Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sheriff Thomas shoves his hands to his waist. “First you come charging in here with some bullshit claim, and then I find you snooping around. I oughtta arrest you for trespassing.”
I keep my irritation in check with a measured exhale. “We have every right to be here.”
With a sneer, he leans sideways to spit tobacco juice into the dirt. “I’ll escort you from the premises.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say as CJ joins me. “We were just leaving.”
Sheriff Thomas stares a beat too long at CJ’s badge, then the two of them lock eyes.
“I thought that was you,” Thomas says to CJ, cold hatred in his gaze. “Fish and Game must be gettin’ desperate if they’re hiring drunks who can’t stay out of trouble.” He spits again, making my stomach lurch. “You ever find that sister of yours?”
Next to me, CJ stiffens. “What do you fucking know about it?”
Sheriff Thomas gives him a smug grin. “I’m the sheriff. I know all kinds of things.”
CJ lunges, but I grab him by the shoulders. “Stop right there,” I grit out while he fumes.
Using his momentum, I steer us past the sheriff. Only once we’re a safe distance away do I release CJ. “Get in,” I mutter, my tone firm.
CJ releases a strangled grunt as he swings the door open and climbs into the passenger seat.
I settle behind the wheel and start the engine, then back the truck and trailer away from the barn. Sheriff Thomas gives me a cocky salute from beside his SUV as I steer toward the exit.
Driving with a load of fresh wood is like dragging an anchor and takes some concentration to navigate the potholes, so I wait until we’re back on pavement before I shoot CJ a glance.
“Getting into a brawl with the sheriff is a great way to get fired.”
He huffs a full breath and leans back in the seat. “I’m sorry.”
I grip the wheel. “He’s right that we were trespassing.” I shouldn’t have let CJ talk me into stopping at the barn. Aggravating Sheriff Thomas goes against our plan to stay off his radar while we quietly build a case against Jerome Wakefield and his flock.
“Could he really arrest us for that?”
“Yes. Not that it would stick, but the red tape would be a giant clusterfuck not to mention a complete waste of time.”
The hum from my weighted-down tires fills the silence for several miles.
CJ runs a hand through his mop of curls, his eyes on the passing landscape. “His timing is sure interesting.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were inside both of those houses, then we spent forty-five minutes loading up that wood. But the minute we stop at the barn, he rolls up.” CJ glances at me, eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell him what we saw in the window?”
“Because I don’t trust him.”
CJ turns back to the window with a shake of his head. “It looked like someone sat below that window, waiting. That message was meant for us.”
“Yet the barn was empty.” At the four-way stop, I turn left, and the tiny town of Elk Flats fills the rearview.
“You saw it though. Someone needs our help.”
What if the message was some kind of prank? Or a trap? “There’s nothing else we can do right now. And it’s beyond our scope.”
“Hold it. You’re telling me we’re going to just turn our backs on this?”
I press the accelerator down, but the truck is sluggish thanks to the heavy load. “I’ll share it with the task force.”
His disapproving huff reminds me of a petulant child, so I ignore it.
“You got a history of starting trouble?” Maybe CJ’s full of shit and that timecard story was his way of trying to make himself look like a hero when the truth is full of holes?
“No, sir.” His tone is firm and confident.
“Then help me understand.”
He runs his left thumb down his thigh, straight down the crease, drawing my attention to the rose tattoo on the back of his hand. There’s writing there too but I can’t read it. “I used to like to party.”
Used to. “You’re an alcoholic.”
He nods. “Sober for over two years.”
“And your sister?”
“She left when I was twelve.”
I frown at the long expanse of road ahead. “Left, as in moved away?”
He chuckles, but it’s dark. “Naw. As in climbed onto the back of some dude’s Harley and rode off into the sunset. I’ve tried to find her, but I don’t think she wants to be found. Lately I’ve been starting to think she might be dead.”
With a slow sigh, I rub at the knot behind my breastbone. “What does Sheriff Thomas have to do with her?”
“I don’t know.”
The sudden heaviness in his tone hints at the emotional toll this has taken. “What’s her name?”
“Molly.”
A mess like this is exactly what I don’t need, and while some of it isn’t directly CJ’s fault, I feel like I’ve been duped. So far, CJ’s shown promise. But if he’s going to react like a hothead under stress, this is not the job for him.
When I slow to merge onto the 95, a flash of color from my rearview mirror catches my eye. “What the?”
