Chapter 53
Chapter
Fifty-Three
“Don’t call me that,” Zander barked.
Nora didn’t back down. “You are Zander Dalton.”
“I was Zander Dalton.” His voice carried through the damp woods. “That boy doesn’t exist anymore.”
“He does to your family.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “You don’t know anything about my family.”
“I know they never stopped looking for you.”
“And look how much good it did them.”
Beyond the creek, an engine started.
Nora glanced through the trees. Dawn had strengthened while they drove to the farmhouse, spreading a washed-out gray light through the woods.
Twenty yards behind Cross, a narrow wooden footbridge spanned the swollen creek.
On the opposite bank, parking lights glowed through the fog, revealing a dark SUV waiting on a rutted road.
Someone sat behind the wheel.
Cross hadn’t done this alone.
From that position, the driver had a clear view of Harris’s drawn weapon. Whoever sat behind the wheel already knew the transfer had failed.
Cross began backing toward the footbridge, pulling Preston with him. The boy stumbled, his shoes sliding in the mud, but Cross kept him pinned against his chest.
Imposter Christian followed without being told, his shoulders rigid and his gaze fixed on the ground.
Deputy Harris moved parallel to them, using the trees for cover while keeping his weapon trained on Cross. “The tactical team is approaching from the farmhouse. You’re out of time, Cross.”
Cross’s gaze darted toward the woods behind him. He had to know Harris was telling the truth. The shepherd might already be tracking them, and the swollen creek left the footbridge as the only direct route to the waiting vehicle.
Yet the gun in his hand remained steady.
Nora kept her hands visible as she took a cautious step forward. “Christian, come to me.”
She hated using her brother’s name for him, but it was the only name she had. More importantly, it was the name he would recognize.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“You don’t have to go with him.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Whatever he told you, whatever he made you believe, you can walk away.”
Cross gave a humorless laugh. “You don’t even know his name.”
The words found the wound Nora had been trying not to feel. This boy had lived in her home, eaten at her family’s table and let them believe their prayers had been answered. Yet she didn’t know the first thing about who he really was.
Then she remembered the folder Glen Dalton had shown them.
Seven missing boys. Possibly eight.
What if one of them stood in front of her now?
Maybe this boy hadn’t been planted in her family. Maybe he had been taken, conditioned and stripped of his identity just as Zander had been.
Maybe he had run to the Lovelesses because Christian had told him where to go.
“No,” Nora said. “I don’t know his name. But I know he drew this place. He wanted us to find him.”
Christian’s expression shifted. The emptiness cracked, and something frightened and painfully young surfaced in his eyes. His gaze dropped to Preston before returning to Nora.
“You were taken too, weren’t you?” she asked softly.
For one heartbeat, his face gave her an answer.
Cross swung the gun toward him. “Move.”
Preston whimpered and tried to pull away. Cross jerked him tighter, lifting the boy partly off his feet.
Christian flinched and stepped closer to the footbridge.
“Don’t listen to him,” Nora said. “Whatever they made you do, you don’t have to obey them now.”
Cross backed onto the first weathered plank. Water surged beneath the narrow footbridge, swollen from the rain and rushing hard enough to swallow every other sound.
The vehicle across the creek shifted into Reverse. Its tires spun in the mud before catching, and it began retreating along the road.
Cross twisted to look over his shoulder. His boot slipped on the wet plank before he caught himself.
Harris used the distraction to advance to the next tree, cutting the distance between them without leaving cover. His weapon remained trained on the portion of Cross’s body not shielded by Preston.
“It’s over, Zander. Set the gun on the ground, release the boy, and step away.”
Cross looked from the departing vehicle to Harris then to Christian.
His breathing quickened. His grip tightened around Preston, and his gaze jerked between the surrounding trees as if searching for an escape route that no longer existed.
Then he raised the gun.
Not toward Harris.
Toward Nora.
Harris’s shout reached Austin before he saw the creek.
“Nora, get down!”
The warning cut through the rush of water and the shepherd barking somewhere behind him. Austin plunged through the wet undergrowth with Prine and Nash close behind, branches snapping against his jacket.
Then the trees opened.
Cross stood at the near end of a narrow footbridge with one arm locked around Preston. His other hand held a gun aimed directly at Nora.
She stood several yards in front of the gray SUV, caught in the open with no cover close enough to reach.
Austin raised his weapon. “Cross!”
Cross turned his head.
The distraction lasted less than a second, but Harris used it to move between Nora and the bridge. He kept his own gun trained on Cross while shielding her with his body.
Austin took cover behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. “Put it down.”
Cross shifted Preston more securely against him then motioned toward Christian with the gun. “In front of me.”
Christian obeyed.
He stepped between Cross and the officers, placing himself directly in their line of fire. Preston remained trapped against Cross’s chest, his small hands gripping the sleeve across his body.
“Take the shot,” Cross called. “See who you hit first.”
Austin adjusted his aim, searching for a clear angle.
There wasn’t one.
Cross might be new to Luke’s department, but he knew exactly how to use two hostages to eliminate every safe shot.
Christian stood motionless in front of him. His arms hung at his sides, and he stared past Austin as if the voices around him came from somewhere far away.
The bruising on his face looked fresh. Mud covered his clothes, and blood darkened one sleeve near the elbow. Whatever control Cross held over him hadn’t come without force.
Nash slipped into the trees downstream while Luke and two deputies spread out upstream. Prine remained near Austin, using a broad oak for cover.
Within seconds, officers had closed off the clearing.
Cross saw them repositioning. His arm tightened around Preston, and his gaze darted toward the opposite bank.
Beyond the footbridge, the dark vehicle continued backing down the rutted road. Its tires threw mud as it gained speed and disappeared behind the trees.
Whoever waited across the creek had decided Cross was no longer worth saving.