They had to get out of here before the woman’s last thread snapped.
Delaney mentally mapped escape routes and prayed an opportunity would present itself. She guessed this was a dining room. There were two windows that faced the road, three in the back. Interior doorways led to the hallway she’d come in through and, on the opposite side, the kitchen. She could barely make out a counter in the darkness.
“Stop crying.” Violet faced her daughter. “You’re fine. Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”
Her demand didn’t affect Charlotte’s sobs at all. The little girl’s face was red and swollen, her curls plastered to tear-streaked cheeks. Her gaze flicked from her mother to Delaney, eyes filled with terror.
“She’s scared.” Delaney kept her voice level despite the fear clawing at her throat. “Let me calm her down.”
“You think I can’t comfort my own kid?” Violet’s eyes flashed with rage. She stepped forward, the gun’s barrel glinting in the dim light.
“Of course you can.” Delaney worked to keep her tone reasonable. “But right now, you’re busy, and she’s frightened by everything that’s happening. The dark, the strange place…”
The gun, but Delaney didn’t say that.
Violet glared at Delaney, but after a long moment, she dipped her head. “Fine. But don’t try anything.”
Charlotte started moving the instant Violet nodded, launching herself at Delaney.
Delaney held her in her lap, wrapping her in her arms to shield her tiny body from the insane woman pacing the old floors.
Charlotte trembled, burying her face in Delaney’s shoulder. The sweet scent of her mixed with the musty odor of the old house—decay and neglect that seemed to seep from the very walls.
“Shh, baby.” Delaney stroked Charlotte’s tangled curls. “I’ve got you.”
Violet resumed her pacing, each footstep echoing in the empty space. She paused at the front window.
“They’re out there,” Violet muttered. “I can feel them watching.”
The police? Or Noah? She prayed Violet was right, that someone would help them.
After a few minutes, Charlotte’s breathing evened out, her sobs quieting to hiccups. Delaney pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. How many times had she comforted this child after a boo-boo or a scare? Now Charlotte was living her worst nightmare, and Delaney felt utterly helpless.
She had to do something. She had to try to get through to Violet.
“I just met Jasper yesterday,” she said, “but I can see why you were drawn to him. He’s very handsome.”
Violet spun, eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about trying to steal him from me. Bad enough you tried to steal Lottie.”
“I’m not interested in Jasper,” Delaney said quickly. “I’m in love with Noah.”
The words tumbled out, an admission she’d barely acknowledged herself.
But the confession didn’t calm Violet. Instead, her face contorted with rage. “You’re in love with him? With Charlotte’s uncle?”
“I was trying not to?—”
“You lied to me.” Her voice rose, shrill and accusing.
Charlotte jerked in Delaney’s arms.
“If you’d told me the truth that day in the park, I could’ve told Freddie. He would’ve spun it into a big scandal, and Noah would’ve lost custody. Then I could’ve gotten her back.” She gestured wildly with the gun. “But no, you had to go and lie! This is all your fault!”
Charlotte started crying again.
“Lottie, step away from her.” Violet’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
Charlotte clung tighter, her face buried against Delaney’s neck.
