When he stepped inside, Naomi and Grace were gone, their chair empty.
The receptionist called to him. “Ms. King said you could go on back. Room three. Down the hall, last door on the left.”
A flutter moved through his chest, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Instead, he nodded. “Thank you.”
The hallway was short with a strip of fluorescent light overhead. A mural ran along one side: animals in bright colors, the sun with a lopsided smile, puffy clouds that somehow looked cheerful.
He reached room three and knocked.
When he heard the “come in” from the other side, he pushed the door open.
The room was small. Pastel-colored walls, an exam table with navy blue padding and an overlay of sterile white paper, a rolling stool in the corner.
Naomi was seated on the edge of the table in her jeans and sweater, her feet dangling over the side. Grace lay in the crook of her arm.
Naomi looked up when he walked in and smiled. “I thought you might want to hear what the doctor says. But it’s okay if you’d rather stay in the waiting room. No pressure.”
Something in his chest shifted.
He froze and looked at them. Naomi with her arms around the baby. Grace with her fist clutching the front of Naomi’s sweater. The way Naomi’s thumb moved, slow and without thinking, in small circles against the baby’s side.
Such small things. Such ordinary things.
Yet the image hit him like a punch.
At once, he envisioned a room he’d never been in. A future that had never happened.
He could hear Caroline’s laugh, open and unguarded. He could picture her smile and bright eyes—a smile and eyes that should still be here. A smile and eyes that would have continued—if Caroline had lived long enough to hold their baby.
His heart thudded in his ears at the thought.
She’d been five months along when she’d been killed.
Micah had been working a case. The people he was investigating had threatened him. They’d told him to back off—or else.
He didn’t heed their warning.
Because of that decision, two people had paid the price: his wife Caroline and the daughter they’d never named.
He swallowed hard. Blinked back unshed tears.
The room came back into focus. Naomi watched him with her alert, careful eyes.
She must have noticed his flash of pain. She always saw more than he meant to show.
But she didn’t ask.
“If you’re not comfortable being in here . . .” she murmured.
“No, I’ll stay.” Thankfully, his voice came out steady, despite the emotions battering him.
He closed the door and crossed the room. He leaned against the examination table and peered at Grace. The baby turned her head and looked at him, dark eyes unblinking as if she were trying to figure him out.
“Did you see him?” Naomi asked, her voice low as if Grace might hear and understand.
He met her gaze and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t. You didn’t recognize him?”
