A Daughter's Trust

“And even if your uncle wasn’t the best of brothers, wasn’t good to your mother, that happens in families everywhere,” he told her. “I see it often enough in the schools. You’ll have three ki

ds in a family who are great. They excel in academics and sports, have a lot of nice friends and obviously love each other. And then there will be one who keeps the parents up at night.”

Sue didn’t want him to be right.

Because she was right, too.

Which meant they were forever going to be on opposite sides of the fence.

So where did that leave them?

And where did it leave Carrie?

RICK WAS ALMOST AT the front door when he thought he heard a noise at the back of the house, down the hall by the vacant nursery where Danny and Donnie had slept.

He stopped. Listened. Told himself he was imagining things. And to get out.

He heard it again. Not a bang. Not quite a tapping. More like a grinding.

Moving quietly so he could listen, he turned back to the family room, to see if Sue had heard anything. With her head facing down the hall, she was slowly rising from her chair, both arms wrapped around the baby still asleep against her.

She glanced his way when he got close. And the fear he read in her eyes had adrenaline speeding through him.

She’d heard something, too. And whatever caused it was obviously not a familiar house sound that Sue could explain away.

“You stay here with him,” he barely whispered, leaning right up to her ear. “And call 911.”

Sue nodded, shielding the baby and sending Rick a silent plea. One he instantly understood. Jake was safe. But Carrie was in the back of the house.

Grabbing a candlestick off the mantel, the only thing close by that offered any protection in the baby-proofed room, Rick moved stealthily down the hall, keeping as much to the wall as he could. He recalled an old board game he’d played as a kid. Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the ballroom…But he’d rather overreact and have everyone safe than be taken unawares.

He heard the sound again, on the right side of the hall. And it was definitely grinding. Like someone, or something, was gnawing at wood. Or prying wood.

A squirrel maybe. Or a coyote?

Sue’s bedroom door, on the left side of the hall, was open. She’d left a light on. Her curtains were drawn, but what he could see of the room appeared undisturbed.

“Yes, that’s right…” Sue’s voice was faint in the distance, reciting her address.

The twins’ nursery was next. It, too, as much as he could tell from a brief glance into a darkened room from the dimly lit hallway, appeared empty.

His goal was Carrie. Once he knew the little girl was safe, he’d be more thorough in his exploration of the rest of the house.

His niece was in her crib, exactly as he’d left her. Lying on her side, sound asleep. The mobile above the crib had stopped.

He heard the sound again. Behind him. Between him and the family room. This time more clearly. It was rhythmic, and accompanied by a slight squeak.

Someone was prying something.

Candlestick in hand, Rick slid his free arm underneath the sleeping baby, scooping her up into the protective cover of his arm and chest, like a football.

With the child safe against him, Rick’s concern diminished. If someone was breaking in, surely he’d be more swift about it, and a little quieter?

Taking Carrie to Sue, who now had Jake strapped to her chest in a baby carrier, he settled the little girl into her foster mother’s arms. “I didn’t see anything,” he murmured quietly. “But the sound is definitely coming from back there. I’m going to go take a second look.”

She nodded, her face still lined with concern. “The police are on their way. Just in case.”

Rick stopped at Sue’s door. Made a quick check of the bathroom adjoining her room, and didn’t see anything that could explain the noise. He headed for the unused nursery. He hadn’t heard the sound since he’d returned from the family room.