The Baby Named Hope

Chapter 08 - The Garden Isn’t Dead

The community garden looked dead when Miller and Ruiz reached it before dawn.

Rain beat down on blackened soil beds and the burned remains of the tool shed. Yellow tape sagged between metal posts. The old church behind the garden stood dark except for one basement window glowing faintly.

Miller carried a flashlight. Ruiz carried evidence bags. Both moved carefully through mud.

“The fire report said nothing survived,” Ruiz said.

“Lena said the garden isn’t dead.”

“She also gave a baby to a nine-year-old.”

“Meaning she improvises under pressure.”

Ruiz gave him a look. “That is one way to say it.”

They searched the beds marked on the old garden map Lena had once given Miller. Tomatoes. Basil. Marigolds. Sunflowers. The seed packet from the station had a faint pencil mark inside the flap: H-7.

Bed H. Row 7.

Under a half-burned wooden marker, Miller found a metal tin buried beneath wet soil.

Inside, wrapped in plastic, were more seed packets.

Each held a memory card.

Ruiz stared. “No one steals seeds.”

Miller let out a breath. “That’s what she said.”

They bagged the tin, photographed the location, and moved fast. Dawn was beginning to gray the sky. Whoever chased Lena might know about the garden too.

In the church basement, they found a cot, empty water bottles, and a torn strip of pink fabric caught on a nail near the back door.

No Lena.

But proof she had been there recently.

Miller stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his jacket, thinking of Ethan’s face.

She ran back into the storm.

Why?

Not away from Hope.

Away from the people chasing Hope.

The woman had used herself as a decoy.

Miller looked toward the waking city.