Chapter 30
CONNOR
The feed store had taken longer than expected.
What should have been a quick pick up turned into thirty minutes of the owner wanting to discuss horse training techniques, weather predictions, and whether I'd heard about the Davidson ranch selling to developers.
Small-town pleasantries I normally enjoyed but today it made my skin crawl with impatience.
Every minute away from Harper felt like an eternity, like I was stretching a rubber band that was about to snap.
I loaded the last bag of feed into my truck bed, the coarse burlap scratching against my palms, and checked my phone again. No new texts from Harper. She'd checked in thirty minutes ago with that message about Chester and terrible TV, right on schedule.
She's fine. You're being paranoid.
Except the unease wouldn't leave. It sat in my chest like a weight, making each breath slightly harder than it should be, making my hands shake just enough that I fumbled my keys.
I climbed into the truck and started the engine, already mentally calculating the fastest route home. Forty minutes if I kept to the speed limit. Thirty if I didn't.
I made it in twenty-five.
The ranch looked exactly as it should when I pulled in, the gate was secure, barn quiet, Felix's motorcycle parked near the equipment shed where he'd been working on repairs. Everything looked fine.
I parked near the house and climbed out.
My boots crunched on gravel that sounded too loud in the quiet afternoon.
I was already reaching for my keys, my hands moving automatically.
The front door was locked, exactly as it should be.
I unlocked it and pushed inside, the familiar creak of hinges that I'd been meaning to oil for months suddenly sounding ominous.
“Harper!” I called out, dropping my keys on the side table with a clatter that echoed. “I'm back! Sorry it took longer than—”
Silence.
Not the comfortable silence of someone absorbed in a task or lost in thought. The wrong kind of silence. Empty silence. The kind that made your ears ring.
No response. No sound of Harper coming down the stairs or calling back from another room. No Chester running over to greet me like he always did, his tail thumping against furniture, his whole body wiggling with the kind of enthusiasm that said I'd been gone for years instead of hours.
Nothing.
“Harper?” Louder now, my voice echoing through the house in a way that made my skin prickle with dread.
Still nothing.
My heart rate kicked up, adrenaline flooding my system with that metallic taste on my tongue.
I moved through the house quickly, scanning every room.
Living room empty, kitchen empty with her mug still on the counter from this morning, the porch on the side of the house blissfully silent.
No signs of Harper. No signs anyone had been here at all.
Maybe she was upstairs and she'd fallen asleep and couldn't hear me.
I took the stairs two at a time, my boots loud on the wooden treads, calling her name like if I said it loud enough, she'd appear. Our bedroom was empty, the bed was made with the same precision Harper always used. The guest room and bathroom were empty, the air still and undisturbed.
Back downstairs, I moved faster now as panic started to claw up my throat like broken glass. I distantly realized that my hands were shaking.
“Harper!”
That's when I heard it. A faint sound from the back of the house that made my blood freeze.
A whimper.
I ran toward the sound, my heart hammering so hard it hurt, my chest so tight I could barely breathe, down the short hallway to where the back door stood—
Wide open.
The back door I'd made Harper promise to keep locked was standing open, late morning sunshine streaming in like a mockery, warm air mixing with the cool interior, the small porch visible beyond like an invitation. Birds were singing cheerfully, I could hear them clearly.
“No.” The word came out strangled, my throat too tight to work properly. “No—”
Chester lay just outside the doorway, and my heart stopped completely. Please be alive.
But then he lifted his head, whimpered again, tried to stand and couldn't quite manage it. His left front leg hung at an odd angle that made my stomach turn, and I could see blood matting the golden fur on his side, dark and wet and smelling like copper pennies.
Hurt. But alive. Thank God.
“Chester, buddy.” I dropped to my knees beside him, the impact jarring my bones, my hands running over him to assess damage with the same care I'd use on an injured horse.
His fur was warm under my palms, sticky with blood in places, and he whined when I touched his ribs.
Broken leg for sure, maybe broken ribs from the way he flinched, but breathing steady.
His eyes were alert, focused on me with something that looked like an apology. “What happened? Where's Harper?”
He whined and looked toward the fenced yard beyond where the grass swayed gently in the breeze, and understanding crashed over me like ice water.
