Chapter 43
Jett
Astring of curses leaves my lips as I storm down the alley.
The streetlights cast shadows that have me second-guessing everything I see.
I called Mark to fill him in on what’s going on since he skipped the festival this year.
And to say the man was pissed would be an understatement.
He’s driving around the area, looking for his daughter, refusing to wait for the police.
I can’t say I blame him. I’m itching to go search for my girl.
Levi clamps a hand on my shoulder, the movement causing me to square up.
“We’ll find her.” His voice leaves no room for doubt.
Pulling out my phone, I dial the last number that called me. “She’s gone.”
Blackwood curses on the other end of the line. “Any witnesses?”
“I don’t know. I can’t find her.”
The sound of fingers over keys fills the phone. “I’m checking camera footage, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
From behind me, I hear Levi on the phone with Davis.
He’s filling him in, but I can’t wait for law enforcement.
I left her alone, and now she’s gone. I knew we should’ve stayed home.
I only blame myself for allowing a day of fun when I was aware of the threat.
Alcohol clouds judgment, and today it blinded me.
I ignored my intuition. My training. And look where it got me.
“Riggsby!” Blackwood, my Army buddy, shouts, pulling my attention to the present.
“I can’t lose her,” I say through heaving breaths. Panic floods my vision with dark edges.
“You’re not going to,” he assures me. “Breathe, Riggs.”
I do as I’m told, even though the blood coursing in my veins is ready to wage war. If I’m going to find Wren, I’ve got to keep a calm head.
“Give me a few, and I’ll get back with you.”
Within minutes, the alley is surrounded by law enforcement. Blue lights flash, mixing with the night sky as crime scene techs observe the surrounding area.
“Jett.” Greer’s voice shakes from outside the taped-off section.
Stepping closer to her, I notice the tears streaking her cheek. “Is it true? Is she gone?”
I can only nod.
“She said she was going to the bathroom. I offered to come, but she told me she’d be fine.”
“Not your fault,” I assure her, even though I want to yell at her. To ask her what she was thinking. “I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Davis steps beside me. He gives Greer’s forearm a gentle squeeze, silently soothing her.
“We’ve got someone going through The Spillway’s surveillance video. Roads are blocked for the fireworks. That helps narrow down their direction. What else can you give me?”
I grit my teeth so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to crack my molars.
“He’s in an older model RV camper van, California plates, registered to an assistant at his firm.”
Davis eyes me skeptically. “And how would you know?”
“Does it fucking matter? Find Wren.”
Davis’s gaze locks on mine, and I can see him waging an inner battle of how far he wants to push this. He knows I have connections; anyone in the military who knows the right people has connections far greater than any small-town department.
“Stop keeping shit from me and let us do our job.”
“Then find her.”
Davis steps forward. “Do I need to arrest you for interfering in police business?”
I point my finger in my friend’s chest. “If that's what it takes to find her, because I will stop at nothing until Wren Drummond is in my arms, safe.”
Both of our chests heave, but this fight is wasting time. We both want to find Wren, and I refuse to be sidelined over a technicality.
“Where the fuck is my sister?” a deep voice echoes off the buildings.
All heads, including mine, turn in the direction of Nate Drummond as he strides deeper into the alley dressed in his sheriff deputy uniform.
“Why the hell am I finding out over my goddamn radio that my sister is missing?” he asks, voice dangerously controlled as if he’s going to snap in seconds. “And you two dipshits are standing here arguing.”
I raise my hand, trying to break the tension, but the glare Nate casts my way is sharp enough to cut the words off.
“We’re searching surveillance,” Davis supplies.
“Why weren’t you with her?” Nate snaps.
The guilt slams into me harder than if he had punched me. “I needed to take a call.”
“And it was more important than my sister’s safety?”
“It was about her safety,” I shout, patience wearing down to its final thread.
Nate watches me, reading my expression and searching for something. He must find whatever it is he’s looking for because his jaw tightens.
“We’ve got blood,” an officer shouts from farther down the alley.
