29. Lockheart
LOCKHEART
Left, right, left, right. I march the length of my hotel room and back again, waiting for a call.
It’s four fifteen and I haven’t heard from Nico yet.
She promised she’d call me after Lucky got out of school.
I know she’s probably driven him to get ice cream or something, and I’m trying to respect their time together, but, shit, I want to know how he got on.
I drag my phone out of my pocket and check the time again. Four sixteen. Fuck it, I’m calling.
Unable to stifle my grin just thinking about hearing her voice, I wait for her to pick up and begin rambling in my ear about how amazing Lucky’s day went. So imagine my surprise when a male voice answers her phone. One that most decidedly does not belong to my son.
“Who the fuck are you?” I spit out, quickly checking myself so I don’t get in Nico’s bad books again. “Where’s Nicole?” I ask in a gentler tone, but still through gritted teeth.
“I’m Detective Kincaid, is that Mr Lockheart?”
My heart’s racing, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of the hotel room and charging down the stairs to the lobby. If a detective's answering her phone, something bad’s happened. “I am. What’s going on? Is Nico okay? Is Lucky alright?”
“I’m going to pass you over to Miss Morgan, but, Mr Lockheart, please know we’re doing all we can.”
I make it to the concierge’s desk and demand a car, knowing that all of the hotels we use for away games are supposed to have them on hand for emergencies.
“Owen…” Nico’s voice sobs down the line. “Someone’s taken Lucky.”
My stomach drops to my feet and my heart stops beating. Someone has Lucky.
I keep the phone tightly clutched to my ear but I can’t hear anything. I know Nico’s sobbing. I know I should be speaking, asking questions, finding out what's happened, but I don’t. I just stand there, silently willing this to be a nightmare.
“Mr. Lockheart? MR. LOCKHEART?”
I swallow the confusion and fear down. “Yes?” I manage to get out when the detective comes back on the line.
“We believe your son has been kidnapped. We’re at your house with Miss Morgan.
We have every officer on this and we’re in communication with border control to make sure no one matching Lucky’s description is allowed to leave the country.
Where are you, sir? Do you need us to arrange a car to collect you? ”
“No. I’m getting in a car now. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.
Do you have any idea who?” The concierge nods his head to a driver and I follow him out to a black Mercedes.
As I get into the car, I’m grateful for the blacked out windows.
I don’t need the press all over this until I know what this is exactly.
“We don’t have any leads yet, but we do think it could be someone Lucky knows.”
Someone he knows. The words ring in my ears as the detective advises me to keep the line open for them to contact me then signs off.
After rambling my address to the driver and closing the partition sectioning myself off from him, I pull up Brady’s contact details and call him. His chirpy voice makes my teeth grit together.
“You missing me already? You just saw me on the bus.”
“Brady shut the fuck up and listen good. I’m in a car heading home. Someone’s taken Lucky. I need you to pack my shit up, tell Coach and phone Shark for me. I don’t have any information yet. Understood?” My voice is devoid of emotion, but my heart is lodged in my throat as I wait for him to answer.
“You’re not fucking kidding. Shit. Leave it with me. I’ll handle everything. I’ll phone Shark too. Keep us updated, Lockheart.”
I hang up without speaking. I can’t let my emotions take over right now. I need to think.
My phone roars to life with a flood of texts from my teammates and Coach, but I ignore them all, calling Nico again instead.
“Talk me through exactly what happened, please,” I ask before she can even say hello.
“Um, I got to the school at three and was waiting outside.” Her voice is distant, confused, almost as if she’s not really there.
I force the frustration down because I need to know everything, and snapping at her isn’t going to get me anywhere.
“When he didn’t come out, I went to the teacher who told me someone had called pretending to be me and said someone would be picking him up early.
The police are waiting for the CCTV. I’m so sorry Owen.
” Her voice cracks and she starts to sob, and I know I should comfort her, but I’m more curious as to why she’s apologising. She didn’t do anything wrong, did she?
Instead of reassuring her, I ask more questions.
“Did you post anything with him in his uniform on social media? How many people knew what school he was attending today? Did you ask the teacher for a description of whoever picked him up? Male, female, old or young? Nico, did you ask them anything else?” My voice is bordering on frustration laced with anger as I steamroll through the questions without giving her a chance to answer.
Fuck! She doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t help but lash out at her.
“I, Owen, I don’t know. I think I posted a picture of him, but I don’t think he was in uniform. And I’m fairly certain I haven't told anyone what the school was called. I’m, I, I don’t know if I asked, or if they said. I don’t know, Owen. I just don’t know.”
Her voice is muffled as her sobs wrack through the line, but instead of feeling guilt for bombarding her with questions, the anger inside of me builds up.
How does she not fucking know? This is our son’s safety we’re talking about.
I try to temper it down a notch with a deep breath before I speak again, but I know my voice will convey what I’m feeling.
“Nico, I just need to know what we’re dealing with here.” I say slowly, and grind my molars together to stop anything else coming out of my mouth.
“What I’m dealing with, you mean. You aren’t here. And I’m already blaming myself, I don’t need you doing it too. It’s not my fault.”
“Well whose fault is it then? I may not be there, but I’m not posting pictures on socials for the whole fucking world to see.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I could take them back. “Nico, I didn’t mean…”
“No, it’s fine. I think it was clear exactly what you meant.” The defeat in her voice is palpable and then the line goes dead.
“FUCK!” I shout into the car and throw my phone onto the seat. I should never have said that. Nico’s socials are private and she barely has any followers. I don’t know why I’m putting the blame on her.
