“Who’s there?” she called.
No answer. She hadn’t really expected one.
Something held her back from identifying herself. If the shadow was someone on staff at the school, Paige didn’t want to blow her cover.
And yet, she might have to.
Running footsteps snagged her attention and she peered around the corner to see the figure disappear down another hall.
Paige gave chase.
Heard a door open, then clank shut. An outside door.
The shadow was gone, no longer in the building. She reached the door and shoved it open, being careful to keep to the side, out of the line of fire.
Looking left, nothing. Right, the same. Whoever had been in the building had most likely disappeared into the trees bordering the school’s property.
Did she continue to hunt him down?
Pulling back, she stared at the ceiling. No, he was gone. Finding someone dressed in black in the woods in the dark of night? Impossible without help—like dogs and lights and backup.
Her adrenaline rush began to ebb, and she pulled her phone from her pocket to see who needed her so urgently.
Dylan.
The text read, Will needs you. Come ASAP.
NINE
Dylan stood in the corner of the kitchen as Will gripped the knife, the little knuckles white and strained. “Will, I need you to put the knife on the counter, okay?”
How long could the little guy continue to stand there holding the heavy kitchen utensil? Dylan’s heart banged a fast rhythm in his chest. What was he supposed to do? How could he help Will? What was going on in the boy’s mind?
From a clinical standpoint, Dylan could see Will’s pulse throbbing in his neck. His chest heaved with some emotion Dylan couldn’t identify, although he thought it might be fear.
And anger.
Beneath it all, he could see the anger in the little boy.
And Dylan didn’t blame him. “Will, it’s okay, just put the knife down, please.”
Dylan glanced at the phone he’d laid on the counter. He’d already texted Paige three times. What was she doing? She was DEA, but she was also trained to work with traumatized children. And Will seemed to trust her.
Dylan wanted her here. Now. “Hey, buddy, you want me to try Paige again?”
The knife lowered.
Dylan took that as an affirmative and nearly shouted with relief. Finally, a breakthrough.
He reached for his phone and it buzzed in his hand. Out loud, he read, “I’m on my way.”
Will’s eyes went to the window, the door and then landed back on Dylan.
“Will, are you afraid?” Surely Will didn’t think Dylan was going to hurt him? Dylan’s heart nearly exploded with pain at the thought.
The little boy’s eyelids flickered. His breath puffed in and out. Turning his back on Dylan, he walked to the kitchen table, grabbed a chair and pulled it toward the back door. Dylan stepped toward him. “Want some help?”
What was the child doing? And where was Paige?
Will ignored him but kept the knife in his right hand, the chair clutched in his left.
Dylan considered going up behind Will and grabbing the knife from him, and yet Will obviously wasn’t ready to give it up. And Dylan didn’t want to scare him by sneaking up on him. As long as it looked like he wasn’t going to hurt himself, he’d let him hang on to it.
Finally, Will had the chair where he wanted it. He climbed up to look out the window.
Dylan stepped toward him until he was just a few feet away. “Did you see someone out there?”
Still, the child stared out the window, not acknowledging Dylan’s presence.
A knock on the front door made them both jump, and Will let out a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a groan as he turned to stare in the direction of the foyer.
Dylan backed up, not taking his eyes from his nephew. “It’s just Paige. I’m going to let her in. Okay?”
Will blinked and some of the terror fled his features.
Dylan made his way to the front door, still keeping Will in his line of vision. He made a quick check that it was Paige then flung the door open.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she stepped inside.
“In the kitchen. Will’s having some sort of …” What should he call it? A breakdown? A panic attack? “… something.”
He strode the three steps back into the kitchen with Paige on his heels. Her light scent drifted toward him, and he breathed in the comfort of it, thankful she was here.
Paige stepped around him and drew in a breath at the sight of Will on the chair, big knife clutched in his little hand. Her mind clicked with her training. How to approach him? She knew something of his personality, knew he’d suffered a trauma, knew he needed understanding. “Hello, Will.” She kept her voice soft, non-jarring, non-threatening.
His stance shifted, some of the tension easing from him. “Hey, little man, your uncle Dylan seems to think you want me here. What can I do for you?”
He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked toward the door, then back to her.
Paige could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Something had scared him. Terrified him. “Can you give me the knife and trust me to keep you safe?”
Paige waited for what seemed like an eternity as she watched him think about it. Finally, he nodded and held the knife out toward her.
Dylan’s harsh sigh made her blink, but she refused to look behind her, keeping her eyes trained on Will. She stepped forward and took the knife from his fingers.
His little face crumpled, and he began to cry, deep, silent sobs that nearly tore her heart from her chest.
Turning, Paige handed the knife to Dylan who took it and used his shirtsleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Her heart clenched at the lost look in his eyes.
Anger, swift and hot, flowed through her at the person doing this to this little family.
