Early the next morning, Mackenzie still asleep in the crib in the living room, Liam's door is kicked in.
Eric. Visibly drunk.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Where is she?"
"Where's who?"
"Sloane. Where the hell is she?"
"She's not here. Get out of my house, or I'll call the cops," Liam threatens, smelling the alcohol on Eric's breath.
"Screw you," Eric says, starting to wander through the house until he stops next to Mackenzie in her crib.
"Get the hell away from her," grabbing the phone from his pocket. "You touch her, I dial 9-1-1."
"My baby died," Eric says just looking at her.
"I know," he agrees, "and I'm so sorry."
"I didn't do anything, and she died."
"Those things happen man."
"I knew she was yours."
"Well you were gonna raise her, so she was yours too."
"Nah," he laughs. "She was never mine. Neither of them was, Sloane and the baby."
"You told her, didn't you?"
"She left. She's everything to me, and she left."
"Sit down man."
"I have to find her," Eric turns, stumbling out the door.
"Bro you're drunk you don't need to be driving."
"Like you care," he gets in the car, swerving off.