Chapter 12
Linsey
Igive up trying to sleep around four in the morning and slide out of bed. Sabre is sprawled out on his stomach, his Savage Legion tattoo gleaming in the moonlight. The man’s a mountain of muscle, gorgeous, and sleeps like a log.
I pull on jeans and a warm sweater before heading down to the kitchen to make coffee.
The first taste is like heaven. I sip a cup while I browse my email and try to relax.
After my cup is empty, I put in a pan of cinnamon rolls, which I made from scratch.
It takes a bit because the dough has to rise.
I enjoy cooking. It’s a great distraction when you’ve got a lot on your mind.
Sabre comes down the hall just as I’m pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven because the man’s got the nose of a bloodhound. We’ve been here for a couple of weeks, and I’ve never had to call him for breakfast or dinner. He just follows his nose.
“You didn’t sleep?” he asks, giving me a kiss and a bear hug.
“I slept until around three thirty. Then I started ruminating about every detail of this situation with my ex. Since I couldn’t stop dwelling on it, I decided to get up and have coffee, which led to wanting something sweet to go with my coffee.”
He stands with one arm still wrapped around me. One hand comes up to smooth back my hair and tuck it behind my ear. “So, this was a chain reaction that started with thinkin’ too much and ended with delicious baked goods. I’m really gonna try not to take advantage of this secret knowledge, darlin’.”
Then he kisses me, and his breath is minty fresh.
I don’t know exactly how long we stand there, but it’s a while.
When we eventually pull apart, he pours himself a cup of coffee while I drizzle glaze over the cinnamon rolls.
We sit on stools at his counter and nibble from the same roll with two forks without bothering to remove it from the pan.
It feels almost romantic in a way, rather than just greedy for sweets.
He asks, “Did you know Noah left his light on all night?”
“Are you sure about that? He normally likes it dark.”
“I saw light comin’ from under his door when I went to bed last night. It was still on when I went to the restroom at around two. It was still on when I came down just now.”
“Maybe he fell asleep and forgot to turn it off. That happens sometimes.”
“Maybe one of us ought to go check on him. You know, just to be sure.”
I’m about to slide off my stool when we hear a small sound from the kitchen doorway.
We both spin around in our chairs and see Noah standing there in his pajamas.
His hair is standing up the way it does when he’s tossed and turned all night.
His eyes are red and bloodshot. They’re also a little puffy, like he’s been crying.
I come to my feet and begin moving towards him.
He clutches his cell phone to his chest and takes a step back.
That makes me stop. “What’s wrong, bug? Tell me, and I’ll help you figure out how to make it better.”
Suddenly, Sabre is standing beside me. “Did you have a nightmare? Are you sick?”
“Am I a kidnapped kid?”
The question makes my brain blank out for a second. I recover quickly, though. “What?”
“Mom, just be honest about it,” he says hoarsely. “Am I like those kids on missing-person flyers you see taped to telephone poles?”
“I don’t understand. Where did all this come from, Noah?”
“Just answer the question. Am I one of those kidnapped kids and too stupid to realize it?”
I finally get my ass in gear and walk over to him. Getting down on his level, I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No, of course not.”
I pull him in. He freezes up for a second before pulling away. I’m shocked because my son has never acted this way before.
“You stole me from my family, and that’s why I don’t have a dad.”
“Noah.” My voice comes out wrong, sounding shocked and indignant. “I’m your mother. My name is on your birth certificate. You know that because I gave you a copy for school when your teacher was talking about them. Remember?”
“He said that’s what you’d say!” His chin is shaking, and he’s tearing up again.
I must be slow because Sabre figures it out before I do.
“Hey. Listen to your mom instead of whoever’s been contacting you on that cell phone in your hand.”
Just like that, all the pieces begin to click into place. Clearly, Dylan found out about Noah and put two and two together, then somehow found Noah’s number.
“This is a complicated situation, bug. We need to sit down and have a conversation about this. I promise you haven’t been abducted by me.”
“You’re lying. Someone sent me a flyer with my name and all my other information on it. It’s even got my birthday.”
