Heather was Violet, Charlotte’s mother. She’d gotten close to Charlotte—and Delaney had let her.
Delaney had been blind to the woman’s true nature. All those conversations, the careful questions about Noah and Charlotte, the way she’d appeared at just the right moments. Delaney had been so grateful for a friend that she’d missed every red flag.
Once again, she’d proved a terrible judge of character. Once again, she’d been betrayed. Twice, really, considering that Noah had betrayed her, too.
She might be great with children, but she had terrible instincts for grown-ups.
Two suitcases sat outside her bedroom door. The sight of them made this decision feel final. She was really leaving this town, this family, this little girl she’d fallen in love with.
And the uncle she’d let herself become too attached to.
Delaney continued down the hall. Charlotte was usually awake long before this time of the morning, hungry and ready for breakfast. Delaney paused outside her door and listened. Nothing. No rustling of sheets, no soft humming, no whispered conversations with her new stuffed animal.
She pushed the door open. The room was quiet.
Morning light filtered through the gauze curtains, casting soft shadows across the bed. The covers were thrown back, the sheets vacant.
“Charlotte?” She listened but didn’t hear an answer. She checked the bathroom, but it was empty, as was Charlotte’s closet. Delaney checked behind the door and under the bed.
“Charlotte!” Delaney’s voice carried down the hallway as she checked her own room, then Noah’s, then every other room on the second floor. The guest rooms, the linen closet, even the small storage area under the eaves.
Nothing.
Delaney flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Noah!” Her panic echoed through the house. “She’s not here!”
Both men looked up as she burst into the kitchen, their conversation forgotten.
“What do you mean?” Noah’s coffee mug clattered against the counter.
“Charlotte’s not in her room. She’s not anywhere upstairs.” Delaney’s heart hammered as she watched Noah’s face.
He’d know where she was, of course. He’d know what had happened.
But she didn’t see the calm she’d hoped for. His expression morphed from confusion to fear. He hurried past her toward the stairs. “Charlotte!” His voice boomed through the house. “Charlotte, where are you?”
Jasper followed, but Noah turned. “Check the basement!”
Jasper did, calling his daughter’s name as he descended the stairs.
Delaney stood frozen in the hallway, her mind spinning through possibilities. She hadn’t seen Charlotte since Jasper brought her home from the police station. The child had been fine. A little shaken up, but…
The men’s voices were loud, shouting for Charlotte, getting more desperate by the second.
Delaney prayed they’d find her, prayed desperately. But in case they didn’t, she pulled out her phone and called 911.
If Charlotte was gone, the sooner they reported it, the better chance they’d have of finding her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
What Noah felt went far beyond fear. He was caught in a horror movie, and against his will, he’d been given a starring role.
Scratch that.Charlottehad the starring role. Noah was an extra. A spectator.
He stood helplessly while Detective Norton talked to the uniformed police officer examining the alarm system keypad. An hour and a half had passed since Delaney had called 911. An hour and a half, and they still had zero leads on where his little girl could be.
It seemed obvious that Violet had taken her. But wherewasshe?
“Hasn’t been tampered with.” The detective stepped into the living room. His weathered face held a kind of practiced neutrality that made Noah want to punch him. “No signs of forced entry, no bypassed circuits. Whoever took your niece knew the code.”
