And it was, even though Charlotte wasn’t his, and the promise wasn’t his to make.
One battle at a time.
He waited for some reaction, but she didn’t speak again and didn’t let up her grip on him.
The next time he saw his brother, he was going to punch him square in the face.
Noah carried Charlotte down to the foyer, which was now lit by flashing red and blue lights coming through the windows, and opened the front door.
A cop stood on the porch, another at the bottom of the steps. Two more were shining flashlights into the bushes in the front yard.
Noah was thankful they’d come, though he could’ve lived without the patrol car’s strobe-lighting the neighborhood.
“It’s Noah, right?” The officer at the door was a stocky guy with a buzz cut. He looked vaguely familiar. “I went to school with your brother. I’m Mason Pike.”
“Right.” Noah didn’t recognize him, but then he and Jasper hadn’t run in the same crowd. “Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t hear you had a kid.”
“Long story.”
Mason stayed quiet as if waiting for Noah to share. After a moment, he asked, “What happened tonight?”
“The patio door opened and set the alarm off. I’m guessing the wind blew it open.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed.
There was very little wind, so Noah’s theory made no sense. He glared at the cop, a look intended to say,Keep your opinions to yourself.
The last thing he needed was to scare Charlotte even more.
Mason shifted his weight, angling to look beyond Noah down the center hall. “Can we sweep the inside? It’s best to be sure.”
“Of course.”
Noah carried Charlotte back into the house and settled on an antique rocking chair in the sitting room while Mason and his partner looked around.
Charlotte was smaller than a typical four-year-old, maybe due to genetics. More likely because of neglect. She was small enough to fold atop him, knees digging into his ribs. Noah rocked, humming a hymn his mother used to sing to distract her from the low but serious voices carrying from down the hall.
Charlotte had relaxed by the time Mason’s partner stepped into the living room, hovering near the doorway. He was a younger guy, looked barely out of high school, with a tired smile. He focused on Charlotte, whose head rested on Noah’s shoulder. “Hey there, little bit.”
She hid her face in the crook of Noah’s neck.
He smoothed her hair. “She’s wary of strangers.”
“Just wanted to be sure you’re both doing all right. Did you notice anything missing or out of place?”
“Haven’t looked. If it’s all clear, I’ll put her back to bed.”
Charlotte tensed but didn’t object. He was learning to read her body language, and right now, he readI don’t wanna go to bed.
“It’s practically the middle of the night, Charlie-Bear.” Fortunately, most of the blinds were closed so she couldn’t see how the sun was already brightening the eastern sky. He carried her up to her room. The cops had left every light on, which might’ve comforted Charlotte, but it only reminded Noah that nothing was as it should be.
Her things were undisturbed—her storybooks, the princess lamp he’d bought when she’d first come to live with him, the mountain of stuffed animals she arranged all around her at bedtime every night. Maybe their plush presence made her feel less alone.
He tucked her in and perched on the edge of the bed. “Shall we say prayers again?”
She shook her head, then changed her mind and nodded, wearing a grave look no child should wear, like she was weighing some private equation. Had this event destroyed the trust he’d spent months building?
