Chapter 9
Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.
Not the controlled, polite kind of chuckles. But real laughter, the kind that came from somewhere unguarded.
When Amayah’s eyes had met his, something shifted inside him. It wasn’t just attraction anymore.
It was . . . recognition. He’d never experienced this feeling before with anyone, let alone someone he was supposed to dissect for a career-building exposé.
He forced his focus back to the task at hand.
Ask questions. Observe. Remain detached.
Except Amayah wasn’t trying to impress him or sell a story or gain more followers.
She’d asked about his career, and then she’d listened earnestly. She treated each neighbor she’d met today with the same sincere kindness—from the elderly man with trembling hands to the young mother juggling two toddlers and a wreath.
Phones had been raised, laughter echoing, and more than a few neighbors had kept recording as Amayah announced the winner of the Christmas Door contest—a modest little bungalow twined with cedar garlands and soft white lights.
Amayah had hugged the elderly couple who’d won as if they were old friends, her smile wide and genuine, cheeks flushed from the cold and the joy of it all.
There was no performance in her actions. No calculating glance toward the camera. Just delight—heartfelt and unguarded.
When the crowd finally began to thin, Luke watched her thank everyone individually.
She’d been perfectly lovable and effortlessly kind.
For some reason, that unsettled him more than it should have.
When everything was done, he waved her toward his car. They climbed into his ten-year-old Mazda sedan, and he started the engine, waiting for warmth from the heat to flood through the vents.
The drive back to her place should only take ten minutes.
Right now, he wished it might last longer.
It had been ages since he’d felt this awake—this alive—as if the cold air, the lights, the laughter, and Amayah’s steady presence had shaken something loose inside him that he thought had calcified years ago.
For so long, his days had blurred into deadlines, cynicism, and stories that left him uninspired.
But today? Today had felt like stepping into a world that still believed in wonder.
As Luke steered the car through the soft glow of streetlights, they let the conversation drift into easy territory—favorite Christmas traditions, worst holiday mishaps, the merits of homemade cocoa versus the powdered kind.
Nothing heavy. Nothing sharp. Just a gentle exchange of stories and half-laughed admissions that made the short drive feel strangely intimate, like they’d been passing this same stretch of road together for years instead of minutes.
When Luke got closer to Amayah’s house, he could see even from down the street that there were no spaces available in front of her home. Instead, he parked almost a block away.
He hated the thought of her parking so far from her door at night. It didn’t seem safe.
Luke had covered enough crime briefs to know how quickly disadvantaged neighborhoods could change after dark—poor lighting, empty yards, and too many blind spots where someone could wait unseen.
But he didn’t know Amayah well enough to drop that warning. Plus, he had a feeling it wouldn’t do any good. She had a mind of her own—and he really liked that about her.
As they started toward her house, her phone rang and she hung back, excusing herself to take the call. He tried not to listen—kind of.
Her voice dropped into a hush. “No, not yet . . . I’m waiting until everything’s secure.”
A pause.
“Yes. The transfer went through. But the roof inspection is still pending.”
Another pause, softer still.
“Please don’t tell anyone—not yet. Too much is on the line.”
The wind carried just enough of her words to reach him.
Just enough to hook unease into his ribs.
Roof inspection?
Transfer?
Too much on the line?
After Hannah, secrecy always landed like a bruise.
Amayah ended the call quickly and stuffed her phone into her coat pocket before offering him a warm smile.
“Sorry,” she said lightly. “Just . . . something I’m working on.”
He nodded, but a sliver of doubt had already wedged itself beneath his ribs—quiet, unwelcome, impossible to ignore.
However, that was forgotten as her front yard came into view, and he saw what was happening there.
The Crump kids stood clustered near Amayah’s front steps, shoulders hunched inside threadbare sweatshirts, breaths puffing into the cold, and cheeks flushed from the winter air. None of them wore coats, gloves, or hats.
Amayah’s heart tightened.
Eli stood slightly in front of the others, thin but trying desperately to look steady—twelve and already carrying the weight of a man.
Beside him hovered Clara and Benji, both wide-eyed and uncertain, while Jonah bounced restlessly on his toes as if motion might keep the cold away.
Little Ruby clutched his sleeve, bottom lip trembling.
And finally, Maisie—barely three—stood silent and solemn, curls escaping her crooked ponytail, snow melting on her lashes as she moved forward to grab Eli’s hand.
Amayah slowed before crossing the space toward them. “Guys, where are your jackets?”
“We’re fine, Ms. Door Lady,” Eli said quickly, shoving his free hand deeper into the sleeve of his hoodie.
“You’re not fine,” she said gently but firmly. “You’re shivering.”
“We’re just waitin’,” Jonah added, like that explained everything.
“Waiting for what?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Just waitin’. It’ll be dark soon. Gotta get some outdoor time in. That’s what Mama always says.”
“Outdoor time is good—but you need coats, hats, and gloves. I’m sure she probably tells you that also.” Amayah wasn’t actually all that certain. Their mom seemed to barely be able to keep her head above water, and every time Amayah offered any help, Ms. Crump refused.
“You’re right.” Clara hopped in place on the sidewalk before darting toward her house. “I’ll go inside and get them.”
Amayah thought about inviting the kids inside her house for a snack or something.
But as she stepped toward her porch, she froze.
Her front door wasn’t closed, she realized.
It was open only an inch—but an inch was too much.
Her pulse stuttered.
Luke moved closer behind her. “What—?”
Then he seemed to realize the truth.
Luke turned toward the Crumps. “Did any of you see someone near Ms. Door Lady’s house?”
Eli quickly shook his head. “We just came out here. We didn’t see nothin’.”
Amayah forced a small nod. But the air had shifted.
“Who’re you anyway?” Eli stared up at Luke, an almost protective look in his gaze.
“I’m . . . Luke.” He narrowed his eyes as if unsure about the change of conversation.
“He’s a reporter,” Amayah added before turning her attention back to her door.
Someone had been inside her house.
Again.
Was it the man she’d seen earlier?
Quiet dread coiled in her chest as her anxiety escalated.