Chapter 9
Dylan
“If I could swim, this place might feel like paradise.” It was a code. Emma’s trying to tell me something about where she is. “She’s near an ocean,” I tell my mom as I set the phone onto the counter.
“An ocean. That could mean practically anywhere,” my dad replies, frustrated. “How do we even begin to narrow it down?”
“Tucker’s working on a trace,” I tell them. “I called him right after you called me. He hacked into the call.”
“Of course he did,” Dad replies proudly. “Then he should have a lock on her, right?”
“Maybe.”
“She’s okay,” my mother says. “That’s what matters, right?”
“She’s in an undisclosed location with a man who kidnapped her.
Blood relatives or not, that’s a far cry from okay.
” After withdrawing my cell phone, I snap a picture of the caller ID readout, then set the phone back onto the receiver.
“I need to get over to Tucker and see if he has a location yet. Call me if she calls again.”
“We will,” my dad assures me.
As I try to walk past my mom, she reaches out and touches my arm. The contact is sudden, as is the jolt of panic that shoots through me. If I know a hug is coming, I can be prepared for it, but the random touches always push me closer to the edge.
Still, she’s my mom, so I try to take a deep breath and turn toward her, resisting the urge to pull away.
“Honey, she’s okay.”
Is she? “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know she called.” I step away now and make my way toward the front door, Delta on my heels.
The sun is already beginning its descent, though sundown is still hours away.
Every minute that passes without me knowing her location is another minute that she could end up hurt.
Who is this guy who drugged her? Is he really her brother? Then why the drugs? I’m betting the phone call was a proof of life for us. That way, we’ll think she’s okay and stop looking for her.
It won’t work.
The only way I’ll stop looking for Emma is if I’m buried six feet deep in the cold, hard ground.
I hop into my UTV while Delta jumps into the back. As soon as he’s lying down, I take off toward Tucker’s house. His wife, Alice, is sitting on the porch, a book in her hand. When I pull up and shut off the engine, she glances up and smiles at me.
“Hey, Dylan. How are you?” Her smile fades just a bit when she sees my expression.
“Fine.”
When I first met the woman who would marry my twin, I didn’t trust her. She’d been accused of murder, and all the evidence pointed toward her. But once we’d proven her innocence, she became one of the few people I’m comfortable enough around to really let my guard down.
Most of the time.
“You’re not, but we don’t have to talk about it,” Alice says. “Tucker is inside. In his office.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiles softly, then returns her attention to her book as I make my way inside. Delta runs off toward Tango, who jumps up when he sees his brother. As the two of them start wrestling, I withdraw my cell phone from my pocket and step into Tucker’s office.
In true Tucker fashion, he doesn’t even notice that I’m here—something that’s not at all surprising. When Tucker is in front of a computer, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I tell him all the time that he might as well be part computer for how thoroughly he ‘plugs in.’
“You got a location?”
He glances over at me. “Huh? Oh, no. Not yet.”
“How is that possible? You couldn’t trace it?”
“It wasn’t made over a cellular network. Whoever let her make that call didn’t want us to be able to find her.”
I hand him my phone with the photo of the caller ID on the screen. “This is the number. Can you track it using this?”
“Already got it from the call,” he says, tapping his computer. “So far, no luck. I’m sorry, Dylan, I’m trying.”
“I know you are.” But it’s not enough. It won’t be until she’s safely back in Pine Creek.
“She sounded okay. Calm, considering.”
“The man that came onto the call right as I was going into Mom’s, did you hear what he said?”
Tucker shakes his head. “Not at first. I came on right as you were threatening him. Nice move, by the way.”
I let the slight roll off my back. Should I have threatened him? Probably not. It’s better to keep everyone involved in captive situations calm—that way, no one makes any rash moves. “He said he was her birth father.”
“Whoa.” Tucker shakes his head. “What is going on?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out.”
“I texted Gibson and let him know you were talking to her and I was trying to get a trace. He’s waiting to hear from us.”
In my desperate need to get here and have Tucker trace the number, I hadn’t even thought to call up the sheriff. So, I do that now.
“Tucker get a lock on her?” he asks after answering on the first ring. Likely because he was staring at his phone, waiting for a call. Emma is family to everyone here, and everyone wants her home.
“No. They’re bouncing it all over the place via Wi-Fi. Or something like that. Tucker can give you the specifics. She did try to give me a hint, though. Said that if she could swim, the place she’s being held would be paradise.”
“Tropical locations, then?”
“That would be a good place to start. Have you looked into flight records?”
“Yes. One private plane left yesterday, but it was a fake flight log. I’m still trying to find out where it really went.”
“Okay. She did say she’s not in Texas. Or, at least, she didn’t think she was.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I imagine he’s likely writing down what I’m telling him. “Anything else?”
