Page 68 of Whispers in the Dark
Alex raised an eyebrow. “No kidding.”
“Neither do you.”
The house still smelled faintly of broken wood and dust, like the chaos hadn't quite finished leaving. A lavender candle burned on the counter. But for now, it was quiet.
Charlotte took another bite of pizza and leaned back against the cabinet, brushing a stray curl from her face. “We made progress.” She glanced at the clean counters. “Still feels like someone else’s house.”
Alex nodded. He was sitting, crust in hand. “It’ll feel like home again. Just takes time.”
She watched him a moment longer. “You didn’t have to stay and help.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” he said simply.
Charlotte’s eyes softened. “Like that first Christmas?”
He smiled faintly, gaze distant. “Yeah… kind of like that.”
She didn’t speak, just waited.
“I grew up with Ethan,” Alex said eventually. “Since middle school. We were inseparable—played soccer, danced, got into trouble. I started dancing just to help with footwork on the field. He got me hooked. By high school, we were choreographing routines in his garage and teaching the middle schoolers on weekends. His folks hired me, and it provided beer money. It was this... language we spoke, without ever saying anything.”
Charlotte nodded quietly.
“College was good. University of South Dakota. The Knudson School of Law was harder. I stopped teaching, though I managed to take a class or two to stay in shape. Too many casebooks, too many nights chasing something bigger than myself. But I missed it—missed me, I think.” He picked at the crust, not eating it. “After I graduated, I joined the U.S. Attorney’s Office as a state investigator. It felt like a way to do real work, work that mattered. I also went back to teaching dance, and that’s where I met Molly.”
“That’s where you met Noah?”
Alex nodded. “Yeah. He was detail-obsessed, always three moves ahead. But he had a way of making you feel seen. He was calm. Steady. We had each other’s backs.” He paused.
“That first Christmas we met, my folks went on a cruise. I didn’t plan on doing anything. But then…”
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Charlotte said softly.
“And you’ve made sure I haven’t been alone since. My parents never liked the hoopla of the holidays. Even as a kid, we always went away. And, yeah, I got everything I ever wanted, but never from under a tree.” He looked at her, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “I dragged you out for shopping. Said JoJo deserved Christmas even if the world had cracked open a little.”
“You were so put-together,” she teased gently. “But you wore that ridiculous elf hat like it was a crown.” She smiled, lost in the memory. “And you kissed me when I dropped you off.”
“You looked stunned. You asked me in for coffee,” Alex said. “Then made fun of me for knowing how to use a French press.”
“You were so sexy and young,” she whispered. “I kissed you again, and then you… you danced with me. Around the island, right there.”
“I hadn’t danced with someone I’d wanted,” he said. “But with you, it was like breathing.”
Charlotte smiled, eyes shining with memory. “Then you scooped me up, carried me upstairs. You made love to me like I wasn’t old. You took my fear of being with a man away.”
Alex reached for her hand. “You let me.”
They sat there, the last two slices going cold in the box, the candle flickering low.
She sighed. “I was twenty-five when I got pregnant with Olivia. Married to Chuck. Still figuring out how to be a cop and a wife. Then Sophie came. Then Molly. I told myself I’d go back to school, maybe do something else. But life just… filled up. Ward filled my work life. I was an active cop. Made some great arrests.
“I asked to move to the detective squad. Figured the hours were better. They gave it to me, likely because I had ovaries. The murders hit our radar between Molly and Izzy. Molly never slept well, unless she was lying on my chest. That’s when I picked up all the missing people and started looking for the connection. I realized the deaths weren’t random. I’d read the blotter to Molly. She liked the sound of my voice.” She chuckled. “Today, a man went through a red light without stopping…” She said it in a sing-song voice a child would like. “I was pregnant with Izzy when we found Ward.”
He listened, saying nothing, letting her fill the space.
“After Chuck died,” she continued, “I stayed in motion. Izzy was four. Ruth was two. I couldn’t afford to stop. Emotionally. Financially. I worked nights. Took overtime. Said no to every guywho ever asked me out again because I didn’t have it in me to try. Chuck was my first lover, and when I finally did… Oh, Alex…”
She looked at him. “I didn’t know how to let you in.”
