Chapter 3
"Merry Christmas, brother," Cole said as he closed my door.
I didn't respond. The words hung in the stale air of my room, an absurd pleasantry that meant nothing.
Christmas. As if that mattered. As if anything mattered beyond the blue glow of my monitors, beyond the grainy footage I'd watched a thousand times, beyond the moment when my Cade, my Poison, disappeared from my life.
I turned back to the screens, my eyes burning from lack of sleep.
The footage played on a loop: Cade walking down Water Lane, arms wrapped around herself, looking small and vulnerable.
Her pulling out the phone, knowing it was me on the other end, knowing it was the last time she had spoken to me.
Then the van appearing. The men grabbing her.
Her struggle. The blow to her head. Her body going limp.
Every time I watched it, I died a little more.
"Slow it down," I muttered to myself, fingers flying over the keyboard.
"Frame by frame after the door opens." I zoomed in on the grainy image, trying to catch something, anything, that might give us a lead.
A partial license plate. A distinguishing mark on the van.
A glimpse of a face beneath those black masks.
However, the footage remained stubbornly impenetrable, refusing to yield its secrets, no matter how many filters I applied or how many enhancement algorithms I used.
My stomach cramped with hunger, but I ignored it.
The thought of sitting down to Christmas dinner while Cade was out there somewhere, cold, afraid, hurt, made me physically ill.
How could Cole even suggest it? How could anyone in this house pretend that today was anything but another day of failure?
I reached for the energy drink beside my keyboard, only to find the can empty.
With a curse, I crushed it in my fist and tossed it onto the growing pile of empties.
My hands were shaking, I noticed distantly.
From caffeine, from exhaustion, from the constant, gnawing terror that lived in my chest now.
Sleep wasn't an option. I'd tried once. Closed my eyes for what was meant to be twenty minutes and plunged straight into nightmares: Cade screaming my name as faceless men dragged her away; Cade bound and gagged in a dark room, her eyes wide with terror; Cade's body, pale and lifeless, abandoned in some ditch.
Her lifeless eyes accusing me of failing her all over again.
I'd woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, and vowed not to sleep again until I found her.
I rewound the footage again. Play. Pause. Zoom. Enhance. The ritual had become my lifeline, the only thing keeping me sane. As long as I was working, as long as I was searching, I could push back the darker thoughts, the ones that whispered she might already be.
No. I refused to even allow the thought to enter my head. Like the very thought of it would make it happen.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. A reply from one of my contacts in city traffic surveillance. I snatched it up, heart racing with hope, only to have it crushed again.
Marcus:
No new angles on the van. Still working on adjacent street cams. Will update when I can.
Not good enough. Nowhere near fucking good enough. I dialled the number, my leg bouncing with agitation as I waited for him to pick up.
"Ryder?" The voice that answered sounded wary. "I just texted you-"
"Your text tells me nothing," I snapped. "I need those adjacent camera feeds now, not when you get around to it."
"Look, man, I'm doing my best, but it's Christmas Day. Most of the office is out, and I'm working with limited-"
"Did you just say Christmas?" My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Did you seriously just use that as an excuse?"
"I-"
"Let me make something very clear," I continued, each word precise despite the tremor in my voice.
"I don't give a fuck what fucking day it is.
I don't care if it's Christmas or Easter or the fucking apocalypse. My woman has been missing for five weeks. She could be de-” I stopped myself before I could finish the word.
“She could be being tortured right now while you're worried about your fucking holiday plans.
" Silence on the other end for a moment. Then he spoke, his tone careful.
"Ryder, I understand you're upset, but-"
"No, you don't understand," I said, my voice rising.
"You can't possibly understand what this feels like.
But let me help you try. If I don't get those camera feeds in the next hour, I'm going to come down to that sad little apartment of yours.
You know, the one on Blackstone Avenue? Third floor, unit 3C?
And I'm going to show you exactly what happens to people who don't deliver when I need them to. " More silence, then a shaky exhale.
"Jesus, Ryder. Are you threatening me?"
