FOUR

      The blare of his phone jolted him from sleep hours later.

      The clock said 7:12. The ringtone was the one he’d programmed in last night for Caroline’s number.

      “Caroline?”

      A muffled sound came through the speakers. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and tried to pull them on and not disconnect the call.

      “Caroline?” This time the sound was clearer, though it was no less confusing. Was she throwing up?

      “Jason,” she said, her voice raw and trembling. “Jason, something’s wrong. It’s Henry! He won’t wake up.”

      Another round of retching followed as he scrambled to pull on his shoes. He grabbed his service weapon, his badge and his keys. As he unlocked the door to his Explorer, Caroline’s agonized voice burst through the phone.

      “Come on, Henry. Please. Wake up!”

      A crash followed her words. Then silence.

      “Caroline!”

      Father, protect her.

      “Caroline!” She didn’t respond. The line was still open. He couldn’t bear to disconnect, but had she called 911? Was anyone else on the way? Why had she called him instead of Michael or Dalton?

      He put the phone on speaker and grabbed the radio. He called the dispatcher, requesting an ambulance and backup. Then he called out to Michael and Dalton and told them to get in the house even if they had to break down the doors.

      In the months since he’d returned to North Carolina, he’d been frustrated by his home’s nearness to the Harrisons’. Every time he drove past her driveway he knew he should call her. Every time he didn’t he felt guilty.

      But this morning, he was thankful to be at the gate in two minutes. He punched in the code she’d given him last night and set the delay on the gate to keep it open for ten minutes. That should be long enough for the ambulance to get here before it closed. Then he sped up the drive. There was no unusual activity at Blake and Heidi’s. Nothing at Jeffrey and Eleanor’s, either.

      He pulled up to her front door, slammed on the brakes and raced to the porch. The door stood open, and he could hear an ambulance screaming its way toward them for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

      “Caroline?”

      “Back here,” Michael’s voice came from the hallway that led to Caroline’s room. “I think she passed out. I can’t get her to come to. The baby is breathing, but I can’t wake him up, either.”

      Jason knelt by Caroline. Her face was ashen. Her breathing shallow. Michael was alternating between checking on her and Henry, while Dalton was fighting with the blinds on the window.

      “Dalton, what are you doing, man?” Jason asked.

      “Trying to get this stupid window open. I’ve seen this before.”

      “Seen what?”

      “Carbon monoxide poisoning. You said Caroline was throwing up, right? And the baby is out? It’s textbook.”

      He was right. “Forget the windows. Let’s get them outside.” Dalton moved toward Caroline. “I’ve got her. Michael, get Henry,” Jason said. “Babies are most at risk.”

      Dalton looked worried. “He doesn’t have a coat.”

      “The cold isn’t our biggest problem right now,” Jason said. “Get him outside!”

      He scooped Caroline into his arms and raced to the porch, Michael on his heels, holding Henry. As they stepped onto the porch, he could hear Dalton explaining the situation to the EMTs.

      They didn’t mess around. They checked Caroline and Henry for CO levels. It took no time at all to determine they’d both been exposed to dangerous amounts. As an EMT strapped Henry into a harness on the gurney, another held an oxygen mask over his face.

      Jason hovered near the chaise where Caroline lay on the front porch. Her eyes fluttered open and she clutched at his arm. “Where—”

      The words were cut off as her body heaved. She turned away from him, and vomit hit the porch. All he could do was rub her back as violent shudders tore through her.

      “Henry!” she gasped.

      Jason held on to her. “It’s carbon monoxide, Caroline. They’re giving him oxygen.”

      A flurry of activity caught his eye.

      “Hey, little man’s coming around!” The young EMT didn’t try to hide her joy. “That’s right, Henry. It’s okay, buddy.”

      “Hear that, Caroline? He’s waking up.”

      “I want to see him,” she said, struggling to her feet.

      “Whoa,” Jason said. “Do you think you can walk?” He scrambled around the chaise and put an arm around her. She was so focused on Henry, she didn’t seem to notice the condition of her pajamas. Her pants and T-shirt were flecked with the remains of her stomach’s contents.

      He held her tight as she shuffled toward the ambulance. “Are you sure—”

      “I’m fine.”

      He had to admit, for someone who’d been puking her guts out two minutes earlier, and unconscious three minutes before that, she seemed remarkably steady on her feet.

      Michael and Dalton hovered near the gurney where little Henry was blinking groggily.

      “Hey, baby,” Caroline said.

      One of the EMTs took her arm. “Ms. Harrison, how are you feeling?”

      Jason released her to the EMT and motioned Dalton and Michael over to the side.

      “Did either of you see anything suspicious last night?”

      “No. We walked around the house twenty times at least,” Dalton said.

      Michael smirked. “Yeah, so we wouldn’t fall asleep.”

      Jason couldn’t fault them for that.

      “Dalton,” Jason said, tossing him the keys to his car. “Trunk. Grab the duffel bag.”

      The kid ran in the direction of his car.

      “What are you thinking, Michael?”

      “Besides that you’ve got puke all over you and don’t seem to care?”

      “Besides that.”

      “Well, if that’s off the table, then I’m thinking maybe we know what our intruder was up to when he broke in last night. Since Caroline confirmed nothing was taken, we knew it hadn’t been a robbery. This might have been what he was after all along.”

      “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking, too.”

      Dalton ran up with his go bag.

      “Thanks, Dalton.”

      “Sure thing.”

      Jason peeked around the corner of the ambulance door