Chapter Four
Cal shoved his phone back into his pocket and hurried back into the kitchen with Sheriff Raines. “There’s a security problem at her brother’s facility. Alena and I have to go.”
“Go,” Raines was quick to say. “I’ve got deputies on the way here. We’ll manage.”
Cal hated walking out, leaving the sheriff alone with Arneson and Kara, but Raines could defend himself. David couldn’t.
Alena was still on the phone, the speaker carrying Thomas Greer’s voice into the room. “There’s no immediate threat to David. We’ve got him and the other residents secured in a safe room.”
Cal listened hard for any tremor in the man’s tone, but Greer sounded steady, professional. He believed him. Still, belief didn’t ease the knot in his gut. He and Alena wouldn’t breathe easier until they laid eyes on David themselves.
He met Alena’s gaze, and without a word they moved for the door, and then into the SUV, where Cal immediately got on the road.
Alena’s voice stayed calm on the phone even though Cal could hear the strain in it. “We’re on the way, Thomas. Hold tight.” She ended the call and slid the phone into her lap.
Cal pressed harder on the gas, the SUV eating up miles of highway. Cedar Ridge Sanctuary sat more than thirty minutes away on the outskirts of San Antonio, and every second felt like a weight on his chest.
He gave his hands-free the voice command to call Noah. The system chimed, connected, and Noah picked up right away.
“I’ve heard what’s going on at Cedar Ridge, and I already got two operatives in place,” Noah said right away. “They stopped an attempted break-in by a delivery driver. From what I know, the guy showed up earlier with a package for one of the residents. For David.”
Cal’s grip tightened on the wheel until his knuckles burned.
“No delivery was scheduled, so Greer didn’t let him in,” Noah went on. “About a half hour later the guy tried to force his way through the back entrance. He fired a few shots and escaped.”
“Was it Dexter?” Cal demanded.
“I’m not sure,” Noah admitted. “We have the security feed, and at first glance it didn’t look like him, but he could’ve been wearing a disguise.”
A hot surge of anger burned through Cal, so sharp it made his vision blur for a moment. David was supposed to be safe, guarded, and cared for. Instead, bullets had come close to him.
“If it wasn’t Dexter,” Cal said, forcing the words past his clenched jaw, “then it’s someone helping him.”
The thought dug in deep. Dexter had already put Melissa in danger. Now he was reaching for David, too.
“Every security measure is being taken,” Noah spelled out. “David and the other residents are safe.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Cal shot back. “We’re going.” He drew a breath, forcing his grip to ease on the wheel. “We found Arneson tied up and beaten. Could’ve been Dexter, but it’s just as possible Arneson staged it himself.”
Alena leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “And Kara Whitfield showed up right after,” she added. “She’s been visiting Dexter in prison, and she swears he’s in love with her. We need someone to run her deep, Noah. If she’s helping him, we need to know.”
“I’ll get on it,” Noah said without hesitation. “And I’ll check with Raines, see how he’s handling Arneson.”
“Good,” Cal said. “Keep us updated.”
“Stay sharp,” Noah told them.
The line clicked off, and Cal pushed the SUV faster. The highway stretched long and flat, the distance to Cedar Ridge feeling like it would never end. Every mile dragged like an eternity.
Cal kept his eyes locked on the stretch of highway, the SUV pushing hard through the heat shimmer.
Beside him, Alena sat rigid, silent, and he knew she was worried.
He didn’t reach for her though, didn’t speak comfort.
That wasn’t possible right now. They just had to get to Cedar Ridge and figure out what the hell was going on.
Once David was safe, they could turn their full focus on finding Melissa and Dexter.
Cal’s phone chimed with an incoming text from Noah. He tapped the screen and an image filled the display: a grainy shot of the delivery man who’d fired the shot.
Cal studied it, his gut knotting tighter. “Hard to tell,” he muttered. “Could be Dexter. Could be someone else.” His knuckles whitened on the wheel. “If it is him, then who’s holding Melissa?”
The silence that followed felt heavier than the road beneath them.
“Maybe he’s keeping her close,” Alena suggested. “Somewhere near Cedar Ridge.” Her fingers flew over her phone. “I’m texting Noah. He needs to check every building and residence in the area.”