"I'm fucking promising you," I said, my voice deadly calm now despite the storm raging inside me. "One hour. Or I'll make sure this is the last Christmas you ever celebrate."
I ended the call before he could respond, tossing the phone onto my desk.
The burst of rage left me as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to push back the burning sensation that might have been tears if I had any left to shed.
When I looked back at the screens, the footage was still playing.
Cade still walking. The van still appearing.
Her body still going limp as they struck her.
An endless loop of the moment my world ended.
My phone rang again, and I snatched it up, expecting my contact calling back with excuses or apologies.
But the screen displayed a different name: Luce.
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button.
I hadn't spoken to my cousin in days, not since she'd last visited Covenant House and found me.
.. not myself. The memory of her face, shocked, frightened by what I'd become, flashed through my mind.
But I couldn't ignore her. Not today. Not when she was with my father.
"Yeah?" I answered, my voice rough from disuse.
"Ryder?" Luce's voice was small, choked with emotion. She'd been crying; I could tell immediately. "Are you... how are you?"
"Fine," I lied automatically. "What's wrong? Has he done anything?" My father, Aaron Purcell. The thought of him laying a hand on Luce sent a fresh surge of rage through me. Enough that I may have even left my room long enough to stab the bastard through his cold, dead heart.
"No, no, nothing like that," she assured me quickly. "He's just... he wants you to come to dinner. He says it's not proper for you to be absent, that it 'sends the wrong message.'"
Of course. Appearances. The only thing that mattered to Aaron Purcell.
"Tell him to go fuck himself," I said flatly. "I'm not coming."
"Ryder, please," Luce's voice cracked. "I know you don't want to see him.
I don't blame you. But... I need you here.
It's awful without you here.. Everyone's pretending everything's normal, but it's not.
Nothing's normal. And I miss-" She broke off, a small sob escaping her.
"I miss Cade so much." The sound of Cade's name in Luce's voice hit me like a physical blow.
I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turned white.
"I can't," I said, my own voice dangerously close to breaking. "I can't sit there and eat turkey and pretend to be cheerful and merry while she's gone."
"I know," Luce whispered. "I feel the same way. But I'm scared, Ryder. I'm scared for her. For you. For all of us. It feels like everything's falling apart, and I don't know how to hold it together anymore." I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat.
"I can’t rest, Luce," I said finally. "Not until Cade's home. If she can't have Christmas, I don't see why anyone else should." Silence stretched between us, filled with all the things we couldn't say, the grief we couldn't fully express.
"Do you think..." Luce began, then stopped. "Do you think we'll find her?" The question I'd been avoiding, the one that haunted me every waking moment. Did I think we'd find her? After five weeks of nothing? After every lead had gone cold, every trail had disappeared?
"Yes," I lied, because I couldn't bear to say the truth out loud. "We're going to find her, Luce. I promise. I'm doing everything I can. I won't stop until she's home." Another sob, muffled like she'd pressed her hand over her mouth.
"I believe you," she said, though I wasn't sure she did. "Just... take care of yourself, okay? Cade would want that." Cade would want. The words twisted in my chest like a knife. As if she was already gone, as if we were already speaking of her in the past tense.
"I have to go," I said abruptly. "Tell my father I'm busy. Tell him whatever you want. Just don't expect me there."
"Okay," Luce said softly. "I love you, Ryder. Merry Christmas." I ended the call without returning the sentiment. Merry Christmas. The phrase was obscene, a mockery of everything we'd lost.
I turned back to the screens, but the footage had blurred before my eyes, the familiar shapes distorting into meaningless patterns of light and dark.
I blinked hard, trying to focus, but exhaustion and emotion conspired against me.
Instead of Cade being dragged into the van, I saw her tied to a chair, bruised and bleeding, screaming for help that never came.
I saw her locked in a dark room, huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant hair matted and dull.
I saw her being touched by strange hands, violated in ways that made my stomach heave.
I saw her body dumped like trash, abandoned and forgotten.