They took her. Someone had come while I was gone. Someone had hurt my dog and taken Harper and I wasn't here to protect her. I'd left her alone and they'd taken her.
My phone was in my hand before I consciously decided to grab it, fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped it.
I had to grip it tighter, to focus past the panic threatening to drown me.
I dialed Jaxon first, he'd be fastest, he'd know what to do, he'd been trained for exactly this kind of situation.
The phone rang once. Twice. Each ring felt like an eternity stretching into forever.
“Connor? That was quick—”
“She's gone.” My voice came out raw, broken, barely recognizable as mine. “Harper's gone. Someone took her. The back door's open, Chester's hurt, Harper's just—gone.”
Silence on the other end for three of the longest seconds of my life. I could hear Jaxon's breathing change, and could practically hear him shifting into combat mode.
“I'm on my way. Call Davies. Don't touch anything, it's a crime scene.” Jaxon's voice had shifted to that Marine commander’s tone. Calm, controlled, and deadly efficient. “Connor, I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?”
“They have Harper.” The words came out choked when my throat closed around them like a fist. “They have Harper and my baby and I wasn't here. I should have been here and—”
“Connor, breathe. I'm coming. Call Davies now. Stay with Chester and don't touch anything else. We're going to find her.”
I couldn't breathe. My lungs wouldn't expand properly, each breath too shallow, too fast, not getting enough oxygen to my brain. I hung up and called Davies immediately, my fingers fumbling over the numbers.
“Connor—”
“She's gone.” The panic was breaking through now, my voice cracking like ice under pressure. “Davies, they took Harper. I came home and the back door was open and Chester's hurt and she's just gone. You have to find her. You have to—”
“I'm already moving. Every available unit is heading to you.” His voice was firm, grounding, cutting through my spiral with the authority of someone who'd dealt with emergencies before. “Connor, I need you to not touch anything. The scene needs to be preserved for evidence.”
“I don't care about the evidence! I care about Harper!”
“And the evidence will help us find her. Connor listen to me. Is there any sign of which direction they went?”
I forced myself to think past the panic and look at the scene analytically even though every instinct was screaming at me to just run, to chase after them somehow, to do something other than stand here useless.
I forced myself to be the kind of calm, rational person Harper needed me to be right now instead of the terrified mess I was.
Looking out at the fenced yard, the grass was disturbed near the back fence with tire tracks that cut across the lawn in deep ruts, crushing the grass I'd just mowed two days ago while Harper had sat on the porch watching me and laughing at something Chester was doing.
“There’s tire tracks in the yard, near the back fence line.
Looks like they drove across the property, probably came in from the access road that runs along the back boundary.
” My mouth was so dry the words came out thick.
I swallowed, tried again. “Davies, they planned this.
They knew exactly how to get in and out without being seen from the main road. They've been watching us.”
“Don't go out there. Don't contaminate the scene.” Davies paused, and I heard him talking to someone in the background. “Connor, I'm three minutes out. Stay inside, stay with your dog, and don't do anything stupid. We'll find her.”
But three minutes felt like three hours, each second stretching impossibly long and time distorting the way it did in nightmares when you're running but can't move fast enough.
I knelt beside Chester again, my hand gentle on his head, feeling the soft fur beneath my fingers that was usually so clean but now matted with blood.
“I'm sorry, boy. I'm so sorry.” My voice cracked completely, tears burning behind my eyes that I refused to let fall.
Not yet. Not until Harper was safe. “You tried to protect her. I know you tried.”
Chester whined and licked my hand weakly, and the gesture nearly broke me. He tried to save her and they hurt him. They hurt my dog and took my family and I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill them.
Jaxon's Jeep tore into the driveway before Davies arrived, I heard the engine roar, heard tires on gravel spraying rocks, heard the door slam. He was out and running before the engine fully stopped. Anna was with him, her face pale with fear even from a distance.
“Connor—” Jaxon stopped when he saw my face. When he saw Chester on the ground surrounded by blood that looked too red against the grass, his expression shifted immediately into combat mode. His jaw set and his eyes darkened as his muscles tightened. “Tell me everything.”