The next day, Detective Ruiz came to speak with me in person. He explained that Alyssa’s husband, Richard Morgan, had reported her “missing” two weeks before. He claimed she was unstable, possibly dealing with postpartum depression. But police had found inconsistencies—security footage that didn’t match his story, phone records that suggested Alyssa had been trying to reach a shelter.

And then, they found her car.

Abandoned near the river.

Inside was her purse… and blood.

The baby—the one I had found—was the only clue she’d left behind.

I couldn’t stop shaking as the detective spoke. Somewhere deep down, I understood why fate had led me to that bus stop. Maybe Alyssa had been trying to get the baby to safety. Maybe she’d been too weak to go any farther.

And maybe, just maybe, I was meant to find him.