My heart lurches as the three of us start jogging across the asphalt.
“Stay back, Riggsby,” Davis demands, grabbing my arm.
I jerk out of his hold, but stay at the edge of the alley, where officers and crime scene techs gather. Even from here, I can see the puddle of blood reflecting in the light.
My phone vibrates, and my hand digs it out on instinct.
TB
Found her.
TB
The Willow has a camera pointing toward Main Street. Exact make and model of the camper van was headed north five minutes ago.
My vision blurs as I read the text again.
I was five minutes too late.
I glance back to where they’re evaluating the blood, but find Nate watching me.
“What is it?”
I jerk my head, motioning for him to come closer, and when he does, I show him the text.
“Dammit, Riggsby,” Davis grumbles, pushing closer to us. “I told you to stop interfering.”
“He’s done more than you and your team have,” Nate defends, pointing my phone toward Davis.
His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline as he glances up at me.
“I told you…”
“I don’t care what you told me; there’s your confirmation we were right.” I clench my jaw. “Either cuff me, or get the hell out of my way. Because I’m not standing here while she’s out there with him.”
Davis reaches for his cuffs.
“Fuck this.” Nate steps forward. “You ride with me and stay in the car.”
Davis starts to argue, something about protocol, but Nate cuts him off again. “We don’t have time for a pissing match. Let’s go save my sister.”
Without waiting for permission, I start jogging in the opposite direction—the way Nate arrived. I hear Davis barking out orders as Nate makes a call over his radio. Sounds like they’re bringing in the cavalry. I don’t care who they call as long as they bring my girl home…safely.
The SUV lights flash as I near. Jerking open the door, I’m hit with a wave of coffee, beef jerky, and…ass.
“Jesus, Nate.” I chastise, scrunching my nose at the stench of his car.
He ignores me as the engine roars to life. Flicking on his lights and siren, we tear out of the parking lot, kicking up loose gravel.
Nate drives us down a side street, avoiding the Main Street chaos. The fireworks have ended, but Silo Bay PD is keeping the roads blocked off until we get through.
The radio crackles with codes and orders.
“Tell them to wait for my order,” Nate says over the radio about the neighboring town driving south to meet the van. “We’re only a few minutes out.”
Once we’re around the blockades, he maneuvers us back onto the main drag, escalating his speed. If Elias continues north, it won’t take us long to catch up, especially if he doesn’t think we’re on his tail.
I only hope she isn’t hurt.
From what I could see, the puddle of blood didn’t look too substantial. Nothing to indicate a stab wound or anything more severe.
For all we know, Wren could’ve attacked first and caused him to bleed. It’s what I have to believe. My girl is a fighter. A warrior. She’s been through hell and back; there’s no way she's going with him willingly.
“I take it things between you and Wren are serious?” Nate asks, eyes fixed on the road.
“It’s always been her, Nate,” I tell him honestly.
He exhales slowly. “Don’t fuck it up again. She’s finally home.”
His comment guts me.
I stare out the windshield, glancing down every side road we pass. My muscles are wired tight. “I won’t lose her again.”
I refuse.
This doesn’t get to be how our story ends.
Not like this.
Nate taps the steering wheel. “Let’s get our girl.”
The radio crackling draws my attention as the dispatcher relays the location.
We’re within a few miles. My fingers twitch in anticipation as I throw up a silent prayer, begging for her safety.
I’ve been trying to give her time and space to adjust to being back in Silo Bay and to us, but after this…
I’m not wasting any more time. Wren’s been mine since we were kids, and it’s time I make things official.
I’ve had a ring for her since high school; I was ready to make her mine then, before shit hit the fan.
Once we started airing out our issues and starting over, I traded in the old ring for something new.
The old one felt tainted, and I’m not bringing any bad juju–or whatever–into this new life.
“We get out of this, I’m going to propose.”
“’Bout damn time.”
The SUV goes around a curve, and in the distance, the taillights of a camper van glow.
I’m coming for you, Whiskey.