Chapter 33
Brooks
E veryone needs to leave me the fuck alone.
I don’t want to eat.
I don’t need to shower.
I don’t need to sleep.
What I need is for them to find my daughter.
I’m ready to explode. If one more person asks how I’m doing, they might get a fist to the nose. How the hell do they think I’m doing? I’m in hell, and there’s no way out until Presley is home.
Addison’s face flashes in my mind—disappointment, questioning—when she asked where Gracyn went. I told her she had left. Of course, she knew why. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Her eyes said it all.
Gracyn was distracting.
Every moment with her came with guilt trailing close behind, curling up beside me at night and sinking its claws into my chest. Those moments of peace I found with her tore me apart later. Dreams of Presley screaming for me, her little voice calling out in fear, while I was making love to Gracyn, burned into my subconscious. They left me waking up in a cold sweat, hating myself. Hating her.
Then I’d throw up.
That’s my life at the moment. Irrational thoughts and nightmares.
I’m not allowed outside anymore. Yesterday, I made the mistake of stepping out of the building and talking to the press. The news and media swarmed, hungry for information. So, I stood there, facing a sea of cameras, and begged. Pleaded with Judith to bring her home.
And then someone shouted, “It’s been six days. Do you think she’s still alive?”
His words hit me like a freight train. He was too close, and my control snapped. At least I only have to pay for a new video recorder and not worry about charges for attempted murder. That guy was lucky Aiden was within reach of stopping me.
Today is Monday. Dance night.
I go to Presley’s room, as much as it pains me to see it empty, and pull out a black leotard with pink tights and stuff them in her dance bag, the ritual as familiar as breathing. Her ballet slippers lie tossed in a corner. I grab those, too.
Then sit on her unmade bed, clutching the bag like it’s the last piece of her I have left.
I can smell her. If I close my eyes, her laugh echoes in my head, high energy and full of joy. A ghost of a smile flickers on my face, but it doesn’t last. The ache is too strong.
I fall back against the tiny bed, the mattress creaking underneath me. My arms curl tighter around the bag. Tears slip out of my closed eyes.
Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.
“Brooks, we got something,” Max says from the doorway.
I’m on my feet before he can say another word. That’s the first I’ve heard those words in seven days. Optimistic words .
“We’ve been helping the FBI sort through all the tips,” Max says, walking with me to the kitchen.
My heart lurches at the possibility of another false lead. People mean well, but calling in every time they see a blond six-year-old doesn’t help.
“This one is worth looking into,” he adds, reading my apprehension. “A woman called in. She says she saw a woman with a child at a gas station. She swears the woman called her Presley and then quickly corrected herself and called her Annie. We pulled the security footage from the station.”
I’m right on his heels, hope filling my chest. My pulse thunders in my ears as I crowd behind Stone, staring over his shoulder at the computer screen.
“It’s her,” Stone says.
He points to the image so clear it almost steals the breath from my lungs. Presley. My baby girl. She’s holding hands with Judith, exiting the store. My knees weaken as my eyes lock onto her. Her blond hair is gone. That bitch dyed it brown and hacked it short.
I can’t breathe. A relieved sob escapes my lips as I stare at the frozen screenshot.
“When was this?” I choke out.
“Yesterday.” Max places a firm hand on my shoulder. “We found her, brother. Now, let’s bring her home.”
The words hit with a shot of adrenaline, enough to keep me standing when my legs threaten to give out. Max squeezes my shoulder once before moving to make some phone calls.
With the make, model, and license plate of the car, Stone does what he does best. Scanning through security footage, hacking into databases, piecing together fragments of a trail like a master craftsman.
“We’ve got her,” Stone mutters, pulling up a new image on the screen. It’s grainy, but clear enough. A car stopped at a red light. Two women sit in the front seats, Judith driving, but I’ve never seen the other one.
By early afternoon, Stone has tracked their path since they left the gas station. His focus is unshakable. I haven’t left his side all day as he pulls up footage after footage.
“She’s headed for Canada,” he says.
Canada.
With every clip of her vehicle Stone pulls up, my nerves fray a little further. The idea of her crossing the border, disappearing into another country, never to be seen again, tightens in my chest. Another irrational thought. I have to push the thought that I’m this close to losing her forever out of my head. The FBI has already contacted the Canadian authorities, and the Mounties are watching for their car.
Max and Kase, another one of Max’s guys, start packing their bags. The sound of zippers and shuffling gear fills the room.
“I’m going,” I snap.
They both stop and look up, apprehension written across their features. Max steps toward me, and I already know he’s going to stop me.
“I don’t care what the fuck you’re about to say. I’m going.”
“I can’t let you go.”
“The hell you can’t.”
Max doesn’t have to abide by the FBI rules. He doesn’t have to play by their handbook. He can do whatever he wants. And that includes letting me go.
“I won’t get in the way. I just want to be there for Presley when you get her. She’ll be scared as hell when everyone rushes in with guns drawn.” When he doesn’t look like he’s going to change his mind, I try begging. “Please?”
Max sighs and looks over to Kase, who stands silent but contemplative. After a moment, he gives a slight nod. “We’ve all been there,” he says.
He’s right. Every single one of these guys has stepped into the fire to save their woman at some point, and none of them stayed behind. It is even more crucial that I’m there because she’s a child. My child. She needs me.
Max turns to me, his jaw tight but his resolve cracking. “Get your things. But you’re staying in the vehicle until we have Presley safe.”
I nod, jogging to my room to toss a few things in a bag.
When I come out, Max stands there, arms crossed, scrutinizing me like a hawk. “You better not have grabbed a gun,” he warns with narrowed eyes.
I hold up a small, pink stuffed dog and shake my head. I’ve been sleeping with the damn thing every night because it smells like Presley. Her favorite stuffed animal. One that she misses probably as much as she misses me. When I found it under her bed, I couldn’t believe Judith didn’t take it with her. What a heartless bitch.