CJ spins around just as some of the stacked wood shifts, and I get a better look at what’s back there.
“Holy fuck.” CJ practically claws at the back window. “Pull over!”
“Hang on.” I decelerate carefully to the side of the road, beneath the overpass. It’s dark under here, the silence punctuated by the hiss of passing cars on the freeway above us.
On my way out of the cab, I snatch my flashlight and click it on. CJ and I walk toward the trailer, the scent of exhaust mixing with the cut wood’s clean scent.
When my flashlight beam arcs over the place in the woodpile where the kids are hiding, a pair of terrified eyes peeks out, framed by dark brown curls.
“Hey there,” CJ says in a soothing voice, crouching so he’s level with them.
I lower the flashlight beam so I’m not blinding them, and press my free hand to my chest. “I’m Rowdy, and this is CJ.”
They must have crawled into the trailer at the barn. “Gweneth and McKenzie, right?” I ask.
CJ shoots me a sharp look. But he likely hasn’t studied these girls’ faces the way I have.
Gweneth nods, but her eyes are tense with fear. She’s shivering, with her arms wrapped around her younger sister McKenzie, who is crying.
Questions unspool in my mind but I set them aside because the most important thing we need to do right now is protect them.
“You girls are safe now, okay?” I say past the prickly lump in my throat. “It’s going to be all right.”
CJ glances my way again, his eyes pleading.
“I want Mommy,” the younger girl says in a tense rush, followed by a sob.
“We’re going to help you get to her,” I say before CJ can start making promises we might not be able to keep. It won’t be as simple as rolling up to Sadie Travers’ front door.
“First let’s get you both out of the trailer,” CJ says. “You can ride with us in the truck, where it’s warm.”
The older sister nods. “Okay,” she whispers.
CJ and I get to work deconstructing their hiding spot.
The girls are indeed shivering, and it’s no surprise considering how cold it must have been back here exposed to the wind, plus they’re wearing only thin leggings and T-shirts.
Who dresses their kids like this in the middle of winter?
McKenzie’s cheek is smudged with dirt, and Gweneth’s feet are bare.
Someone helped them with this plan. Someone strong enough to quietly re-stack the wood around them. Someone quick enough to cover them up.
How many more children are waiting for help?
It makes me want to get the hell gone, before Sheriff Thomas shows up and forces the girls into his custody, where I’m sure they’ll end up back inside that compound.
I need to call Luke Ballard. And the Canyon County Sheriff’s Department.
“I’ve got you, honey,” CJ says, offering his hands to Gweneth. He lifts her out of the trailer. I reach for McKenzie. Her little rib cage is so small in my hands. Like a baby bird’s.
At the truck, I move some gear around so they can sit next to each other. They’re so thin I’m able to strap them into the same seat. They hold hands and sit so stiff and quiet. I shouldn’t take offense that they don’t trust us, but my anger is quickly spiraling out of control.
Protecting a child’s innocence is a father’s most important job. Maybe we can’t shield our kids from every hurt, but we at least need to prioritize their well-being, be their safe landing.
Gweneth and McKenzie’s father has failed them. Repeatedly. Was he the one who kidnapped them, forcing them back into a life they didn’t choose?
“You girls like butterscotch?” I pull out the dime store package I stashed in the console yesterday.
“We’re not supposed to eat sweets,” Gweneth says with a hard swallow.
Taking candy from a stranger is likely on their list too, dummy. Sofie would probably tell me this is sending the wrong kind of message, but I’m desperate to reassure them.
“How about I give you each one, and you can decide if you want to try it?” I unwrap one and pop it into my mouth. The bright sweetness explodes on my dry tongue.
I give one to CJ. His eyes brighten as he spins it open and slides it between his teeth. “Yum.”
When I offer two butterscotch buttons to the girls, they eye each other, then Gweneth plucks them from my palm. “Thank you.”
“Who knew Mr. Grumpy Gills had a sweet tooth?” CJ says under his breath as I pull onto the road.
The nondescript one-story building surrounded by tall ponderosas that houses Canyon County’s Child Protective Services could pass for a school administration building or a library with its beige walls, thin carpet, and the overworked female staff.
It’s a few blocks from the sheriff’s department, and a better place for the girls while everything gets sorted.
I debated bringing them to Finn River, where I have strong connections with law enforcement, but State Trooper Vera Perch and Luke both urged me here instead, not only because Luke’s brother Kaz is the sheriff, but it will be easier for the girls’ mother to see them and reclaim custody.