Chapter 67 – Charlie
CHARLIE
Opening the boot, Dad pulls out a large, locked case from the tyre well and inputs the code before turning to me. “You first.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I don’t bother trying.
Stepping forward, I run my hand over the edge of the case and look inside at items I haven’t seen in years. Not since they walked each of us kids through how to defend ourselves, including using this equipment and weapons when we were late teenagers.
I grab one of the Kevlar vests and pull it on. Dad helps, adjusting the straps and checking to make sure the fit is right, that it isn’t too tight or loose on me. Satisfied, he gives me a final nod and turns to the twins to do the same for them.
While they do that, I grab one of the handguns next, feeling its familiar weight. I quickly release the magazine, checking to make sure its loaded and the safety is on before I grab a holster.
Once I’m ready, I look around at the others, finding Mitchell watching me. He gives me a final nod of approval before he gestures for Brayden to get back in the car.
I half expect the kid to argue, but he doesn’t. He climbs into the driver’s seat without fuss, his eyes going straight to my laptop sitting on the passenger seat with the camera feeds still up.
“Seatbelt.” Brayden and I both frown at Mitchell’s command. “Just in case, you want to be ready at a moment’s notice, right?”
“Right.” Brayden nods, pulling the belt around his torso and buckling himself in. He goes to grab the driver’s door, but Mitchell beats him to it, holding it open.
Looking over my shoulder, I eye the house behind me and swallow nervously. This is it. In a few minutes, we’re heading inside. Within a few hours, Bonnie and Jace will be home. Safe.
“What the hell?” Brayden’s exclamation has me spinning back around to face the car.
“I’m impressed.” Caleb peers over Mitchell’s shoulder into the car. “Do you always carry handcuffs on you?”
His question has me leaning down to peer through the window. Sure enough, Brayden’s right hand has a metal cuff around his wrist, locking him to the steering wheel.
“I told you I’d stay in the car!”
“And now I know you will,” Mitchell answers, shrugging a shoulder and shutting the door. “Lock it.” Brayden looks ready to argue, but after a few seconds his shoulders deflate, and the locks engage.
“Let’s go.” Mitchell rounds the car; walking passed me toward the house. The twins fall into step behind him, me and Ryan taking up the rear and I keep my eyes on our surroundings, looking for any signs of movement.
When we reach the house, we split up. Mitchell and Ryan break away, heading around the back to enter from the backdoor while the twins and I wait out of sight of any of the windows for them to get into position.
“Ready.”
Caleb pulls out his lockpicking kit, kneeling down in front of the door and gets to work. Seconds later, he’s opening the door, and I take a deep breath, adrenaline flooding my system as I cross the threshold.
We share a look, and I nod, heading to the left toward the loungeroom with Eli while Caleb goes right, heading for the kitchen.
My eyes quickly take in the empty room, and I lower my gun. “Loungeroom is clear,” I whisper into the microphone, my voice echoing through my earpiece, quickly followed by Caleb relaying the kitchen is also clear.
“Charlie!” Dad yells out, and I instinctively duck down hearing the gunshot, even with the suppressor. Looking up, I find him with his arms still raised and peer over my shoulder.
I barely have enough time to take in the dead body lying half in the bathroom with the gun still sitting loosely in his hand before I’m tugged back around to face Dad.
“Do not turn your back on a doorway,” he whisper shouts, his voice filled with the fear of watching someone come up behind me with a gun.
“Fuck, I-I-” I stammer, panting for breath as Dad relays that the loungeroom and downstairs bathroom were both now clear. When he’s done, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a quick hug and steps back.
Caleb walks into the loungeroom, giving me a look as though asking if I’m okay and I nod. Satisfied, he disappears back into his side of the house.
Swallowing, I turn my body so the wall is to my back, feeling beyond stupid for letting someone sneak up behind me like that.
Especially after I lectured Brayden earlier about putting himself and everyone else at risk.
Yet, here I am almost getting myself killed because I was too quick to assume no one was down here before I did a thorough search.
“The basement is empty.”
I look down at the guy on the ground, before my attention turns to the top of the empty stairwell. If the basement is empty, that means they’re all upstairs.