Within seconds, Noah’s reply came back, and Alena relayed it to him. “On it. I’ll update as soon as I know more.”
Cal pushed the SUV faster, the tension in his chest refusing to ease.
The drive felt endless, but at last the stone markers of Cedar Ridge came into view. The facility sat tucked deep into the Texas Hill Country, rolling limestone ridges and clusters of oak wrapping around the property like a shield.
This wasn’t anything like a standard nursing home. The creator of Crossfire Ops, Owen Striker, had built it with a different vision, a sanctuary for wounded warriors with resources most hospitals could only dream about.
The buildings blended with the land, all pale stone and broad porches that looked like they belonged in the landscape. Pathways curved through manicured grounds, and beyond them were open stretches of wild grass and cedar. Everything about it spoke of peace and strength, a place designed to heal.
Cal lowered his window at the gatehouse and flashed his Crossfire Ops ID. Alena did the same. The guard checked, nodded, and lifted the barrier. The SUV eased inside, winding up the drive toward the main buildings.
The moment Cal parked, both he and Alena were out, doors slamming behind them. The heat hit hard, the air heavy with sun, but neither slowed their pace.
David was inside. That was all that mattered.
Cal and Alena broke into a run across the front walk. The glass doors slid open as someone familiar stepped out to greet them. Jackson Ward, one of Crossfire’s most experienced operatives.
“David’s in one of the safe rooms,” Jackson immediately informed them.
Cal gave a sharp nod. He’d been here dozens of times and knew exactly where those rooms were. They were built into the heart of the facility, more like fortified panic rooms than anything else.
He and Alena hurried down the main corridor, shoes pounding on polished stone.
The air carried the faint scent of cedar from the beams that stretched high overhead.
Light streamed in from wide windows, spilling across artwork and quiet seating areas, but Cal barely registered any of it.
The place had been designed to soothe and restore, yet today it felt like a fortress under siege.
They cut through a broad atrium where indoor gardens thrived under skylights, then turned into a narrower hallway. Cal recognized the wing that led to the safe rooms.
Thomas Greer stepped out from a side corridor, his security badge clipped to his chest, shoulders squared. “He’s fine,” Greer said at once, voice steady. “David’s inside with the others.”
“Anyone hurt in the shooting?” Cal asked.
“No,” Greer replied. “But I locked down the place in case the man tried to come back.”
“Thank you,” Cal said.
Greer gave a short nod and keyed open the reinforced door. The lock disengaged with a solid click, and he swung it wide.
The safe room was larger than Cal remembered, its walls lined with reinforced panels and ventilation discreetly built into the ceiling. Four patients were inside, two in wheelchairs and another on a gurney, each watched over by two nurses who moved quietly among them.
David sat in a wheelchair near the far wall, his posture as straight as he could manage.
Relief spread through Cal’s chest at the sight of him.
His sandy blond hair caught the overhead light, the scars on his head still visible where it had been shaved years ago for the surgeries.
His left arm lay slack across his lap, unmoving, a constant reminder of what the bullet had stolen.
Despite that, his smile was steady, and his eyes lit up when he saw them.
Cal’s gaze lingered on him, noting the subtle twitch in his fingers and remembering the seizures that sometimes came without warning. Every one of them had left David weaker, but never without that same unshaken warmth.
One of the nurses stepped to the side and opened a smaller adjoining door. Inside was a private space outfitted with a bed and a bank of gaming equipment, clearly meant to keep a patient comfortable if the stay stretched long.
They had planned for everything here, even this.
David wheeled himself forward with a wide grin, his good arm reaching first for Alena, then for Cal. He hugged them with a warmth that cut straight through Cal’s defenses. There was always something childlike in David now, an innocence left behind after the damage to his brain.
Cal slipped his hand into Alena’s, the old habit sliding into place. To David, they were still the couple they had once been, and Cal would keep that illusion alive for him.
David leaned back in his chair, studying them with puzzlement. “Why do you both look so anxious?” His voice was clear, touched with curiosity. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “Is Alena finally pregnant?”
The words hit like a blow. Cal’s chest tightened as brutal memories rushed in.
The hospital’s sterile walls. Alena pale and broken in the bed.
The endless days of pain he could do nothing to ease.
