Right after delivery, my husband smirked at the newborn: “We need a DNA test to be sure it’s mine.” I held the baby tightly, tears in my eyes, and whispered, “Fine, let’s do it.” Days later, the doctor stared at the lab results with a pale face and said, “Ma’am, call the police right now.”

car seats.

That microsecond of distraction was all Megan needed. With a feral cry, Megan lunged not at Marsh, but to the right, grabbing a heavy, plastic biohazard bin and hurling it directly at the van’s side mirror. The bin shattered with a deafening crash, scattering medical waste across the pavement.

The driver panicked, slamming his foot on the continue reading …