24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
Caleb
“H eavenly Father, please protect him.” Closing the door, I lean my head against it. Praying with everything in me, I continue, “Keep him safe from harm. Please, God.” My rough whisper cracks.
This is my fault. He was looking for me.
I found him outside talking to Petunia through the fence, reminding him he needed to get his backpack. Then he could check on the kennels with me later. He tried to negotiate, wanting to visit the kennels immediately. Instead, I conceded that if he got his school bag, he could come get me in the barn, where I would be getting feed for the animals, and give a couple sugar cubes to the horses.
Then, my phone rang. Becca called to ask if I might be able to stop at the church before work because she needed some help. I wandered away from the barn as we spoke, feeling embarrassed in part that I felt I needed to hide the conversation from Eden.
But it wasn’t wrong that I gave her my number, was it?
Becca asked if I could look inside my truck to find a folder she’d accidentally set on my seat while we were talking after the study. She needed numbers from a receipt. I spent almost fifteen minutes running to get the keys from the barn office, then into the garage to my truck, where the folder was on the floor of my passenger side. I couldn’t find the specific receipt. I told her she must not have it in there.
She insisted. After I’d spent minutes going through the pile, she suddenly remembered it was for a different store.
I wasted far too much time doing that.
The same period of time Wes disappeared in.
I’m too ashamed to I was on the phone with someone I don’t know well. A woman.
Even if my intentions aren’t impure, I’m starting to gather hers might be.
Or she’s just someone looking for a friend, and I’m letting all the paranoia around us affect that.
The kids are here with their great grandparents. Kathy is full of theories about what is happening, while Roger is full of as much anger as Hutton.
Waverly clings to Blaine’s side, and Zinnea won’t leave Zach or Zeb alone. Eden won’t put Warner down. Denial. I’m in denial over Weston’s disappearance. But his absence is loud, his energy gone like water thrown over a flame. Zachariah has been crying as he carries around Roscoe, Wes’s teddy bear.
My heart is broken.
I return from the bathroom to sit with Eden. She’s holding Warner to her chest, but he’s wiggling to get free. “Angel…” Without another word, I take him from her, releasing him to waddle after the dog.
Eden stays silent, grabbing my hand. We watch all the activity around us. The blaring television airs the news, and Matt, wild-eyed, mutes it to keep the kids from hearing it. But Waverly already caught it. Her bawling makes the hurt in my heart amplify. “Is he dead? My brother isn’t dead, is he?” she asks her great grandmother. Waves is curled into her side, her hand holding Blaine’s.
Matt kneels in front of her. “Sweetheart, we’ll find him. Okay? I don’t want you to think like that. We’ve got a lot of very smart and determined people looking for him.”
The only person fitting that description in my book is Hutton. Thank the good Lord, he left quietly earlier, texting me, Eden, and Blaine, he was following up on a lead and not to tell Matt, Keir, or the other law enforcement. They’d only get in the way.
I can’t sit still. Following Warner around while taking a sleeping Zeb from Kathy, I keep moving. The moment I take my attention from their needs, reality hits. We’re missing a child. Weston isn’t here. We have no idea where he is, with whom, or what’s being done to him.
So, I move. I make food no one wants (but Warner decorates the kitchen floor with). I put Lego bricks together with Zach. I ask Waverly to show me the video from her dance recital. I discuss baseball with Roger.
It’s not until I find Keir crying in Wes’s room that I sit back down. Hugging him one-armed against me, I say, “What if …The boys keep talking about ninjas in the woods. Do you think we’ve had someone in the woods watching us? That they saw something?”
Keir’s head jerks to me. “I need to talk to Zach.” With purpose, he stands up, sliding his hand across the embroidered pillowcase cover and karate uniform hanging from his bed post. “I don’t know why none of us ever questioned it before now, but their imaginations are so vivid. I just...” He inhales to clear his throat. “You might be onto something.”
I keep hoping for direction from God, but I remind myself it’s hard to hear God’s voice when I’ve already decided what I want Him to say.