Then Will claimed her attention as his little arms wrapped around her waist, and he rested his head against her belly. Holding him against her, she raised her eyes to meet Dylan’s. Tears stood in his, and he shook his head in a helpless gesture.
Paige let Will cry for a good minute, then cupped his wet cheeks in her palms and lifted his face. Using her thumbs, she swiped the tears and told him, “It’s going to be okay.” Part of her felt a bit of guilt for telling him that, but she had a feeling that’s what he needed to hear right now.
She felt a touch on her arm and looked up to see Dylan motioning her toward the den. Taking Will’s hand in hers, she led him to the sofa and settled on it. Will climbed up beside her and rested his head against her. She wrapped an arm around him and within minutes, he was snoring gently.
Dylan sank onto the sofa, sandwiching Will between them. He stared at her over the little boy’s head and whispered, “I’m sorry for my frantic texts. I wasn’t sure what to do. He had that knife and …” He broke off and closed his eyes. “I knew I could get it from him if I needed to, but I think he needed me to let him keep it.”
Paige’s heart went out to the man struggling so hard to do what was right for his nephew. “I’m so sorry. And I don’t mind helping whenever I can.” She leaned Will against his uncle. “Here, let him lean against you. I want to look around outside.”
Dylan started. “You really think there was someone out there?”
“I don’t know. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to find out because something sure scared him.” As she shifted the little boy onto his uncle’s chest, his fingers grazed her cheek.
The spark that arced between them took her breath away, and she gulped. Her lungs struggled to remember how to function, and her pulse skipped a happy beat. The smokey look in his eyes said he felt the exact same thing she did.
Paige cleared her throat and looked at Will, trying to force a coherent thought into a brain that seemed to have short-circuited.
Dylan let her off the hook by changing the subject back to more serious matt
ers. A fact for which she was grateful. He said, “Will was worried about the back door. If he saw something, it was out there.”
She frowned. “In the garage?”
“Yeah. I hadn’t shut the garage door yet so anyone could have walked inside.” Paige grimaced and watched Dylan flush. Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “I know. I should have closed it the minute we pulled in. I’m just not used to … looking over my shoulder.”
Paige stood. “I hate to say it, but until we figure out what’s going on around this little town, you might want to start.” She looked at Will, then back at Dylan. “Do you know how long he was in the kitchen?”
“Not entirely. I thought he was asleep in his bed. I only came in here because I heard a noise. It was him.”
She nodded. “All right. I’ll be right back.”
Slipping out the door, she removed the strap over her weapon and skirted around to the garage.
Looking for anything out of the ordinary, Paige scanned the area around the house.
Spying nothing there, she worked her way into the garage. The light came on, and she saw Dylan framed in the window. He opened the door and stood there, watching her. Examining the garage.
She spotted her mangled bike leaning against the wall and grimaced. “You would have been justified in sending it to the dump.”
He shrugged. “It looks pretty expensive. If you can have it repaired …”
Lifting a brow, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
Then he said, “Over there, beside the gas can.”
“What?”
“It’s dirt.”
She glanced at him. “And that’s unusual in your garage?”
A smile curved his lips, but it had no humor in it. “It is when I just cleaned the garage early this morning before I took Will to school. There’s no reason for it to be in here.”
“What about Will’s shoes? What if he was playing at school and—”
Dylan was shaking his head. “No. I’m telling you, that wasn’t there when I walked in the house a few hours ago.”
“Okay, then my guess is Will saw someone in the window of that door, and it terrified him. He grabbed the knife …”
“But why wouldn’t he give it to me? Why wouldn’t he hand it over when I asked him for it?”
Paige frowned, thinking. “Did he act threatening toward you?”
“No, not at all. It was like he was torn. He wanted to check the door, but he didn’t want to leave me….” Again, he trailed off.
“Do you think he felt like he needed to protect you for some reason?”
Dylan blew out a sigh. “I can’t imagine why. It makes no sense.”
“I’m not saying that’s what he was doing. It’s just a theory.”
Paige reentered the house and saw he’d covered Will with a blanket from the couch. Dylan looked at her. “He connects with you. Somehow, someway—in a way that I can’t—he’s picked you to bond with.” Paige couldn’t tell exactly how he felt about that, but it didn’t seem to upset him or make him jealous.
He studied her for a few moments, then moved closer. She froze when he lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek. He whispered, “I don’t blame him.”
Paige felt her heart clog her throat as she met his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” A flush crept into his cheeks and he looked like he wanted to bite his tongue. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “I mean, I can’t believe how God dropped you into my life right when I needed Him to.”
“God?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “You know, I’ve been so busy building a life, climbing the career ladder, putting the bad guys in jail, I haven’t really stopped to think about God much lately.”
Dylan dropped his hand and led her over to the second couch facing the fireplace. She sat down and he scooted next to her. Very close to her. She almost asked him to move so she could think straight, then decided she liked having him so near.
He was saying, “You mentioned that your childhood wasn’t exactly ideal. Can you tell me a little about it?”
