“Then you’re safe. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.” The words came easily. Noah Aylett’s devotion to Charlotte was absolute.
Charlotte slipped off the bed and waited while Delaney slowly pulled herself upright, changed into jeans and a sweater, and pulled a brush through her hair. Even that simple movement sent pain to her chest, but she didn’t let it show, not wanting to add to the child’s fears.
She walked beside Charlotte down the stairs, one hand gripping the rail, the other resting lightly on her little shoulder.
The small living room felt crowded with three men in it. Mr. Aylett stood near the entry while two others occupied chairs in the seating area. She recognized the uniformed police officer from the night before and nodded at him.
The other wore slacks and a button-down shirt.
Both stood when she and Charlotte walked in.
Mr. Aylett’s eyes found hers immediately. “Sorry to get you out of bed.”
The mantel clock told her she’d slept nearly three hours. “It’s not a problem. Thank you for the extra rest.”
He nodded to the man she hadn’t met. “This is Detective Norton.”
He was a Black man in his forties with kind eyes and graying temples. “Ms. Wright, I’m sorry to hear about your accident.”
Delaney settled into a chair, Charlotte immediately climbing onto her lap. Her small body pressed against her bruises, but she wrapped her arms around her anyway.
“The mechanic looked at your car this morning,” Detective Norton said. “He called me with some concerning news.”
Mr. Aylett moved closer to Delaney, his jaw tightening. “What did he find?”
Detective Norton barely spared Mr. Aylett a glance. “It wasn’t mechanical failure or normal wear and tear. Your brake line was cut. Someone deliberately sabotaged your vehicle.”
The room seemed to tilt. Charlotte’s weight against her chest made breathing difficult, but not as difficult as processing what she’d just heard. Someone had tried to hurt her…or worse?
“You’re sure?” The words came out as barely a whisper.
“Clean slice through the brake hose,” Detective Norton confirmed. “The mechanic said it was done with a sharp knife or razor blade. Would have taken less than a minute if someone knew what they were doing.”
Mr. Aylett’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I told you something wasn’t right about last night.” His voice was sharp, directed at the uniformed officer who’d told her to call him Mason. “This wasn’t random.”
Mason shifted uncomfortably. “We’re taking it seriously now.”
Mr. Aylett looked like he wanted to say more, but he clamped his lips shut, glancing at Delaney.
He looked again as if to register what he was seeing. “Come on, Charlie-Bear.” He took his niece, relieving the pressure on Delaney’s chest. “Miss Laney needs you not to climb on her fora few days.” He settled her on a barstool in the attached kitchen and set her coloring book and crayons on the bar. “You sit here and color while we talk, okay?”
“’Kay.”
When he returned, Delaney gave him a grateful smile.
“Can you think of anyone who might want to harm you?” Detective Norton asked. “Any disputes, arguments, threats?”
Delaney shook her head, the movement making her sternum hurt. “I’ve been in Driftwood not even two months. I don’t really know anyone except…” She gestured vaguely around the room.
“You’ve lived in this house all that time?” He pulled a notebook and pen from his breast pocket.
“I’ve lived here a little over three weeks.”
“What about before you moved in here?” The detective’s pen was poised to take notes. “Where were you living?”
“I…um.” Her gaze flicked to Mr. Aylett, and his eyes narrowed as if he read her reluctance to say. He’d never asked where she’d been living, and she’d never volunteered the information. There was nothing for it now. “I was staying in a women’s shelter in town.”
The detective’s eyebrows hiked. “Are you running from someone? A husband or boyfriend, or?—”
