Page 31 of Whispers in the Dark
“Thank you, Mom,” Olivia whispered into her shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”
Charlotte kissed the top of Olivia’s head and pulled back just enough to look at her. “Of course I am. It’s not just about the tradition, sweetheart. It’s about what’s in our hearts, and I’m so glad you’re letting Alex be part of this moment. I’m so proud of you, of both of you.”
“Thank you,” Olivia’s voice was thick with emotion. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, darling. More than you know.”
Charlotte wiped at her eyes, feeling the calm warmth of peace settling inside her. This went beyond a wedding. It was a healing. A coming together.
A hostess approached, carrying a bouquet of pale pink, yellow and white roses. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She set the bouquet down in front of Charlotte. “These were just delivered for you.”
Charlotte’s smile faltered. “Who sent them?”
The waitress turned and gestured toward the bar. “A man over there…” She turned, looking around. “Wait…he’s gone.”
A hush fell over the table as Charlotte slowly reached for the small card tucked between the stems. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, holding it by the edges. The words were written in sharp, deliberate script: You’re the only one who can do this, Charlotte.
A chill ran down her spine. Olivia snatched the card from her hands. “Mom, what—” She read it quickly, her face darkening. “He sent this.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain composed. “Everybody relax. I need to make a call.”
Waverly County policeswarmed the restaurant. The HPB plainclothes officer broke cover and joined the women.
After speaking with Jackson, Olivia, steady and composed, took control, gathering the facts with precision. Her voice cut through the quiet hum of the restaurant, bringing order to the whirlwind of activity.
After a quick trip to her car by one of the officers, Molly had already preserved the card and flowers, her gloved handshandling the evidence with care. A neatly labeled bag sat beside her, crisp handwriting on the tag.
At a nearby table, Izzy leaned forward, her brow furrowed as she pieced together a psychological profile. Sophie sat beside her, flipping through a small notebook, whispering observations as they connected threads of behavior and intent. Their teamwork was seamless, one interpreting, the other verifying, their minds moving faster than their pens.
With an officer in tow, Ruth weaved through the café with quiet authority, her presence commanding. She stopped at each table, pen poised over her notepad as she coaxed details from wary patrons. A woman in a green dress twisted her napkin anxiously, recalling what she had seen. A bartender behind the counter furrowed his brow, recounting how the card and flowers were left behind. Every statement added a new layer to the puzzle, but the picture remained frustratingly incomplete.
Brad, Alex, Ethan, and Noah slipped into the booth from both sides, surrounding Charlotte, their movements gentle, their expressions tense. She remained eerily quiet, her fingers laced together in her lap, her eyes fixed on the tabletop as if searching for answers in the grain of the wood.
The restaurant buzzed with a mix of curiosity and unease. Conversations were hushed, eyes darting toward the booth. And then, Charlotte finally spoke.
Eleven
Alex didn’t missthe shift in Charlotte’s breathing. It was shallower now, less controlled. He slid an arm around her shoulders without a word. She leaned into him, just barely, but enough for him to feel it: that quiet surrender that only came when she couldn’t hold it all together by herself.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair. “We’ll grab Bailey first, then head to Sophie and Tristan’s. We’ll figure the rest out after.”
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either. That was enough.
Across the room, Brad’s jaw tightened as he glanced toward the door, then turned to Isobel. She’d been quiet since the moment the men entered, yet still watchful, calculating. Alex respected that about her. She read people fast, and she didn’t miss much.
Brad stepped in close to her, brushing a kiss across her forehead and resting a hand at the small of her back. His voice was low. “Stay with the others. I’ll be back soon.”
Isobel nodded once. Not a blink of resistance. She understood. This wasn’t a conversation. It was a deployment.
No one pressed for more details. And that, Alex knew, meant they were all running the same mental math. Whatever Brad and Sophie weren’t saying, they would share when the time was right. That was how this family worked. Trust was given in pieces, not explanations.
They left the restaurant together in tight formation, not planned, just instinctual. Alex moved beside Charlotte, one hand remaining on the small of her back, steadying her without drawing attention. She didn’t need a spotlight. She needed solid ground.
The air outside cut against his face. It was dry, sharp, biting, but it wasn’t the cold that made his skin crawl. It was the knowing.
Whoever orchestrated this wasn’t just trying to rattle Charlotte. They were trying to shake the foundation beneath all of them. And now, it was personal. All of it. They’d drawn a line, and everyone standing here had just stepped over it.
They took Alex’s truck, Charlotte in the passenger seat, silent, staring out the window. He didn’t fill the space with questions. He just drove, eyes scanning the rearview mirror more than once, jaw tight the whole way.
