Chapter Thirty-Three
“Mornin’, Boss.”
“Good morning.”
“Hey.”
Reese followed Brantley and Tesha inside the barn, Brantley rattling off polite responses to those who were greeting them.
After leaving JJ’s, Reese’s mind had been running nonstop in an attempt to figure out how to find Kylie. Ever since that brief conversation with Allison, he was filled with a sense of urgency. Something in her tone had triggered it, and it wasn’t lessening as the day progressed.
His conversation with his brother hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.
Rather than telling him that they’d identified someone based on the DNA, Z had informed him they were having difficulty with the sample they’d provided.
He claimed he had someone doing another test to see if they could get any identifying markers, but that could take time.
They didn’t have time.
He couldn’t help but put himself in Kylie’s shoes, trying to imagine what the past two years had been like for her. He had some experience with being held against his will, confined with only his basic needs being met. He hoped like hell that wasn’t what Kylie was going through.
And yes, he’d taken a page from Brantley’s book and was now jumping on the Kylie-is-alive bandwagon with both feet.
He knew it was premature, but he couldn’t help himself.
And definitely not after seeing Travis that morning.
The man had done a complete turnaround from the last time he’d seen him.
It was possible he actually smiled a time or two over breakfast.
How could Reese not believe?
He only hoped they weren’t in for a huge disappointment. Losing her once had been painful. Twice would be … unthinkable.
“What’s everyone workin’ on?” Brantley asked.
Reese looked from one face to the next. Evan, Becs, Atticus, Archer, Jay, Charlie, Holly, Elana, and Darius.
They were all there, all sitting at their desks, laptops in front of them.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come in there, and they’d all been diligently working.
Usually, at least two people were making casual small talk.
Not today.
It was as though they knew the clock was running out.
Was it? That was the question Reese couldn’t answer. If Kylie was alive and Martin Calloway was keeping her somewhere, what were his plans for her? He had a reason, clearly. Was he looking to punish Max or Travis for Juliet’s death? Or was there something bigger at play?
“JJ was able to get me into the traffic cameras in Blanco,” Holly answered. “It’s a long shot, but I thought I could see what’s goin’ on down there. I mean, I doubt Kylie’s walkin’ around, but you never know.”
Based on the chains and cuffs they’d found in that house, Reese had a pretty good idea how she was spending her time, and it wasn’t window shopping in a small town.
“I’m working with Austin Trexler on getting a drone for the area,” Charlie announced.
“I’m getting more info on the list of Censorious members that Simon put together,” Jay said.
“How many so far?” Reese inquired.
“Ninety-three.” Jay sighed. “And that’s just the big dogs. We haven’t even gotten to the soldiers yet.”
Reese had a feeling that list was going to get much, much longer.
“I’m tracing Meredith’s steps after she left Coyote Ridge,” Becs stated. “We think she’s hidin’ something, but we don’t know what. Thought maybe this would help.”
“It won’t,” Brantley told her. “I appreciate the effort, but Meredith’s actions are the least of my worries. I think she’s simply a pawn in this game. She might’ve been important to Calloway at one time, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore.”
Becs turned to face him. “Is there somethin’ you’d like me to focus on?”
“Allison Bogart,” he answered.
“I’ve got some information compiled,” Charlie told Becs.
“I’m mostly interested in her recent activity,” Brantley added. “Where has she been for the past six months?”
“We’ve got some details,” Charlie said.
“Get more. Dig deeper.”
“I can definitely do that,” Becs said, her expression reflecting the same trepidation Reese was feeling.
Evan cleared his throat. “I’m gonna focus on—”
His words were cut off when Reese’s cell phone rang. He wasn’t sure why the entire room went silent, but it did. He pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. When he looked up, he noticed Brantley watching him intently.
“It’s Z,” he said because it seemed they were all waiting for him. He tapped the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Hey.”
“Well, I’ve got news.”
Reese couldn’t tell by his brother’s tone whether that news was good or bad. “And?”
“The lab was able to make an identification.”
Grinding his teeth was all Reese could do to keep from demanding his brother get on with it.
“The blood you found belongs to Kylie Walker.”
Reese’s breath lodged in his throat, his gaze snapping to Brantley’s. He nodded.
“Were they able to determine how old the sample was?” he asked Z.
“The only thing they could tell me was that it was less than a year old. They couldn’t pinpoint more than that. It does confirm your theory that her death was faked.”
Yes. Yes, it did.
“Thanks, Z. I need to…” Reese wasn’t sure what he needed to do. At the moment, breathing seemed to be his main focus.
“Go tell her husbands. They’ll want to know,” Z said. “I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah.” Reese ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket.
He glanced at the members of his team, noticing the hope that sparkled in nearly every pair of eyes staring back at him.
“They confirmed the blood belongs to Kylie. It’s less than a year old.”
“She’s alive?” Holly asked, her voice thick with emotion.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Brantley interjected.
“We do know she didn’t die when we thought she did.
And we’ll continue to work under the assumption she’s alive.
Which means right now, our one and only objective is to find her.
Once we do that, we can worry about Martin Calloway and Censorious.
We’ll take them down, I assure you. But they go on the back burner. Everyone’s focus is on findin’ Kylie.”
“Understood,” Atticus said. “We’ll work on gettin’ that drone, then we’ll get boots on the ground in Blanco and Johnson City.”
Brantley nodded. “Good. In the meantime, Reese and I are gonna give Travis and Gage the news.”
Reese wasn’t sure that was a great idea. At least not until they had confirmation that she was still alive. But he understood Brantley’s reasoning. Travis and Gage deserved to have all the information they had.
“Come on, Tesha,” Reese said. “Let’s go for a ride.”
