Moth to a Flame

28. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Landon

“Regan!” I shout into an empty home, hauling ass up the stairs.

At this moment, in this very fucking second, I hate this house more than I ever have before.

The size of it. The enormity of this small mansion I live in.

This hope, I can’t stand it.

My lungs seize as I sprint into the bedroom. My throat locks from all this goddamn hope.

For the long seconds it takes me to get there, I pray I’ll find Regan waiting for me.

My stomach sinks to the floor when I don’t.

The bedroom is empty, the sheets tangled and crumpled on the floor. Regan wouldn’t have left the bed like this. She cares for our home. Either she or I make the bed every morning.

She wouldn’t have left the front door open.

I could pull out the CCTV footage and see what went on while I was gone. Check if she was taken. I did that once while stalking Lester’s apartment. Everything was intact.

That damn hope won’t let me.

She might be in another room.

There are so many rooms in this goddamn house. Bedrooms and bathrooms. The living room and den. An office on the second floor that I never use.

A childish part of me wishes she’d be in one of those.

As I throw myself into every room, look behind every door, I wish for her.

She could’ve fallen asleep reading a book. Exhaustion could’ve gotten to her, and she’s here. Sleeping.

She might be here, in the—No, damn it, she’s not in the den.

“Regan!” Silence. “Regan!”

I knew it. I should’ve seen it coming a mile away.

The moment I parked outside Lester’s building, I could tell something was off. Call it a sixth sense.

Call it intuition.

Something wasn’t right.

It didn’t stop me from waiting there for him. One of the guards I’d bribed assured me that Lester had been released. That he had nowhere else to go, and in five hours, the Greyhound bus would drop his ass in the city. Another thirty-forty minutes in the subway and he’ll be in Queens.

I stalked his apartment building for hours.

Fucker didn’t show up.

That was when my gut feeling turned into lead in the pit of my stomach. Alarm bells went off inside my head.

He wasn’t coming.

That left only one option, and that was that he’d gotten to her.

Regan’s old apartment turned out just as empty.

Going to her parents’ apartment would’ve been a waste of time. They hired security. He couldn’t have made it past them.

Even if they hadn’t hired anyone. Didn’t matter.

I knew. I. Knew.

Lester found out about me. About my connection to Regan. Where I lived.

One of the guards in Brinestone fucked up. I’d deal with them later.

After I have Regan back.

She’s gone. I’ve gone through the entire place and she’s gone.

The front gates were open and bent and ruined. That should’ve tipped me off. It did, to an extent.

Despite myself, I keep on hoping.

I’m out the door, jumping into my car and peeling out of the driveway. I turn on the fog lights and decide to take the road that leads deeper into the neighborhood instead of the highway.

There are cameras everywhere. The cops would find him.

Cameras.

Fuck. Right. The cameras.

I have fucking cameras around here. Why couldn’t I remember that?

That’s right. I’m losing my shit and that’s not good for Regan. I have to calm the fuck down before I make another mistake.

I refuse to believe I’m too late.

The car idles as I open the CCTV app. I upload the footage from the last hour, speed it up, and yes. Got you . The castrated rapist fucker.

There aren’t any cameras inside the house. I almost lose what little sanity I have left as I wait for him to come out with her.

Eventually, he does.

My woman.

He’s touching my. Woman.

I nearly crack the phone, I’m gripping it so hard.

Sadly, I need the damn thing to find Regan.

Fuck me, she’s beautiful. Takes my fucking breath away as she’s kicking and wrestling him.

I hate that he’s overpowering her. I absolutely despise that she was alone there with her worst nightmare.

At the same time, I am so proud of her. I’ll tell her that once I have her in my arms.

There’s no question about that. Regan will be back. I just hope it’ll be before he can cause some serious damage. I wish to fuck that he’ll be more concerned about being on the run than stopping to sodomize her.

Fuck.

I keep watching. Fucking Lester drove exactly where I predicted he would.

The Porsche’s engine roars as I kick the car into high gear and speed after him. I’m almost an hour behind. It sucks. It hurts me down to my core.

It doesn’t slow me down. I’ll get him.

I’ll get that poor excuse of a human being. He’ll regret the day he was born. He’ll have many, many hours to regret it.

“Call Beverly,” I shout the order, and the automatic systems dial her number.

She’s not just the only person I could trust. She’s not just the most tech-savvy person I know.

She’s a brilliant hacker. Moth to a Flame’s secret weapon against outside attacks.