The plane’s engine roars to life as we board, the hum vibrating underneath my feet. There’s no time to settle in before the aircraft is already taxiing. Aiden and another agent met us on the tarmac, both of them looking tense and worn as the rest of us.
While in the air, I take a corner seat in the rear of the plane, trying to keep out of the way. My ears tune in as the team lays out the game plan, their voices sharp and focused. I soak in every word, making mental notes. Just in case they need my help.
The flight is quick. Too short for me to process anything but my nerves and anger. When the wheels touch down, I’m vibrating with restless energy. I can feel it. I’m steps away from rescuing my daughter.
Local FBI agents are there to pick us up. As we speed through the streets of Theresa, New York, Stone’s updates the filled car. He and the local FBI identified where Judith’s been staying—in a dingy, run-down motel on the outskirts of town.
It’s the kind of place that reeks of desperation and shadows. It’s a known haven for prostitutes, drug dealers, and worse. Imagining my daughter sleeping on a bed in a place like that sends my anger spiraling into an inferno. It’s another way for Judith to get her revenge. Twist the knife.
As if I had anything to do with her sister’s death.
She’s looking for revenge.
I clench my fists as the car pulls to a stop in front of a small satellite office. My orders are clear—stay put while the rest of the team moves in. Theresa, New York. A speck on the map, a city I’d never heard of, but right now, it feels like the most important place in the world.
A couple of agents work at a desk, ignoring me as I pace the length of the cramped room. Every ring of the phone sends my heart into overdrive wondering if it’s news, good or bad. The anticipation makes it impossible for me to stay still.
I think of all the things I’ll never do again, like getting frustrated with Presley for taking too long to get ready or snapping at her for talking when I’m on a work call during the weekend.
But most of all, I’ll never, ever leave her again.
The phone rings again, and I freeze. I hold my breath as the officer answers, his eyes flickering to mine before he listens. He nods, then says, “Got it.” A tick of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he adds, “I’ll tell him.”
He smiled.
Smiled .
He hangs up, and I wait for confirmation. Wait for the words that will put me together again. He stands up and nods. “She’s safe. They got her.”
I stare at him, the words not yet solidified. “Say it again,” I murmur out of desperation.
He nods again, taking a step toward me. “She’s safe, Brooks.”
My heart explodes with relief as my knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, tears blurring my vision. My chest is tight with the force of all of it, the overwhelming surge of emotion.
“She’s safe,” I repeat through broken breaths, still working through the process that’s it’s true.
The officer kneels beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” I whisper, not able to form any other words.
“They’re on their way,” he says, standing back up and giving me space, allowing the moment to settle. A part of me won’t accept it until I see her with my own eyes.
I push myself up from the floor and walk over to my bag, my hands shaking as I pull out Presley’s stuffed animal. The officer stands at the door. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I tap my heart, a silent gesture of gratitude before walking outside.
“Daddy!” Presley screams out of the SUV window, waving her arms wildly.
Her smile is so bright it almost knocks the wind out of me. It’s been one week since I’ve heard her voice, but it seems like a lifetime. I sprint to the car as the car door opens. She pops out and flies into my arms. I scoop her up, burying my face in her neck. Her giggle bursts in my ear like a song I thought I’d forgotten.
“Snarky. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” she says, pulling back. She tilts her head from side to side. “Do you like my new hair?” She turns her head to show off the short, uneven cut.
I hate it. I force a smile and nod. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s part of our trip. Judith said that while we were on vacation, we should pretend to be someone else. So, I’m Annie.” She says it like it’s the most fun thing in the world, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It was hard sometimes to remember our pretend names. But then Uncle Aiden showed up at the hotel room and said I had to go home. Did something happen?”
She thinks she was on a vacation.
She doesn’t know Judith kidnapped her.
How am I going to explain to my little girl that the woman she loves so much just caused me gut-wrenching pain and that she’ll never see her again? I glance up at Aiden and Max, confused.
“Hey, Pres,” Aiden says, crouching down to her level. “Can you go into the office with me and tell me all about your trip? I saw some cookies in there.”
Her eyes light up. “Cookies?”
“Yep.” He nods. “I want you to tell me about all the fun things you did. I bet you had some pretty cool adventures.”
She takes a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks as she lets it out dramatically. “There’s a lot of stuff. I’ll try to remember.”
I squeeze her hand one last time before Aiden leads her into the building. I can’t take my eyes off her. She disappears behind the door, and the weight of everything Judith did crashes down on me.
I run a hand over my face. “She thinks they were on a fucking trip.”
Max steps closer, his typically unreadable expression in place. “Judith didn’t cause a scene. When she saw it was us, she let Aiden take her without saying anything. Janie Jackson was the other woman with her. Of course, Judith denied saying her mom ever died.”
It’s not like I thought she’d be forthcoming now . She’s lied the entire time she’s been in our life. My shoulders fall, and he puts his hand on one, squeezing.
“It’s the best outcome. There’ll be a few bumps in the road, but you have your daughter. That’s all that matters. It’s over.”
My body shakes from adrenaline as I nod. Max pulls me in for a hug, his grip strong and steady, anchoring me as my emotions overwhelm me.
“Take a second,” he says quietly. “Then go get your baby girl.” He walks into the building.
I bend at the knees, crouched low as I squeeze the bridge of my nose, willing the tears to stop. She can’t see me like this. She’ll know something is wrong.
I blow out a ragged breath and look up at the sky. “Thank you,” I whisper.
For the first time in seven days, I can breathe. I stand tall and swallow the lump of relief in my throat, pull the stuffy from my back pocket, and head toward the door.
Let’s go home, Snarky.