She was at the door waiting for them when Reese made his way across the room. He felt as though he was walking through a dream. He had a destination, even if the path to get there was fuzzy and distorted.
“You good?” Brantley whispered as he pushed the door open.
Reese nodded. He wasn’t sure that was true, but it was all he could offer.
Archer sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen.
He was antsy, restless. The thought of sitting behind a desk while a woman was being kept prisoner out there … somewhere… It didn’t matter that he didn’t know where to look. He only knew that sitting there wasn’t getting him the answers he wanted.
“You good?” Atticus asked from beside him.
As he’d done all morning, Archer avoided looking at his partner. Every time he did, he thought about that kiss. The one that had rocked him to the soles of his boots. He knew there was nothing he could do about it, but that didn’t stop his brain from hitting replay on that memory every few minutes.
“Jesus,” he grumbled, shoving to his feet. “I need some air.”
While everyone else worked to find Kylie, Archer headed outside. He pushed through the door and out into the humid morning. The chill had since dissipated, replaced by warming temperatures and an annoying stickiness to the air.
Still, it was better than sitting in the barn, listening to Atticus breathe.
When he heard footsteps on dry leaves, he turned in time to see Slade walking from the parking area.
“Hey,” he greeted, attempting to be polite.
Slade grunted, ignoring him.
“Well, that went well,” Archer muttered when Slade disappeared into the barn.
Rather than follow his instincts and go back to the barn to see what had brought Slade in, Archer paced. It wasn’t his business. Didn’t matter if Slade was there to work or if he’d come to talk to Atticus. It didn’t matter.
Because temptation was too great, Archer resisted the pull to go back in by heading toward the parking lot.
The farther he got, the better off he would be.
He took that to heart, following the path of the driveway to the road.
When he reached the road, he turned around, came back.
He had no idea how many times he’d repeated the back and forth when he stepped aside so Slade’s truck could pass.
Only it didn’t.
“You better treat him right,” Slade said, his tone rife with warning.
Archer met his gaze. “What?”
“You heard me. He’s a good guy.”
Feeling defensive, Archer said, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
“I’m not here to fight with you.” Slade looked at the road. “I just came by to get somethin’. I know you two have a thing.”
“A thing?” Archer fisted his hands at his sides. “He’s my partner.”
“Yeah. That’s what he says, too. Don’t worry. You’re not the first partners here to hook up. Fucking isn’t a crime.”
“You’re delusional, you know that?”
“No. You’re in denial. But don’t worry. I have no plans to get in your way.”
Archer opened his mouth, but then closed it. This was pointless. Slade wasn’t going to believe anything he had to say because the man was already convinced the world was out to get him. He was too blind to see a good thing when he had it, so it was his own fucking fault that he’d lost Atticus.
“Treat him right,” Slade called as he drove off.
Shaking his head, Archer started back down the driveway. As he was reaching the house, he looked up to see Atticus watching him, his green eyes intent, boring a hole right through him.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothin’ important.” It was the truth.
He turned on his heel, gearing up to make a trek in the other direction. Before he could, Atticus grabbed his arm.
“Stop, dammit.”
He did, but he didn’t look at Atticus. He couldn’t.
“I’m sorry if he said somethin’ to piss you off.”
Archer pulled his arm from Atticus’s grip. “He didn’t.”
“No? Then why’re you stompin’ around out here?”
There was so much accusation in Atticus’s tone, Archer couldn’t help but respond to it. He turned, this time staring down at Atticus, pinning him in place with a stern glare.
“You wanna know what my problem is?”
Atticus frowned, but he didn’t step back even as Archer moved closer. “Yeah. Enlighten me.”
“You are,” he said, his voice low.
He took another step forward, and this time Atticus stepped back. Archer took another and another until they were hidden from view of the barn.
“I’m your problem? Why?”
“Because you fucking kissed me,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You fucking kissed me, Atticus, and it’s all I can fucking think about.”
He’d never been one to use curse words to punctuate his sentences, but it seemed he was more upset than he’d thought.
Sighing heavily, he looked up, relaxing his neck, forcing himself to calm down. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Look at me,” Atticus insisted.
He kept his head tipped back. “I can’t.”
“Archer.”
Jesus. He should not like the way Atticus said his name. He shouldn’t.
“Please.”
And fuck if he didn’t like that, too.
When he was able to stop grinding his teeth, he brought his head to level and looked at Atticus again.
“I can’t stop thinkin’ about it either,” Atticus said, his green eyes glittering. “But we can’t.”
Archer wanted to argue, but he had no defense. Atticus was right. As partners, they owed it to one another to refrain.
“I can’t help myself,” he admitted. “I fantasize about…” Archer let the sentence hang, knowing it was wrong to go down that road.
“What?” Atticus whispered, his eyes imploring.
“It doesn’t matter,” he huffed.
Atticus grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer. “Tell me.”
Archer held his stare, leaning in until Atticus was pinned between him and the house. God, this was so fucking wrong, but he couldn’t stop it.
“I fantasize about stripping you, then running my tongue over every inch of your body.”
Atticus shuddered.
“But I’m not lookin’ for a one-and-done deal, Atticus. And you’ve already said partners are off limits.”
Atticus nodded. “I did say that.”
“And you meant it.”
Atticus’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. Archer expected him to agree, but he didn’t. When he didn’t say anything at all, Archer forced himself to move back, to eliminate the temptation.
He started back down the driveway, needing to put distance between them so he could focus on the case. They had definitive proof that Kylie Walker’s death had been staged. Now it was a matter of determining whether she was still alive. And if she was, finding her and bringing her home.
Until that happened, he had no business fantasizing about anything. Least of all his fucking partner.