Turning the lock, I grip the handle and open my mouth to greet whoever it is on the other side, but the words die before they can escape.
Instead, I stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring at a crying Riley.
“Muffin.” I finally manage to squeeze out.
The little girl rushes forward, wrapping her arms around my waist, her sobs muffled by my sweater.
“Baby, what happened?” I ask, folding myself and pulling her closer.
Her crying continues as I stroke her hair back. My mind races with all kinds of scenarios, but she’s here, with no broken bones and no blood. That’s what matters.
I kiss the top of her brown curls and remind her over and over that everything’s going to be okay, until she calms enough that I can pull away.
Kneeling, I wipe her cheeks dry and brush away the brown strands stuck to her face. “Are you hurt?”
Sniffling, Riley shakes her head.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“Miss Sarah was watching me, but then a boy came, and she left.”
My heart beats for the first time since I opened the door, breaking free of the fear that froze it.
“Sarah left?” I repeat.
Riley nods, wiping under her nose with the back of her hand.
“When did she leave, muffin?”
The little girl shrugs. “I waited, but she never came back, and I got scared. Daddy says I’m not allowed outside without telling anyone, but I didn’t have anyone to tell.”
“Well, you did super good coming here, and I’ll make sure your daddy knows how good you did,” I praise, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hungry?”
Riley nods quickly, and her tummy lets out a well-timed growl.
Pulling a shocked face, I temper down the fury roaring through me. What kind of moron leaves a six-year-old home alone?
A dead one!
No, no.We can’t go around killing irresponsible teenage sitters,can we?
Standing, I hold out my hand for her to take. “How about we go lock up your house, and I’ll call your dad to let him know that you’re safe?”
Riley nods, letting me lead her out. Closing my front door, I lock it. I might only be popping into my neighbor’s house, but after four years of my mystery visitor, I never leave it open. Ever.
Unlike Doc’s house.
The front door opens with a flick of my wrist. I keep Riley close and do a quick walk-through just to confirm no one is inside and then head for the fridge. That’s where every parent leaves the emergency contacts, right?
Smiling at my own genius, I pluck the sticky note off the fridge door.
“Bingo. Do you know where the front door key is, muffin?”
She points at a bowl near the entrance.
“Perfect. Do you wanna grab some toys or coloring stuff to bring with you?” I check.
Riley nods and lets go of my hand.
