Fighting for You
SNEAK PEEK
Noah Aylett preferred the hour before dawn to any other slice of the day, when the world was as close to silent as it would ever get, only interrupted by the whoosh of the rowing machine, the thump of weights, the whistle of his breath.
Unlike the rest of his life, these were predictable things. Things he could wrestle into order.
He racked the barbell—a clean, hard clank—then rolled his shoulders and checked his phone for the time.
Twenty till five. He had at least another hour before Charlotte woke, before the slow, sticky business of fatherhood—uncle-hood, to be precise—turned his orderly existence into chaos. Time enough for one more set.
He had just settled on his weight bench, hands spreading wide to grip the bar, when a shriek pierced his peace.
It was so out of place that he it took a moment to realize what it was. The alarm system.
Then his phone was vibrating, and his lungs filled with dread.
He stood, swiping to answer. ”We have an alarm sounding—“
“Yeah. I know. Let me check.” Noah was already headed upstairs, phone pressed to his ear. “Can you turn it off?”
“Sir, if you didn’t set it off accidentally—”
“I’m checking.” Because he hadn’t set it off, but maybe Charlotte had woken up early and opened a door.
That would be a first, but there were first times for everything. Thinking of all of this year’s first, his heart thumped in a way that had nothing to do with his punishing workout.
Mercifully, the alarm silenced, leaving the place quiet enough for him to hear heavy footsteps toward the back of the house. Footsteps that couldn’t be Charlotte’s.
He shouted into the phone, “Intruder,” as he hit the main floor and ran toward the noise.
One of the French doors that led to the patio was standing wide open.
It was still dark, but a shadow moved on the far side of the backyard. He continued outside, ready to give chase.
Then stopped.
Charlotte was in the house. Or was she? Surely the intruder hadn’t had time to get upstairs.
The shadow disappeared in the hedge—if it’d ever been there in the first place, not a phantom born of fear. If that was a person, they were getting away. Climbing over the chainlink fence, headed for the beach or even a boat.
He stood there, frozen, listening. The sharp scent of salt and wet fern drifted in from the yard, along with the distant slap of waves. No childish screams.
Noah scanned the grass for footprints, but even with the moonlight overhead, it was too dark to see much.
He lifted the phone. “Someone came in the patio door. Get the police here right away.”
“They’re en route.”
He ran back inside, anxiety crawling up his throat. He had to get to her.
“Can you confirm everyone in the residence is accounted for?” the voice on the phone asked.
“I’m working on it!”
He ran down the hall toward the staircase, fear plucking his nerves. He hit the bottom and looked up.
She was halfway down, eyes wide. She rarely sucked her thumb outside of bed these days, but it was in her mouth now, her ratty crocheted blanket dragging on the steps behind her.
Relief washed over him, and he breathed through it. “Hey, Charlie-bear.” Somehow he managed to keep the panic out of his voice.
Through the phone, the woman said, “Sir?”
“We’re both fine. Thank you.” He tossed the phone on the table inside the entryway. “That alarm was scary, huh?”
Charlotte took a few more steps down, frowning at him. “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 enough to him, weeks during which he wondered if his niece could talk at all.
He scooped her up with one arm, heart still going wild under his ribs. “No monsters.” Not the mythical kind, anyway.
He carried Charlotte to the patio door, which he’d left open in his rush to get to her. He closed it, then triple-checked that both doors were locked. He pressed her close, letting the soft feel of her push back the panic.
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, spying through the glass doors to see any hint of what had happened. The flower beds, so pretty in the daylight, looked ghostly tonight, the foliage shivering in the sea breeze. Aside from that, nothing moved.
A strong wind could have blown the doors open.
Except he’d lived in this house almost all his life, and never he’d known the doors to open on their own, not even during hurricane winds.
He hadn’t imagined the footsteps. Someone had been in his house.
Charlotte clung to his chest, the blanket wrapped around her. Despite his assurance that they were safe, terror wafted off of her stronger than the scent of baby shampoo.
“No monsters, I promise. We’re safe.”
They were, thank goodness. The intruder had been scared off by the burglar alarm.
His niece 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 look around.” He turned on the sunroom lights, illuminating the furniture.
“No monsters in here.” He moved into the dining room—also empty—and the kitchen. “Monster-free.”
Her gazed 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.
Noah chuckled. Apparently, Charlotte’s grandmother had preferred less healthy options. At the grocery store, Charlotte had pointed out all her favorites—the kinds that had more sugar than grain. He didn’t buy those, choosing the oat cereal he’d loved as a kid.
It had not gone over well.
He yanked the door open and shouted, “Boo!”
When no boxes of food responded, Charlotte grinned around her thumb.
“Yay! Your Cheerios are still there!” 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 the police.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “They’re going to double-check and make sure we’re safe, okay?” His words didn’t seem to soothe her at all.
She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, her legs around his torso, and clung to him.
Her fear seemed much wore than that of 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 guessed what she feared. “I promise, nobody’s going to take you away from me. This is your home. You’re 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 really heard them or had just felt them soul-deep.
“I promise, sweetheart. You’re home now. This is where you belong.”
And it was, even though Charlotte wasn’t his. 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 back down to the foyer, now lit by red and blue lights coming through the window, and opened the front door.
A cops 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 cars strobe-lighting the neighborhood.
“It’s Noah, right?” One of the officers at the door was a stocky guy with a buzz cut and looked vaguely familiar. “I went to school with Jasper. Mason Pike.”
“Right. Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t hear you had a kid.”
“Long story.”
Mason stayed quiet a moment, as if he expected Noah to share, then prompted with, “What happened tonight?”
“The patio door opened and set the alarm off. I’m guessing the wind blew it open.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed, and Noah knew why.
There was very little wind this morning, less than usual this close to shore.
He glared at the cop, a looked intended to say, keep your opinions to yourself.
The last thing he needed was to scare Charlotte.
Mason shifted his weight, angling to look beyond Noah down the center hall. “Can we sweep the inside? It’s best to be sure.”
“Come on in.”
Noah carried her back into the house and settled on an antique rocking chair in the living room while the cops looked around.
Charlotte was smaller than a typical four-year-old, maybe due to genetics.
Maybe because of the neglect she’d suffered.
She was small enough to fold atop him, knees digging into his ribs.
Noah rocked them both, humming a hymn his mother used to sing to distract her from the low but serious voices coming from Mason and his partner as they worked their way through the first floor.
Charlotte was still, her breathing steady, 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 was on Noah’s shoulder. “Hey there, little bit.”
She turned her face toward Noah’s neck.
Noah smoothed her hair. “She doesn’t like 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 read I don’t wanna go to bed.