21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Torn allegiance
Keir
T his can’t be happening.
“Honey, hey…hey.” I catch up to her as she runs at full speed past a property marker toward the creek north of us. “Eden.” My voice is restricted by the tears I can’t stop.
I left the house this morning after telling Weston I’d take him to his karate class tonight. “Really? Promise?” His fierce hug is followed by, “Can I give one of Mommy’s flowers to my teacher? She was sad yesterday.” His face lights up when I tell him he can before he skips off to pluck a white daisy.
It’s normal that Weston would want to include others, be kind, giving, do thoughtful things…
As Eden slips further away calling for Weston, I bend over letting a roar of frustration and devastation loose. I know the statistics. If he isn’t found within two hours…
The urge to vomit is so overwhelming, I almost buckle. My experience in child trafficking only fuels my terror over what my son could be going through. We need to find him. My god, we have to find him. I straighten back up, pushing past the alarm. Faster than I’ve run in my life, I tear through the high grass toward the creek. “Eden?! Wes?! Weston?!”
Dissociating…I know I’m starting to because I’m shutting down emotionally. I’m moving through swaying grass that reaches my knees. My arms pump as I call out for Eden and Weston. I stop feet from the creek, the rocky edge more exposed due to the near drought conditions we’ve had for the last two months. The running water and the swish of the tree branches are the only sounds as I spin in a circle, hoping to catch sight of Eden.
This isn’t happening…It’s a dream. It’s not real.
Not real.
I hear distant voices calling out to Weston, a chorus of desperation. A numb, surreal feeling starts taking over. I see Eden’s footprints heading east along the muddied creek bed of the receded waters. “Eden!? Please stop, honey!” Don’t stop…don’t stop looking.
I finally catch up to her where the creek jags northeast. There is a fallen tree that makes crossing the creek necessary to continue. She’s down on her knees sobbing. “Oh, baby.” I fall to my knees next to her, pulling her into my arms. “We’ll find him, we’ll find him.”
But what if we don’t?
The world shrinks to a pinprick.
It’s us, clinging to each other for dear life.
“My sweet boy…my baby boy,” she cries out through sobs. “Someone has him, Keir. He’s gone…”
I don’t respond, too choked with tears.
This isn’t real…it’s not real. Wake up, wake the fuck up.
Suddenly, Matt is steps away, a tormented look on his face. He swoops down, wrapping his strong arms around us both and burying his face in Eden’s hair. “This shouldn’t have happened…” He’s damn right it shouldn’t have. But this feels coordinated…the trees down, the cameras off…maybe even Wes missing his bus. We just don’t know yet.
Could this be the copycat killer? Is it the person threatening Eden? A person retaliating against Matt, Hutton, or me? Or is it all unrelated?
I clutch one of Matt’s forearms, and we share a look over Eden’s head. My normally unflappable, steady force of a husband looks…lost.
Matt talks us into going back to the house. There is a search party out, and Hutton is going through all the camera feeds for any hint of suspicious activity. We can be of more help there. Each step going back causes me to shut down, going numb piece by piece.
I never understood when a veteran agent would discuss the fatal flaw of making cases personal. I do now. All those cases we’ve worked undercover, behind the scenes setting up takedowns where children were being abused. I made them personal. It was revenge on evil people like the cult leader of XIX who used people for profit. Greedy, soulless motherfuckers who get off on controlling and breaking children.
But in doing so, I relied on disconnecting emotionally. My default reaction is coming into play now. I’m in a fog.
I miss most of Matt’s words to Eden, his arm still wrapped around her waist while we walk back. “...call them. Kathy will keep them with her. I have agents at their home. I don’t think we should tell them exactly what’s going on yet.”
“What? What do you mean?” I shake my head. The encroaching fog is not clearing. I need to get a grip.
“Kathy and Roger will pick the girls and Zach up, and they already have Warner and Zeb. I asked them not to say anything about Weston. If they ask where he is, they’re going to say he is busy. Just…that he’s busy.”
Eden’s mouth drops open, and I stop walking. “No.” Shaking my head I continue, “No, absolutely not. No.”
Eden sucks in a breath before she says, “They should know. We can’t lie to them.”
Matt turns to us. “I don’t want to scare them. We’ll tell them…just not yet.”
His need to protect people by withholding information is a dangerous trait. I’m not fond of it, and it’s bitten him in the ass before. “No. We tell them, all of us together, after school. Before they hear it from a classmate or the news.”
Eden’s crying again, a shaky arm wrapping around my waist as her head leans back against my chest. “I agree,” she says firmly. “No lying.”
I don’t even need to poll the other three adults in our family. Matt will lose.
Eden pauses near the gate to the animal enclosure, tears falling and her arms folding over her middle. “Matt, Keir.” Her voice is trembling. “Look.”
She bends down to pick up a piece of paper stuck in the mechanism. Her gasp causes us both to close in quickly. Matt takes it from her hand, showing me what’s written. It’s a white piece of standard paper with writing in block print: “One down. We will cleanse the Earth of you. Remember, we’re dying to meet you.” The last of the true Realists.
Matt takes the paper by the corner edge, careful not to contaminate the evidence further. A slew of curse words unfurl from him. I’m dumbstruck.
There’s no mistaking what’s happened now.
They’ve claimed responsibility.
The Realists…the cult we’d determined died out in the years since Number One was killed. They’ve rallied. They’ve come after Eden and her offspring.
Great, gulping sobs overtake Eden as she sinks to the ground. My reactions feel stymied by my inability to put it all together. As I’m reaching her, Matt already has her cradled in his arms, the note pinched between his fingers and is stalking back to the house. “Get Harrison and Bristow.” He looks back at me. “We have a problem. Someone in the search party is a part of this.”
“I will. But not before I get someone on Waverly and Warner.” We’re already searching for one child; there is not a chance in hell I’m risking them, too.