When I arrived, Derek opened the front door wearing sweatpants and an expression that looked far too relaxed for the middle of the night. He folded his arms and blocked the entrance.
“She’s asleep,” he said casually.
“I heard her crying,” I replied.
“Pregnancy stress,” he answered. Behind him stood his mother, Vanessa, holding Nina’s phone. She looked annoyed rather than concerned.
Then I heard a faint noise upstairs. Without hesitation, I stepped forward. Derek tried to stop me, but I pushed past him while calling for emergency medical assistance and backup. His calm expression disappeared instantly-
