-year-old granddaughter was standing beside blood on the kitchen floor because Trent Huxley had finally become exactly the kind of coward Harry had always feared he was.

“Listen to me, baby girl,” Harry said, forcing steadiness into every syllable. “Call 911 right now. Tell them your mommy needs an ambulance. Can you do that?”

“I already did,” Lydia sobbed. “They’re coming with the loud sirens.”

“Good girl,” Harry replied, his throat tightening. “Papa’s coming too. Stay with Mommy, okay? Don’t leave her unless the ambulance people tell you to.”

“Please hurry.”

“I am.”

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