Noah nodded as though verifying her brother’s story. “Yep, so I asked a man with a tray and he said if I follow him, he’ll get me one. Only—” Noah dropped his chin to his chest the way he did when he knew he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t obey.”

Lane lifted Noah’s chin. “Who didn’t you obey?”

“The man with the tray. I was supposed to follow him, only I heard a—” Noah puckered his lips together and blew out air. A squeaky noise came from his throat as he tried to whistle.

“You heard a whistle?” Charlie urged. “Then what?”

“I turned around and found this”—he lifted up the wood alligator— “on the steps. I can keep it, right, Momma?”

Lane’s chest tightened. Miguel. The cuts on his hands. His erratic behavior. Could he have come to the house tonight? Why? He wouldn’t hurt Noah, would he? Charlie’s warning about Miguel’s condition had planted seeds of doubt in her mind and it left her frustrated. Her heart longed to believe she deserved a second chance at love, but her responsibility was to keep Noah safe. She owed that to him, but especially to Mathias.

“I need to go home.”

“It’s late, honey.” Lane’s mom moved into the room. “You and Noah can sleep in your old room.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Charlie said, his voice dropping. “Until we get some things figured out.”

He didn’t need to say the words for Lane to understand the message. Charlie believed Miguel had been there tonight. Given Noah the toy. Was she wrong? Was Miguel capable of harming Noah? Killing Sydney? Lane wasn’t stupid. Random attacks at schools, nightclubs, and shopping centers almost always centered on a person suffering from some kind of mental disorder. Did God predestine these individuals with a sickness that made them a danger to others?

Did that mean she was just as dangerous?

“We’re going home.” Lane stood, taking Noah’s hand. “It’s been a long day and night, and I’d really like it to be over.”

She ignored the pain darkening Charlie’s blue eyes. Regret ached deep in her chest. What had she been thinking? If something had happened to Noah while she was off skipping into the woods like an infatuated adolescent . . . her life would be over.

“It’s probably good for everyone to be in their own beds tonight,” Sheriff Huggins said. “I’ll follow her home. Make sure she gets there safely.”

It wasn’t necessary, but she knew there was no arguing with the sheriff. And better his offer than her mother’s. “I appreciate that.”

She gathered their belongings while Noah said goodbye to his cousins and her parents. At the door, Meagan waited.

“I’m so sorry.” Meagan’s normally put-together façade crumbled. “I should’ve been watching him better.”