And Mitchell is up there alone. Against potentially three men also carrying weapons.
My eyes go back and forth between the dead body and upstairs. I shouldn’t. It’s not the plan. But neither was the basement being empty. They’ll be beyond pissed if I do it, but…I can’t leave him up there alone, outnumbered with four people to save.
Ryan steps into the room, shaking his head when his eyes briefly lock on mine, no doubt reading exactly where my mind is. He takes a step forward to stop me, but I’m already racing up the stairs.
“Charlie!” All three of them hiss out, forced to keep their voices low, but I don’t stop. Don’t look back. I just keep going, my eyes and gun trained above.
“Charlie is coming up.”
The door opposite the stairwell is still open and inside I can easily see the man sitting on the floor, his back to the bed behind him and his head tilted back showcasing the massive slash that stretches from one side of his throat to the other.
The wound is fresh enough that gravity still has blood oozing down his neck, his entire front covered in red.
The grotesque scene is…startling, to say the least. I wasn’t even aware Mitchell had a knife on him, I certainly didn’t see him grab one.
Swallowing down my revulsion, I pull myself together and climb the last couple of steps, quickly confirming the hallway is empty before I cross and go inside the room.
The dead body is telling enough that Mitchell has already cleared this room, but after what happened downstairs, I decide not to take any chances. A quick search confirms the room is empty and that three people are sleeping in this room.
I don’t linger inside though, and as I step out into the hallway, a figure exits the room Brayden told us belongs to Sammy. He freezes when he spots me, his eyes widening as they flick to the room next to the stairs, the one we believe is Johnathan’s.
When his focus returns to me, his eyes zero in on my gun that is trained on him, and he slowly raises both hands, swallowing nervously.
I hesitate.
I can’t see a single weapon on him.
Can I really shoot an unarmed man? Adam’s eyes flash behind my eyes and I have my answer. Lowering my weapon, the guy – who I now recognise as the driver – looks relieved.
I squeeze my finger around the trigger, my eyes not leaving his as the bullet sinks deep into his stomach. He stares at me in shock, letting out a pained grunt and crumbles to the floor, clutching his stomach.
The answer is yes; I can definitely shoot an unarmed man. A man who kidnapped the two people I love most in this world. I just don't need him dead.
We have two rooms left to search and the longer we go with no signs of Johnathan…
Another figure steps into the hallway, and I raise my gun spinning in that direction. Mitchell doesn’t flinch or even blink at having my gun trained on him and I quickly lower it.
His eyes drop to the still groaning man at my feet and he nods before turning to the right and heads to the last bedroom on his side of the hallway while I head for Sammy’s.
Opening the door, I spot Sammy straight away hunched over a small desk with his back to the door. He doesn’t turn or react to my entrance, a bulky pair of headphones covering his ears and I scan the room.
It’s bare. Only the necessities, a dresser against the wall, a single bed with plain grey sheets and quilt on the opposite side of the room. There aren’t any toys lying on the floor, no clothes scattered about, nothing to indicate that a child lives in this room.
But at least the layout leaves no places for anyone to hide, so I quickly stow my gun away, not wanting to scare him when I finally get his attention.
“I have Sammy,” I whisper, letting the others know. Mitchell hasn’t spoken yet to tell us what he has, or hasn’t, found behind the last door.
I don’t really need him too though; I’ve walked this path too many times to count. I’m all too familiar with the feeling of getting so close, only to have that hope ripped out from underneath you.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, Mitchell’s confirms my suspicions. “I have the mother. Upstairs is clear.”
No mention of Jace or Bonnie.
A ringing starts in my ears, and I sway on my feet. Distantly, I can hear the others talking in my ear, but I can’t make out their words.
They aren’t here.
We wasted another day.
I stumble backwards, my back pressing against the closed bedroom door. Reflexively, I cover my heart, rubbing at the pain forming there.
This was our only lead.
It’s been forty-seven hours since they were taken.
Forty-seven hours.
They could be anywhere by now.
Fuck.
A scraping noise has my head jerking upright and I see Sammy now studying me with a curious eye, his chair half-turned my way.
Forcing the rising panic down, I focus on the child in front of me. I gesture for him to take his headphones off, and he slowly pulls them down until they’re hanging from his neck.
