Chapter 87: Predator, Part 7

Michael

I wake, blinking open to dull grey light and a sense of everything not being quite as it should be.

What's wrong?

After a few moments, my brain cells align. My back is chilly.

Rolling over, the space next to me is empty and the sheets are cold. I should have Charlotte lying beside me and James beyond her. Neither are in their accustomed place.

The memories assemble: the wee, small hours; Cara crying; Charlotte sighing, rolling out of my arms onto her back, then getting out of bed.

And a few moments later, a dim glow and a contented gurgle.

What time was that?

Two a.m.? Three?

Scratching the sleep from my eyes, I sit up, to see the pair of them, across the room each in one of the large armchairs we set next to Cara's cot.