Late afternoon, Erica sat in her car parked outside the local adoption agency. The setting sun tinted the scene in oranges and purples. She rechecked the address on the paperwork. Exactly here, at this deserted building on the edge of town.

Her palms were sweaty, she stared up at the faded sign, then back at her phone. ‘One missed call’, it said earlier, but no voicemail. Her eyes flickered against the agency's window, dark and empty. The office was closed, and panic rose.

“Well of ...