He was standing behind the two officers in less time than he would have liked. The blur of his dash through the hallway sharpened into focus around him, and he was there before he’d figured out what he meant to say.

“Can I help you?”

The cops made the turn that John had been dreading and looked at him. He felt their eyes land on him like weight.

“John Cooper?”

“Yes?”

The one on the right, trim and baby-faced, smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry. Everything’s all right.”

True or not, it was nice to hear. Hope fluttered in John’s chest.

The other cop, less trim and less dewy, scowl-smiled. John’s flutter hunkered down.

“Mr. Cooper, your wife’s been trying to reach you.”

“Is she okay? I was in a meeting.”

“She’s fine. Not to worry. We just came to see if we could find you while she was trying to get you on the phone. It looks like we got here first. Now, Mr. Cooper, I do need to tell you that there’s been an incident at your home.” The cop raised his hands, palms out, staving off the reaction that blazed up on John’s face.

“Was my house robbed?” John grabbed his head between his hands, all ten fingers flexed to exclamation points. “Jesus Christ, was it a robbery?”

“No, sir. Everything in your house is fine. And your daughter’s fine, too, but I’m just sorry to have to say that she was attacked in your home.”

“What?” John dropped his hands onto his thighs, leaning over like a spent runner. “What? Carly? Oh, God. Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“She’s okay. A bad kid forced his way in as she was letting herself into the house after school.”

The cop continued his story, but John didn’t hear him. Relief and fury flooded his mind, a chemical no-no of two feelings that don’t mix well.

The police weren’t there for him. He tried not to wilt. The deliverance from that specific terror threatened to buckle his knees. But the lump in his throat, the sudden rush of acid and heat from the thought of anyone hurting Carly, overwhelmed him. And surprised him, too.

“—and she was already over at the neighbor’s house, but they both saw the little punkass run across your lawn while they were on the call with 911. He must’ve woken up and taken off like the devil was on him. But your wife said there are cameras and we—”

“Woken up?” John was disoriented by the Goldilocks detail of a story he’d missed most of. “He was asleep?”

The younger cop glowed with amusement and surrogate pride. “She got him good. She knocked him out, Mr. Cooper.”

“Carly knocked somebody out?”

“Your daughter’s a little pistol. She’s really something.”

“Stepdaughter,” John said, and winced at the nasty impulse to distance himself.