“A man came on the phone as well, claiming to be her birth father. He said that his son got overzealous in his desire to have his sister home.”
“The drugs.”
“No normal person drugs someone—overzealous or not.”
“I agree. I’ve been trying to get my hands on her adoption records, so I’ll apply some more pressure now that we have confirmation she’s with them.”
“Thanks. Tucker is still trying to trace the number, but I’ll text it to you too so you have it.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Yeah.” After ending the call, I fire off a text to Gibson with the image I took of my mom’s caller ID, then shove my phone back into my pocket.
Tucker’s still heavily focused on the screen before him. Even though I have no idea what he’s doing to track down the number, the furrowed line of his brow is enough evidence that he’s not finding what he wants.
And then—“Okay, I’ve got it narrowed down to the Northwest Hemisphere.”
“That’s the closest you can get?”
“That’s it. I’m sorry, brother. If we can get her on the phone again, then maybe I can narrow it down further.”
I withdraw my phone and type in the number.
But it comes back disconnected.
“They shut it down.”
“Of course they did.” Tucker groans.
“There’s nothing else you can do?”
“’Fraid not, brother. But I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Gibson said he’s trying to get his hands on Emma’s adoption records.”
“Adoption records!” Tucker snaps. “Why didn’t I think about that before?”
“Think about what?” Alice asks as she breezes into the office and comes to stand behind Tucker. She rests both hands on his shoulders and leans in. “Adoption records?”
“Emma was adopted,” I explain. “Gibson is having trouble getting through the red tape to get his hands on the information.”
“Ah, hence the whole hacking into confidential servers. Got it.” Alice kisses Tucker on top of his head, and he casts a quick grin over his shoulder. Right before his gaze drops to her stomach.
It’s brief.
A tiny blip of a moment, but the small smile on his face screams the underlying secret.
“You’re pregnant.”
Alice pales. “What?”
“Dude,” Tucker says, a wide grin spreading over his face.
“How did you know?” Alice demands, then smacks Tucker gently on the back of the shoulder. “You said we could tell him together!”
“He didn’t tell me.” Even with as thrilled as I am, a pain spreads through my chest. Pain that I won’t ever get to experience that type of love. The excitement that surely comes when you bring another human being into the world. “I could tell.”
“How?” Alice asks.
“You were drinking tea on the porch instead of coffee, and Tucker briefly glanced at your stomach just now.”
Alice narrows her gaze and crosses her arms. “Okay, Sherlock. First of all, you didn’t get close enough to my cup to see what was in it.”
“There was no coffee scent in the air when I came in.”
“Coffee scent?” Tucker laughs. “You need a hobby.”
That proverbial knife that’s been lodged in my chest for over a decade twists as I try to shove aside all of my feelings and focus only on the fact that I’m happy for my twin and his wife. “So when are you due?”
“The end of April,” she replies. “We only just found out yesterday.” Alice reaches into her back pocket and withdraws her cell, then shows it to me.
On the screen is a black and white sonogram photograph.
The baby is little more than a blurred shape, but it brings a wave of emotion over me regardless.
“A baby.” I smile. “Tucker is barely responsible enough for himself.”
Alice laughs. “That’s why he has me.”
“Who else knows?”
“Just you,” Tucker replies. “We were planning on telling everyone together, but then—” His expression falters.
“Emma,” I say, knowing that he wouldn’t want to deliver news like this amidst something as serious as a kidnapping.
“Emma,” he repeats. “I’m sorry, brother.”
“For what?” I hand Alice back her phone. “I’m happy for you both. Truly. I think a baby is great.”
“Thank you.” Alice smiles, then steps toward me but hesitates.
I know what she’s looking for, and I wish I could give it to her, but even something as simple as a hug might just push me right over the edge of the cliff I’m currently standing on. So I remain where I am and do my best to ignore the slight disappointment on her face.
“Uh, will you let me know if you get anything? I need to go burn off some of this steam before I pop.”
“Sure thing, brother. Go.”
“Thanks. And congratulations, you guys.”
“Thank you.” Alice steps back toward Tucker, so after forcing another smile, I turn toward the door and head out of their house. Even though the air is fresher here than anywhere I’ve been, there might as well be no oxygen.
A baby.
I’d wanted to be a dad.
Emma and I talked about having kids after we got married.
And then— I leave my UTV where it is and just start running. Delta races beside me as we crest the hill and take off toward the nearest pasture. My boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, my jeans slick to my skin within minutes, thanks to the sweat forming along my skin.
But I keep pushing.
Change happens during moments of discomfort. So maybe, if I’m lucky, I can exhaust myself so much that I’ll become the version of me I could have been if the world hadn’t detonated around me.