David fighting his own battles down the hall, surgeries and seizures stealing pieces of him he would never get back.
Dexter’s bullet had ripped into both of them that night.
For David, the damage that left him in this chair, his left side nearly useless.
For Alena, wounds deep inside that no one could see.
The hysterectomy had taken what they had dreamed of together, the child they had planned for.
It had been the last straw, the crack that split their marriage wide open.
Cal tightened his grip on Alena’s hand, not sure if he was steadying her or himself.
They shared a glance before answering together, voices low. “No, David,” Alena said gently. “There isn’t a baby.”
Cal added, “But we’re okay.”
David considered them for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay.” Just like that, he let it go and shifted, as he often did, to the next thought. “Somebody fired shots. What happened?”
Cal crouched a little, lowering his voice. “There was some trouble, but the police have it under control. We just need you to stay inside for a while.”
David’s eyes widened, but he nodded quickly.
“I can do that.” He glanced at the private room the nurse had opened, his smile returning.
“I think I’ll play one of my games. I’ve got the controller that works without this hand.
” He lifted his left arm, limp at his side, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can still win.”
Some of the tension drained from Cal’s chest. David might not remember everything, but he understood enough. For now, that was all Cal needed.
A soft knock came at the door before one of the nurses stepped inside. “Lunch will be here soon,” she said with a polite smile. “Will you both be staying?”
Alena shook her head. “We can’t. We’ve got to go.”
Cal leaned closer to David. “We’ll be back soon.”
David was already absorbed in his game, his good hand quick on the modified controller. “Okay,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen. “Win for me, Cal.”
It was something David said often, and Cal forced a smile. “Always.” He touched David’s shoulder, then followed Alena out.
The door shut softly behind them, and Alena paused in the hallway. She braced a hand on the wall, her breath uneven. “I’ll never forgive Dexter for what he did to my brother,” she muttered.
Cal’s chest tightened. “Neither will I,” he said. But he knew it wasn’t just David’s injuries haunting her. There was another wound, deeper and quieter, the loss of the baby they would never have. Dexter had stolen that too. He had robbed them of more than either of them could ever get back.
Cal and Alena walked out through the front doors, the air outside bright and sharp against the tension coiled in his chest. They crossed to the SUV without a word, each of them still carrying the weight of the visit.
He had barely closed his door when his phone lit up. Isla’s name filled the screen. Cal answered and put her on speaker.
“I’ve got nothing on the call from Melissa,” Isla said, her voice tight with frustration.
“No trace, no digital breadcrumbs. Whoever set that up knew what they were doing. But I’ve been pulling together camera feeds, piecing what I can from traffic cams and private security systems. I found the car Dexter stole during his escape. ”
Alena leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Where?”
“Outside Kerrville,” Isla replied. “I tracked him through a patchwork of dash cams. He ditched the car off a county road. From there, he’s on foot or he got another vehicle. I’m still digging.”
Cal gripped the wheel, his pulse quickening. “That’s more than we had. Good work. FYI, he’s likely in his brother’s truck so you can check for that, too.”
“All right, thanks. Will do.” There was a pause on the line, then Isla’s tone shifted. “I found something else.” She hesitated, and the faint sound of keys clicking came through. “I’m sending it to you now.”
Cal glanced at Alena. The look in her eyes mirrored his own. Whatever Isla had uncovered, it didn’t sound good.
The feed loaded on Cal’s phone, the screen flickering before settling on a grainy image. He tilted it so Alena could see, both of them leaning close. A man in a hoodie walked through the frame, shoulders hunched, face hidden.
The view shifted as the figure passed another trail cam. This time, the image sharpened enough to see his face. Dexter.
Cal’s gut clenched. There was no Melissa beside him.
Dexter stopped directly beneath the lens. He pulled back a long hanging branch, revealing the sign that marked Alena’s neighborhood. Then, with deliberate slowness, he smiled, dragged his hand across his throat, and mouthed the words: dead meat.
Alena’s breath caught. “Isla… when was this?”
“About fifteen minutes ago,” Isla said, her voice clipped. “The police are on their way now.”
Cal’s grip tightened on the phone until his knuckles whitened. The game had shifted. Dexter wasn’t just running. He was coming for them.