Do not touch the stroller. The words float in front of Lark just as her charming neighbor asks her to carry his sleeping baby up six floors. She almost says yes—until the next warning appears: The blanket is not covering a living child. He wants your fingerprints on it. The lobby is empty, the elevator broken, and Marcus Bellamy is smiling like he has already won. Lark steps back. She refuses. That night, an unknown number sends her a photo of the lobby—taken from the ceiling camera, showing her walking away. The sender knows her name. The police know she was there. And the stroller is still out there, waiting for someone else to touch it.