CHAPTER SIX
BOGEYMAN GONE
“Your mom is okay,” one of the cops, Officer Mike, said, sitting down on the bench next to me.
“What?” I gasped, turning to look into his serious gaze.
He smiled kindly. “Your mom, Noah. She's okay.”
Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks before I could stop it from happening. “Oh my God,” I cried out, burrowing my hands in the scratchy blanket and lifting them to cover my face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He patted my shoulder gently. “Can I get you something, kiddo? Some hot cocoa or water maybe?”
The cops had given me a bunch of cups of water since I’d arrived.
It must've been two hours ago now, but I wasn't sure.
Time was passing strangely here. Every second felt like a whole day, every minute felt like a year, but somehow, time was also flying, and it was hard to believe that, just a few hours ago, Soldier had broken the window in my bedroom and dropped me out into a torrential downpour.
He saved me.
Did someone save him?
“Is Soldier okay?” I asked, realizing Officer Mike hadn't said anything about him.
“Ah …” He cleared his throat and did a funny thing with his lips, like he was trying to smile, but didn't want to.
“We … we're not sure yet, kiddo. We're still waiting on the updates. But good news: Officer Kinney is gonna be bringing you to your mom soon. So, you just sit tight. How about that hot cocoa?”
I swallowed and managed to nod, but I didn't want hot cocoa. I wasn’t even sure I wanted my mom, although I'd be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to see her.
What I wanted was Soldier.
With the scratchy blanket, I wiped my face as Officer Mike stood up and walked toward the little table where they kept coffee and tea and water and some other stuff. There was a box of doughnuts, too, and on another day, maybe I would've been interested in having one, but not tonight.
I hung my head, imagining Soldier's face. Remembering when I’d first met him, when he’d taught me to fight, when we had gone fishing, the birthday party he’d wanted me to have, and all the other memories we'd created over the last several months since Mom and I had met him … and I started to cry again.
Because I knew.
I knew he wasn't okay.
He had saved Mom and me, but he hadn't saved himself, and, oh my God, my chest hurt so much at the thought of never seeing him again.
“Hey.”
A gentle voice surrounded me like a warm hug, and I slowly looked up to see the prettiest face I'd ever seen in my whole life.
Curly blonde hair and soft blue eyes. Her lips were rosy, and her cheeks were pink, and she looked like she belonged on TV or in one of the clothing catalogs Mom got in the mail. But she was here instead, wearing a plain yellow T-shirt and jeans and white sneakers.
I swallowed against my tears and said in a small voice, “Hi.”
“Are you Noah?” she asked, and in an instant, I realized who she was.
Meg.
The woman from the 911 call.
She was here.
And she looked like an angel.
I nodded. “Y-yeah. Are you Meg?” I asked, just to be certain, even though I already knew.
I'd know her voice anywhere.
I was going to remember it for the rest of my life.
“I am,” she said with a smile, then gestured at the seat beside me. “Would you mind if I sat here?”
I shook my head. I didn't mind at all.
She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands against her knees. She was acting the way Mom did sometimes when she wanted to talk to me about something but didn't know how, and it was making me feel weird.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I work here,” she replied with a smile. “I answer 911 calls. That's how I talked to you.”
“No, I-I know,” I said, feeling dumb. “But I thought … I don't know … maybe there was a whole other building or something for 911.”
She sniffled a little laugh, but I didn't feel like she was laughing at me. “I thought the same thing when I was a kid. But, no, there's a room here where we answer the 911 calls.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“I, um … I actually just got off the phone with my dad. You know him, I think. His name is Officer Patrick Kinney.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, nodding. “Yeah! My friend Jay … his dad's a cop, and Officer Kinney is his partner.”
“Right,” she said with a nod, her smile barely fading. “So, my dad … he's with your mom. He’s going to be here soon to take you to her. But I wanted to tell you … Soldier … he was hurt. Very badly.”
My lips fell open with a gasp, but I was also grateful that she’d told me. I wondered if Officer Mike had known, but just didn’t want to say anything.
I swallowed. “I was too slow,” I whispered, only to keep my tears at bay.
I didn’t want to cry again. I was so tired of crying.
Meg shook her head, her curls bouncing against her shoulders. “No. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“Is … is he dead?”
She seemed to hesitate, as if she didn't know how to respond, but then, again, she shook her head, and I closed my eyes, even more grateful than before.
“But he's very, very hurt, and he's not out of the woods, which means—”
“I know what that means,” I interrupted. “You mean he could die.”
She faltered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
I sniffled and dipped my chin to hang my head. “He saved us,” I told her, my voice warbled with impending emotion. “He got me out of the house, and he promised Mom would be okay. He kept it. He kept his promise.”
“He did,” she agreed. “Your mom wasn't hurt at all.”
Then my brow furrowed, and I lifted my head to look at her, a question nagging at my mind that hadn't been asked yet. “What about my dad?”
“Your dad,” she repeated, looking into my eyes.
Hers were the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen. Like the sky on a warm, lazy July day without a cloud in sight.
“Yeah.”
“Seth, right? You said his name was Seth.”
My head bobbed with another nod, and somehow, I already knew what she was going to say, but I wanted to hear it. I needed to hear her say the words.
“He's gone, Noah,” Meg said, never taking her stare from mine.
The breath in my lungs was forced out with a gasp as my lips fell open.
“You never have to be afraid of him again.”
And for the first time that night, I found it in me to be truly, unabashedly … happy. Because I knew then that, even if Soldier didn't make it—and, God, I hoped, hoped, hoped he did—I had kept my promise to Mom.
I had saved her, and I had done that by finding someone who could. And he had done it. And for that, I would be grateful to him forever.