For a moment, my brain stalled. I expected someone to appear — maybe a neighbor who had stepped out quickly, or an exhausted parent who had forgotten something.
I even waited for a voice to call out, but the hallway beyond the open doors remained silent.
There were no footsteps, no movements, and no sound other than the low mechanical hum of the elevator.
“There’s no way,” I murmured, stepping forward. My boots thudded softly against the floor. As a fireman, I’d been trained for moments like this — moments where you find a helpless baby or animal and immediately make sure that they’re physically unharmed.
I reached around the cart and gently pulled the carrier into the light.
The rain had soaked the bottom, and the straps were still damp. Inside, swaddled in a pink blanket dotted with white stars, was a baby girl — tiny, maybe eight weeks old.
Her dark eyes blinked up at me, unfocused and unafraid.
“Hey there,” I said softly, crouching beside her. “Where’s your mom, huh?
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