Through the phone, the woman said, “Sir?”
“We’re both fine. Thank you.” He tossed the phone onto the table inside the entryway. “That alarm was loud, huh?”
Charlotte took a few more steps down, frowning. “Is it a monster?” The words were muffled, coming out around her thumb.
At least she’d spoken. It’d taken her weeks to open up to him, weeks during which he’d wondered if his four-year-old niece had learned to put together sentences.
He climbed the few steps and picked her up, heart still going wild under his ribs. “No monsters.” Not the mythical kind, anyway.
Noah carried Charlotte to the back door, which he’d left open in his rush to get to her. He closed it, then triple-checked the lock. He pressed her close, letting the soft feel of her push back his fear.
The cops would come. Nosy neighbors would see the cruisers and gossip. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Charlotte, healthy and in his arms.
He turned on the outside lights, peering through the glass doors to see any hint of what had happened. The flower beds, so pretty in the daylight, looked ghostly in the darkness, the foliage shivering in the sea breeze. Aside from that, nothing moved.
He hadn’t imagined the thump of footsteps. Someone had been in his house.
Charlotte clung to him, and he tucked her blanket around her. Despite his assurance that they were safe, terror wafted from her, stronger than the scent of baby shampoo.
“No monsters, I promise. We’re safe.”
Charlotte didn’t relax at all. She didn’t trust him yet. Didn’t trust that the world could be a secure place with grown-ups who stuck around and protected her.
“Let’s just make sure.” He turned on the sunroom lights.
“No monsters in here.” He let her get a look, then moved into the dining room—also empty—and the kitchen. “Monster-free.”
Her gaze fixed on the closed pantry door.
“Good point,” Noah said, as if she’d vocalized her fear. “Maybe there’s a monster in there eating all your cereal. What do you think? Cheerios?”
She scrunched her little nose in disgust.
He chuckled. Apparently, Charlotte’s grandmother hadn’t worried about healthy eating. When Noah had taken Charlotte to the grocery store, she’d pointed out all her favorites—the kinds of cereal that had more sugar than grain. He’d chosen one he’d loved as a kid.
It had not gone over well.
He yanked the pantry door open and shouted, “Boo!”
When no boxes of food responded, Charlotte grinned around her thumb.
“Yay! Your Cheerios are safe!” He continued the search throughout the first floor, checking under every piece of furniture and in every closet, making a game of it.
By the time they were on their way upstairs, Charlotte was giggling.
A sharp knock sounded on the front door, and her eyes popped wide.
“It’s okay. It’s the police.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “They’re going to double-check and make sure we’re safe.”
She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, her legs around his torso, and clung like a barnacle.
Her fear seemed to be of much more than monsters. He angled back to see her face, but she wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t lift her head from where she’d buried it in his neck.
“Charlie-Bear, you’re safe here.” And then he realized what she was afraid of. “I promise, nobody’s going to take you away from me. This is your home. You’ll always be safe here.” His heart squeezed for this poor child. She’d finally started to feel secure with him, and now this.
“You promise?” The words were so faint, he wasn’t sure he’d really heard them or just felt them, soul-deep.
“I promise, sweetheart. You’re home now. This is where you belong.”