Except I do.
I’m blaming her because it’s easier than blaming myself.
I made him leave his old school. I made him go to this private one because I thought it was safer, and the only reason he needs to be protected is because my job is high profile. I dragged him and Nico into the world of celebrity and it’s my fucking fault that someone’s taken him.
I don’t care what they ask for. I’ll give them my fucking heart if it means Lucky comes back home to us. They already have the reason it beats.
I don’t know what to do. I drag my hands down my face and groan loudly at the useless feeling wrapping around my lungs and making it hard to breathe.
My phone rings and startles me. Jaxson’s face swarms my screen with an incoming video call. My finger hovers over the accept or decline button, but I know if I decline it he’ll call again and again. He won’t quit.
“Yeah?” I force the word out through the emotion clogging my throat.
“Any news?” His brows are drawn together and his usual grin is distinctly absent. He’s worried, but I don’t have it in me to care.
“All I know is that he was taken from school and the police think it’s someone he knows.” I don’t want to snap at him, but I’m fucking pissed with the world right now so I’ll take it out on anyone and everyone till I get my boy back.
“How’s Nico holding up?” He doesn’t mention my tone, doesn’t try to cheer me up and make me feel better. He doesn’t say or do anything stupid to make me smile. I’m a little disappointed. Having a row with him might have taken some of the misplaced anger I’m feeling at everyone else away.
“Dunno. She hung up on me.” I shrug and slump back into my seat.
“What did you do?”
The bite in his voice pisses me off and I glare at him. “Nothing. I asked the questions that needed to be asked. That’s all.”
“Like what?” He spits out and I sigh loudly. This isn’t like Jaxson, but I don’t care, I want to argue with him. I want to burn the whole damn world down right now.
“Nico didn’t ask anything after he was taken.
Not even for a description. The police are getting CCTV but she could’ve asked what the person looked like.
And she was so quick to apologise to me.
Why was she saying sorry? I just wanted to know what happened, so I asked what I needed too, what she should have. ”
Replaying it all in my head as I say the words, I sound like a complete arsehole. I should have comforted her. Told her everything will be okay. Been her strength when she needed it. But I couldn’t.
Because Lucky being taken is my fault. And I wanted to redirect the blame enough so she wouldn’t realise that.
I fucked up. And instead of begging, grovelling at Nico’s feet, I’m freeballing trying to save face. Because I’m a fucking dickhead.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just needed to know.” My neck heats up and my stomach turns at the memory of the hurt in her voice when I barked my questions at her. Like I was interrogating her, treating her like a suspect instead of a mum terrified of never seeing her little boy again.
“I thought you loved her. Stupid me.” He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.
“I do love her.” God, it feels good to shout.
“No, you don’t.”
He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, lo and behold, anger glints in them and it feels like our roles have reversed. Instead of him being the one getting told off by me, I’m about to get the full force of angry Brady.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have caused even more pain to her when she’s going through the worst time of her entire life.
You were raised by a loving, decent, mom who loved you no matter what.
Weren’t you?” He calmly asks and I nod, the wind taken out of my sails by the mention of my mum.
“While Nicole was raised by someone who couldn’t give a damn about her.
Right?” I nod again and swallow hard, not liking where this is going already.
“She was left on her own, treated like crap by the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. And instead of letting that experience scar her, destroy any parental need in her, she took it and became the best fucking mom to our little Lucky. Yeah, I’m claiming him.
And what?” He takes a breath but I’m unable to form words as the realisation of what I said and did hits home.
“She is to Lucky what your mom was to you. And you have the fucking nerve to bark questions at her? When she’s already feeling so much guilt over a situation neither of you had any control over.
Made her question whether she could’ve done more when she had no idea this would happen.
She doesn’t have a fucking crystal ball that tells her what’s gonna happen in the future.
She was just as much in the dark as you. ”
He shakes his head at himself. This kid has been like a brother to me, and seeing the look of admiration fall away from his eyes, replaced with disappointment in me, hits harder than his words. I try to speak, but the emotion is lodged in my throat. It doesn’t matter anyway, because he isn’t done.
“So she didn’t ask for a description, I bet the cops did.
She didn’t ask the staff all the relevant questions because she was in shock, despair, and pain.
And the one person who knows that exact feeling, the one person who understands what it feels like to have your heart walking around outside of your body, decides to be a snippy asshole instead of understanding, comforting, and being there for her.
If you loved her, Lockheart, really fucking loved her, questions would’ve been the last thing on your mind.
Consoling her, helping her, fucking loving her would have been more important. ”
My face is contorted in pain and shock and I can’t respond to him because fuck he’s right.
“Or maybe you just needed to use her as a scapegoat. Blame her for everything because you couldn’t blame yourself.
Because it’s written all over your damn face.
The guilt and self blame. And instead of talking to the one person who could understand it, you alienated yourself and probably ruined your shot at a happily ever after.
You’re an idiot. I’m going to call Edie and tell her to check on Nicole.
Think long and hard, Lockheart. Fucking douche,” he spits out and ends the call.
I throw the phone onto the seat next to me and shout FUCK loudly into the silence of the car again. I want to phone Nico and apologise, but I don’t want to risk her hanging up on me. I need to be able to touch her, hold her, let her slap me silly if it’ll make up for my behaviour.
I lower my head, clasp my hands together and pray to whatever God is up there to keep my boy safe. And then I send her a text with two words I hope are enough:
Me
I’m sorry