THIS WASN'T OVER.

I ran up to Captain Noroski, the fire chief, who was bark-ing commands to his men searching through the house. "Lightower's sister says there was a six-month-old baby inside."

"No one's inside, Lieutenant¹. My men are just finishing the upper floor. Unless you wanna go inside and look around again yourself."

Suddenly the layout of the burning building came back to me. I could see it now. Down that same hallway where I'd found the boy. My heart jumped. "Not the upper floors, Captain, the first." There could've been a nursery down there, too.

Noroski radioed someone still inside the site. He directed him down the front hall.

We stood in front of the smoking house, and a sickening feeling churned in my stomach. The idea of a baby still in there. Someone I could've saved. We waited while Captain Noroski's men picked through the rubble².

Finally, a fireman climbed out from the debris³ on the ground floor. "Nothing," he called out. "We found the nurs-ery. Crib and a bassinet buried under a lot of rubble. But no baby."

Dianne Aronoff uttered a cry of joy. Her niece wasn't in there. Then a look of panic set in, her face registering a com-pletely new horror. If Caitlin wasn't there, where was she?