Sabre says soothingly, “There is a lot goin’ on here, Noah. I know you’re smart for your age. I’m sure Sergeant Rock has something to say about gettin’ all the facts straight before you make a decision.”
“Let us see what has you so upset,” I tell him gently.
Noah looks at me for a long moment. Then he holds out the phone. “Don’t touch it. Just read.”
Sabre and I lean forward and stare at the screen. Sure enough, it’s an image of a poster.
It looks real too, laid out exactly like the real ones Noah and I have seen around town every so often. The heading says NOAH HALE. MISSING SINCE BIRTH in capital letters across the top.
Where the photo should be, there’s just a black silhouette of a boy with a question mark inside it because whoever made this doesn’t have a picture of him. Under that, there is a paragraph that reads:
Age 9. Abducted and concealed by his mother, Linsey Hale, formerly of Billings, Montana.
Mother falsely reported a miscarriage. The biological father and extended family have been searching for him for years.
If you have information regarding this child, contact the tip line below or the local PD’s missing-person helpline.
There’s an eight-hundred number printed right below.
“This can’t be real,” I mumble, shocked beyond belief.
“It’s not,” Sabre says firmly.
Noah pulls the phone back and looks intently at the image. “How can you tell?”
Sabre reaches out and uses two fingers to enlarge the image. “See that case number under your name? It’s only four digits. There is no such thing as a four-digit case number. They’re all alphanumeric these days and at least eight digits long.”
Sabre’s hand comes out again. He hooks one finger over the top of Noah’s phone and pulls it down so they can both see the screen again.
He uses that finger to slide the screen to the side.
“Look closely at that shield-shaped logo in the top right-hand corner. See how it looks blurrier than the rest of the page? That’s what happens when someone grabs an image and it doesn’t match the resolution of the document. It’s a sign of fraud.”
Noah’s mouth drops open. “You’re right about both those things.”
Just when I think he’s about to calm down, he bursts into tears. “Why would my dad lie to me like this?”
“Someone claiming to be your father contacted you?” The question slips out, even though it’s perfectly obvious that’s exactly what happened.
“Yeah,” he says, trying to snuff back his tears. “He messaged me on that Civil War history forum you let me join.”
I close my eyes and count to ten.
Meanwhile, Sabre moves us to the sofa and encourages Noah to give more details.
Noah’s breath hitches as he talks. “He said he was my dad and my name should be Everett, not Hale. I didn’t believe him at first, but he knew things like Mom’s birthday and where she grew up and what she did for a living. He said that information was verification that what he was saying was true.”
Sabre interjects, “Verification is information you cross-check with another source.”
“When I told him that I still didn’t believe him and this was stranger-danger stuff, he sent screenshots of all these people praying for someone to bring this child home.
They said a mother’s got no right to steal a son from his father.
There were so many of them, all saying this wasn’t God’s plan. ”
He gazes at me intently. “He says he got sent to prison because you lied, but he’s not holding a grudge because that’s not godly.”
Frowning, I respond flatly, “Dylan Everett clearly had a lot to say about me. Did he tell you about himself at all?”
“Just that he went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. He also said you told everyone I died. Did you tell people I died?”
“Yes. I did what I had to do to keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe? What does that even mean?”
Then he turns to Sabre. “Are you helpin’ her hide me? Is that what all the cameras are really for?”
That’s about the time the shock wears off, and I fully come to my senses. “Noah, listen to me. Your father wasn’t a good man. He hurt me and went to jail for it. I can prove it with real paperwork instead of fake paperwork.”
I grab the firebox that Talon and the prospects dropped off and set it on the coffee table between us. I roll the combination barrels until the proper sequence is in place and hear the lock click open and pull out a large file folder that looks like it’s seen better days and hand it to my son.
“I didn’t tell you any of this because I thought you were too young.
I didn’t want to spoil your childhood. I thought your father would be in jail for two more years and I planned to explain all this before he was released.
But you’re nine now and deserve real answers to the important questions you’re asking. ”
He opens the folder with shaking hands, and it’s all right there: the police report and photocopied pictures that show injuries but not much detail because they were Polaroids that didn’t copy well.