“Hello,” he says quietly, his head tilting slightly as his eyes flick between me and the door behind me. “Do you work for Doctor Richardson too?”
Doctor Richardson. Not Dad.
“You’re going to get in trouble. No one is allowed in here other than him and Bray and that’s only when Doctor Richardson says he’s been good. I’m not allowed to see him when he’s not good.”
Again, he doesn’t refer to Johnathan as his father and it has me a little on edge, wondering what the man did to instil that level of formality, even when he’s not here, in a kid so young.
“Unless he gave you permission?”
Clearing my throat, I choose to answer his question with one of my own. “How would you like to see Brayden right now?”
His eyes widen and he nods his head excitedly. “Yes please.”
“He’s downstairs,” I explain, holding a hand out for him but he doesn’t take it.
He frowns, looking disappointed by my words and casts a longing look back at the door before he sighs, spinning back around in his chair. “I’m not allowed downstairs. I have to stay in my room, or he gets mad. I don’t like it when he gets mad.”
Crossing the room, I kneel down in front of him. “Doctor Richardson said it was okay,” I lie. “In fact, he said you could go live with Brayden. Would you like that?”
“I get to live with Bray? Like, forever?” I nod my head, and he lets out a quiet ‘whoop’ before jumping out of his seat, tossing his headphones onto the desk.
He immediately heads for the dresser, opening drawer after drawer and pulling out handfuls of clothes, tossing them onto the bed.
I don’t stop him, wanting to buy time for the others to clear the hallway so we don’t traumatise him. When he’s satisfied, he rolls the clothes up in his blanket and tosses it over his shoulder like a sack.
The speed of which he does it has him rocking on his heels and I quickly reach out and take the makeshift bag from him.
Undeterred, he heads straight for the hallway, and I panic.
“Wait!” I immediately feel like a dick when he flinches, shrinking back and looking crushed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…I just-” scrambling, I look around trying to come up with a good reason for stalling that doesn’t involve bloody bodies. “-you forgot your pillow.”
He smiles, running back to the bed without question. With him distracted, I open the door enough to peer out into the hallway, and I’m relieved to find it empty.
When I turn back to the room, I almost jump when I find Sammy standing right behind me, barely a centimetre of space between us as he hugs his pillow with a giant smile. “I’m ready.”
“Well then, let’s not keep Brayden waiting.” I smile, holding my hand out again, and this time he puts his much smaller one in mine without hesitation.
Opening the door wider, I’m careful to keep my body between his and the place where I shot the driver. I keep our pace quick, thankful of the dark carpet that hides the pool of blood.
A loud sob hits my ears as we reach the bottom of the stairs, his mother bursting into tears and crossing the room.
Sammy rears back, hiding behind my legs and the look of devastation on his mother’s face has me fighting tears of my own.
I can’t even begin to imagine how heart broken she must feel right now. This is likely the first time she’s seen her son in four years…and he’s looking at her with zero recognition, and a hint of fear.
If I didn’t hate Johnathan before, I would now.
Turning, I kneel down and face the trembling child. “Sammy…do you know who this is?” He shakes his head. “This is your mum, Sammy,” I explain, but the words seems to confuse him more. “Do you know what that means?” He shakes his head.
The front door bursts open before I can think of anything to say to that, and Brayden stares down at his mother as though he can’t believe what he’s actually seeing.
“Mum,” he whispers, launching himself at her, the two squeezing each other tightly. With Brayden in the room, Sammy finally steps out from behind me and approaches his family.
“Bray?”
“Sammy!” Brayden pulls his brother in for a hug, and the six-year-old sinks into his arms, their mother’s wrapping around both of them.
Feeling like I’m intruding, I quietly give the reuniting family a wide berth and make my way to my parents. Once I’m close enough, my dads pull me into a group hug of their own and let out relieved breaths.
“How did Brayden get out of the car?” I ask when we pull apart, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb them.
“Mitchell. Apparently he left the key to the cuffs under the passenger seat, just in case. He sent Brayden a message when he came downstairs.”
“Oh.” Looking around, I frown when I don’t see him anywhere. “Speaking of, where is Mitchell?”
“Downstairs.”