My secret weapon to help me find my Regan.

“Landon,” she answers on the second ring. She sounds alert. She should, as I never call either her or Vince this late for nothing. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to hack into every camera in my neighborhood. Now.”

“Yes. Okay.” Faith murmurs something in the background, to which Beverly replies with a, “Go back to bed, honey. No, I’m fine. Night. Bye.” Her breaths are quick and shallow. I hear the keyboard the next second. “Just your neighborhood or a ten-mile perimeter? What’s wrong?”

I give her the direction I’m heading to, though I doubt it would help. There are only trees once I’m out of the neighborhood. Then, somewhere far in the woods, there’s a fork in the road, and fuck. I can’t think like that.

Focus .

“Okay. Okay. I have it. What am I looking for?”

“A white van. From about an hour ago.” The license plate number is etched into my memory, and I rattle it too.

“I see it. The cameras in your house.” A gasp. “Landon.”

“He took Regan,” I tell her what she already knows. “He took my Regan, and I have to get her back.”

“I’m on it. I have the cameras of the entire street up on my screens here. I have eyes on them.” In a sharp, no-nonsense voice, she continues to describe which direction Lester went.

No, he didn’t return at any point. He didn’t go in one direction to trick me, just to double back.

My car speeds past big houses and manicured lawns and high gates that look a lot like mine. They all pass in a blur. I can’t stop thinking about her.

Regan. Regan. Regan.

“Who is this guy, Landon?” Beverly’s enraged on my behalf. “Who is this kidnapping motherfucker, and what does he want with Regan?”

On any other day, I wouldn’t have spilled Regan’s stories. I’m not a fucking gossip.

Today is not any other day.

Today, Beverly will need his name and hear about their shared history so she can track him down in case…In case…

Can’t think about that. The trail won’t go cold. I won’t lose her.

“Lester Burkes. He raped her ten years ago. Was paroled earlier today.”

“Fuck. I’m so—”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry.” My knuckles are white as my grip on the wheel tightens. “Find him. Find her, goddamn it.”

“On it.” While she searches, she keeps telling me where he’s going and at what speed.

“They released him.” A loud bang echoes in the speakers of the car. She’s slammed her hand against something. “I still can’t believe it. They fucking released him.”

I believe it. I’m not telling her that they probably took mercy on the chopped-dick man. Over the phone? On a call that could be traced? Fuck no.

As far as the world is concerned, I never went anywhere near this motherfucker.

I didn’t send someone to cut his dick off.

I’m just a man looking for his kidnapped woman.

No one will point any finger at me once he’s gone. I’ll stay right here with Regan. For the rest of my life, I’ll stay here with her.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Beverly shouts. “The footage shows he flew by the last house and went into the road that leads to the woods. But I’m on it. I’m downloading the area’s map. Here are his possible exits, right. Good. Oh, shit. Not good. I’m so—”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. What’s wrong?”

“It’ll take him a while to come out of any of the available exits.”

I curse. Slam my hand on the steering wheel.

“I have to call her family.” The taste of blood floods my mouth. Mine. I’m biting on my lip. “They’ll call the authorities. The prosecutor of their case, he’ll help. He’ll wake the Feds up. The police.”

“Yes. Good call.”

“If they won’t help.” At this point, I’m basically talking to myself as I scan the road up ahead and the sides. Wherever light reaches, my eyes go. “If they stall for one fucking minute, I’ll call them myself. I’ll threaten them.”

“No, you won’t. Your job is to be focused on finding Regan.” More clicking from Beverly’s end. “When I find her again, trust that I won’t let her out of my sight.”

I’m getting emotional and that’s a fucking mistake.

I have to be on the lookout for her. For any clue I might find, like tire screeches on the road, or a piece of clothing.

A piece of her.

A shudder goes through me, and I force that shit down. Dread has no place here.

Fury and a sense of mission do.

A dialing tone echoes from her end. “Vince and I will start making calls too. Us, not you.”

“Beverly?” I hear Vince’s voice. “What’s going on?”

“Hold on, Vince. Landon, you want us to call her family instead of you?”

Her family. Her parents have no idea I even exist. I sure as shit don’t plan on having them hear about me from someone else. I don’t plan on Rosemary hearing the news from someone else.

“No. I said I’ll do it.”

“Landon? What’s going on? Where’s Regan?”

I press on the gas pedal like my life depends on it. In many ways, it does.