The question jarred her. She didn’t want to think about her lousy past. But she wanted something with this man. Something she wasn’t sure she could have. Something she was scared to consider. “I grew up in a crack house, basically.”
He choked. “A what?”
“It’s not a pretty story, Dylan. It wasn’t country club and tee times for me.”
Incredulous, he just stared, then asked, “So how did you get from there to … here?”
Paige leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “There was a couple in our neighborhood, Mama Ida and Papa Stu. They could have probably lived anywhere they wanted to, but they chose to stay in that neighborhood and do their best to save the children.”
“Missionaries?”
“Technically. I guess. They didn’t call themselves missionaries, but they definitely did mission work. I would go over to their house every chance I got. My mom didn’t care. She was strung out most of the time and didn’t notice whether I came home or not.”
“What about a grandparent or a family member? There was no one else you could have lived with?”
“No. As far as I know, my mother was an only child. And my grandmother was as bad as my mother, so …” She shrugged, the old shame creeping into her as she related her story. And if he knew about Ben, there was no way he’d want her taking care of Will. “Anyway, Mama Ida showed me there was another life, another world out there. I wanted what she had. She’s the one who led me to Christ.” Paige blew out a sigh. “Funny, I haven’t thought about them in a while and now … All the memories are just flowing.”
He reached over and squeezed her fingers. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
She nodded and he leaned forward, lips millimeters from her. Paige drew back. She glanced at Will and felt grief pierce her. “And that’s why I’ll never be a mother.”
TEN
So, he hadn’t misunderstood. He watched as she left, his hopes crushed, mangled. She didn’t want children. And he had a bad feeling there wasn’t any way he was going to change her mind.
A heavy sigh escaped him. Lord, I’m not sure what You’re doing, but I sure wish You’d let me in on the plan. If Paige won’t ever be a mother, then we can’t ever be together. It’s as simple as that. And yet, I thought You might be working something out between us. If You’re not, then would You take away the growing feelings I have for her? They’re making me crazy.
Dylan figured God would reveal the reason He’d thrown he and Paige together at some point. But what if they weren’t meant to be together? What if God had brought her into his and Will’s life simply because He knew that she was the only person Will would respond to? What if Dylan didn’t figure into the plan?
Despair hit him. God didn’t work that way, did He?
He just wasn’t sure. One thing about faith was accepting that you couldn’t see the big picture. However, the one thing he was sure of was that God had a plan and whatever it was, it was the best thing for Dylan and Will. The thought reassured him somewhat.
As gently as possible, Dylan picked Will up from the couch and transferred him to the big king bed. Will didn’t need to be alone tonight. Normally, Dylan firmly believed children belonged in their own beds, but tonight … Well, tonight was different. If Will woke from his nightmares, Dylan wanted to be right by his side.
Dylan settled himself into the recliner once again and grabbed his Bible from the nightstand. Between Will and Paige, Dylan’s heart was on the world’s record of roller-coaster rides.
Again, his mind circled to the fact that Paige felt she’d make a lousy mother. He couldn’t grasp it. So she’d had a rotten childhood. A lot of people did. And they became parents. Some of them turned out to be good ones; some didn’t. Dylan flashed to her tender care of Will, her concern about the children at the school and the possibility that someone
was dealing drugs in a place that was supposed to be safe and nurturing.
She couldn’t see it, but she would be a great mother.
Lord, help me show her. But protect my heart if it’s not to be.
His brain worked on the problem.
And, slowly, a plan formed.
If God allowed it, Dylan wanted Paige in his life long enough to figure out if they could have a relationship worth fighting for. His gaze went to Will, still sleeping. He looked peaceful for once.
But how long would that last?
What had Will seen in the garage that had frightened him so much?
A chill settled around Dylan. Was it the same person that had set fire to his sister’s house?
And if so, had Will seen the person responsible?
Dylan shuddered and determined to check into an alarm system first thing in the morning.
As a child, she used to hate Saturday mornings. It meant being home all day. No school meant no food most days. Summers had been the hardest. Thankfully, the sweet couple in her neighborhood had fed her at least one good meal each day when school was out.
For the first time in a long while, she thought about her mother. Should she call her? Ask her if she needed anything?
Her gaze went to the phone and before she thought twice about it, she dialed the number.
“Hello?” The raspy voice from her childhood. It sent chills through her. “Who is this?”
She cleared her throat. “It’s uh, me, Mom.”
Silence. Then, “Well, well. Hello, Paige.”
“How are you doing?”
“’Bout the same.”
“You need anything?”
“Nope.”
“Mom, I …”
“I’m good, Paige. I’ve come to realize something over the past few months. You don’t owe me nothing.”
A surprising statement from the woman who thought Paige owed her for the simple fact that she was alive and walking the earth. “That’s not why I’m calling.”
Why was she calling? Did she think her memories of her mother had been faulty in some way? That her mother had somehow developed the ability to love someone other than herself?
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