For once, I’m grateful for the ridiculously expensive car. For how fast it responds. How it races ahead.

“Landon? What the hell happened?”

“Other than them, wake up everyone you know that might be able to help her.” I ignore Vince. Beverly could fill him in later. “Do whatever it takes. Call me if the van pops up again.”

“You know I will.”

Hopefully, the dipshit who kidnapped Regan will be dumb enough to pull over. To rest.

Something.

Vince starts asking, what the hell? again. I end the call.

I slow the car before placing the hardest call I’ve ever had to make. While I scan every available inch of the dark area.

“Call Rosemary.”

I barely get a chance to breathe before she picks up.

“Where is she?” Rosemary whispers.

Another painful twist at my heart. Of course she knows. Their bond is strong. They feel each other.

“He’s got her.” Left, right, up ahead. I don’t stop looking, not even when I hear Rosemary’s shuddered cry. “Rosemary, this isn’t the time for this. Pull yourself together. Have your dad call the DA himself.” I tell her exactly where I am and which direction I’m headed, as well as the Lester’s plate number, while she sniffles over the phone. “I have people on it, but we’ll need all the help we can get. Can you do that for me? For Regan?”

“Yeah. Yes. I will.” I hear footsteps and panicked voices that rise while Rosemary’s talking to me. “Find her, Landon. Find my sister. This can’t be happening again. It doesn’t matter that he was mutilated. He’ll hurt her. You have to find her before he does.”

“Find? No. No!” a woman shrieks in the background. Their mother. “No!”

“Who’s on the phone?” A man rumbles. “Something happened to Regan, didn’t it? Where is she? Where is my daughter?”

Not exactly how I imagined my first encounter with her parents. Not at fucking all.

Sadly, I don’t care about them or first impressions, either.

Regan.

“I’ll find her.” The metallic taste on my tongue intensifies. Blood coats on my lips. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll bring her home.”

Forty-five minutes into this maddeningly slow drive, and nothing.

Other than a random twig and a few leaves here and there, the damn road is clear.

Beverly hasn’t called with an update. I haven’t heard from Rosemary and her parents. It’s not a bad sign. They’re on their phones or meeting the authorities in person.

They’re doing their job while I do mine.

The growing panic and need to kill Lester are what keeps me awake.

My muscles flex as if I’m about to jump out of the car and chase down Regan on foot.

My eyes see better than they ever have.

The windows are rolled down and I listen in to any sound that might be her.

The sounds of branches whipping against each other and the odd animal scurrying from one place to another are all I hear.

Which is…nothing. Goddamn nothing.

At this point, I’ll take her screams over this nerve-wrecking silence.

Hope is a foreign sentiment. I still feel it. Hold on to it.

Can’t lose hope, or her. Fucking won’t.

My foot slams the brakes before my brain has a chance to catch up.

I’m not the first one to do it here tonight.

Black tire tracks appear on the road ahead of me. They look angry. Fresh. For some reason, Lester stopped the van abruptly.

Regan. Regan was the reason. No doubt in my mind. She’s brilliant, and she’s so obsessed with her horror books that she knew what to do.

Emotion swells in my chest. I snuff it out as I hurl myself out of my Porsche. There’s no time for warmth or pride or longing.

I have to be on high alert. My entire focus is placed on the sides of the road first. I don’t admit to myself that I’m searching for Regan. It’s too silent, and I refuse to think about looking for a body.

He’d spent a decade hating her. Ten years of plotting his revenge on the woman he brutally raped. No matter what she said to him, how she antagonized him to get him to pull over, he wouldn’t have murdered her.

He wants to torture her. Here, where he can get caught, is not where he would’ve done it.

She’s not here. She hasn’t been discarded twenty feet up ahead or on either side of the road.

Fuck. God, fuck.

Running my hand through my hair, I return to where I left my car and start scanning the road itself.

There it is. There it fucking is.

The clue Regan left me is right here.

A feral growl reverberates from deep within me as I kneel then and there. I pick up the small nail that I painted black earlier today. I’d recognize the shape anywhere.

My relief is a flicker of light.

He pulled out her nail. There’s blood on it.

He hurt her.

He.

Hurt.

Her.

I get into the car, and it’s torture. The worst pain of my life, going slow instead of burning rubber.

But I have to. I must.

She might’ve left me another clue up ahead.

I can’t miss it.

Hold on, love. I’m coming for you. I won’t rest until you’re back in my arms.