Chapter 30 #2
“I left a little after nine. Told her to stay inside and keep the doors locked. She texted me at ten and ten-thirty like we agreed. Then nothing. I got home five minutes ago and—” My voice broke completely, shattered like glass.
“The back door was open, Chester’s hurt, Harper’s gone.
Jaxon, they have her. They have my baby. ”
“We'll find her.” Jaxon moved to the fenceline, careful not to disturb anything.
His eyes scanned the scene with tactical precision honed by years of military training and combat experience.
“Fresh tire tracks. One vehicle, van or SUV based on the width. They came in from the back, grabbed her, and went out the same way. Professional extraction.”
Anna knelt beside Chester, her hands gentle as she examined him, murmuring soft reassurances in that voice she used with traumatized animals. “He needs a vet but he's stable for now. Connor, he's going to be okay.”
“He tried to protect her.” The words came out thick with emotion I couldn't control, tears finally spilling over that I couldn't stop anymore. “Chester tried to stop them and they hurt him. I should have been here—”
“Stop.” Jaxon's voice was sharp, cutting through my spiral like a knife. “Connor, this isn't your fault. You can't be with her every second. They were waiting for an opportunity and they took it. This is on them, not you.” But I knew I should’ve stayed and I left her anyway.
Davies arrived with three patrol cars, their lights flashing silently. Deputies immediately fanned out to secure the perimeter and document the scene with cameras and evidence bags. I could hear their radios crackling and their boots on the gravel.
Davies approached with his notepad already out, his weathered face grim in the afternoon light that felt like it belonged to some other, happier day. “Connor. Walk me through it. Everything from the moment you left this morning.”
I told him everything I had just relayed to Jaxon. When I left, how often she checked in, when I got home. How I found the door open and Chester hurt and Harper just gone.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides and my knuckles went white as my fingernails dug into my palms hard enough to hurt.
The pain helped. It gave me something to focus on besides the terror threatening to overwhelm me, besides the images my brain kept providing of what might be happening to Harper right now.
“We need Emma,” Jaxon said suddenly. “She was with Silas for three months. She knows his patterns, his locations. Where he might take someone.”
Davies nodded. “Get her up here. Now.”
Jaxon pulled out his phone and called Felix. I heard him speaking in low, urgent tones, explaining the situation with clinical precision that I couldn't manage right now. Then he hung up and looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“She's coming. Felix is bringing her from the cabin.”
Minutes dragged by while deputies photographed the scene, collected evidence and searched the property for any other clues.
All of it felt surreal. Wrong. This was my home, the place where Harper and I had planned to build our life together, and now it was a crime scene with yellow tape and strangers documenting my failure to keep her safe.
I stood in my own kitchen after Anna left to take Chester to the vet feeling completely useless, completely helpless.
Emma arrived, supported by Felix, her face white with terror when she saw the scene. She stopped in the doorway, her hand going to her mouth, her whole body starting to shake.
“Oh my God.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Oh my God, they actually did it. Morgan actually—”
“Emma.” I crossed to her in two strides, my boots loud on the floor, and I had to force myself not to grab her and shake the information out of her. To keep my voice calm even though I wanted to scream. “Where would Silas take her? You said there was a house. Where?”
“I—” Emma closed her eyes, her face scrunching in concentration.
“Northeast of town. At least ten miles from the nearest neighbor.
Victorian house, really old, with a red barn that's partially collapsed.
And there's a creek nearby, close enough that you can hear the water running. I used to listen to it at night when I was allowed out of the basement.”
“That's not enough,” Davies said, already pulling out his phone. “Emma, there are dozens of old properties in that area. We need more.”
“The basement.” Emma's voice dropped, and I saw her shudder violently. “The basement is soundproofed. That's where he keeps—kept—the women. And there were wind chimes on the front porch. Metal ones that made this specific sound, like music from a horror movie. I'd recognize it if I heard it.”
Davies was already on his radio, calling in search parameters to every unit in the county. “All units, we're looking for an isolated Victorian house northeast of town, red barn on property, near running water, metal wind chimes on porch. Cross-reference property records immediately.”
“Connor.” Jaxon appeared at my side, his hand on my arm, grounding me when I felt like I might float away. “Harper is strong. She's a fighter. She'll survive until we find her.”
“What if—” I couldn't finish. How could I voice the terror that Harper might already be dead, that I might be too late, that our baby—
“No.” His voice was fierce, his fingers tightening on my arm hard enough to hurt. “Don't think like that. Harper needs you focused. She needs you to find her. So that's what we're going to do.”
Davies' radio crackled, the sound sharp in the tense quiet. “Sheriff, we've got three properties matching the description. Sending coordinates now.”
“Three locations.” Davies looked at me and Jaxon, his jaw set in that way that meant he was preparing for the worst. “We'll need to split into teams. Check them all simultaneously.”
“I'm going with you,” I said immediately, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Davies, don't try to stop me. That's the woman I love and my baby. I'm going.”
“I know.” He didn't argue, and I was grateful for that because I would have gone anyway and we both knew it. “But Connor, when we find her, you let my deputies handle the tactical side. You're a civilian. I can't have you compromising the operation. Can you follow orders?”
Every instinct screamed at me to refuse. To tell him I'd tear apart anyone who'd hurt Harper with my bare hands. To say that orders and procedures didn't matter when my entire world was being held captive by psychopaths who wanted her dead.
But Harper needed me to be smart, not emotional. She needed me to get to her so I could get her out alive.
“I'll follow orders.” The lie came out smooth, but I'd say whatever I needed to say to get to Harper.
“Good. Jaxon, you're with Connor and team one. You’ll take location one.” Davies was already coordinating with deputies, distributing assignments, checking weapons with practiced efficiency. “Emma, I need you to stay here with Felix in case Harper contacts anyone.”
Minutes later, we were in vehicles heading to three different coordinates. Davies leading one team, Deputy Hernandez leading another, and Jaxon leading ours with me in the passenger seat gripping the door handle hard enough that my knuckles ached. Two deputies followed in a second vehicle.
The air conditioning in Jaxon's Jeep was too high, making my skin prickle with cold that caused me to shiver even though I was sweating, a cold sweat that made my shirt stick to my back, my hands clammy on my thighs.
“We're going to find her,” Jaxon said as we turned onto the highway heading northeast. “Connor, stay focused. Harper needs you focused.”
All I could think about was Harper, scared, alone, and possibly hurt.
Those bastards had their hands on her, on my pregnant girlfriend.
Every scenario my mind conjured was worse than the last, each one more horrifying than I could stand and the rocking I had started doing in the seat got worse the more I thought about it.
My phone buzzed against my leg, making me jump hard enough that my head hit the window. Text from Davies.
Davies
First location clear. Old house but no signs of recent activity. Moving to second location.
One down. Two to go. Fifty-fifty chance now.
Please let it be ours.
We drove in tense silence, the landscape changing from ranchland to forest, the roads narrowing from paved to gravel to dirt that kicked up clouds behind us. Dust rose, coating the windows, the smell of it drifted through the vents. Isolated. Just like Emma had said.
The trees pressed in on both sides, their shadows deep and dark despite the afternoon sun. It was a perfect place to hide someone. A perfect place to commit horrors where no one would hear the screams.
Harper's screams.
“Almost there,” Jaxon said, eyes on the GPS. “Quarter mile ahead.”
We slowed, parking off the road behind a thick stand of pines, and proceeded on foot. The ground was soft under our boots, years of pine needles making each step nearly silent. Jaxon led with military precision, the two deputies flanking us, everyone with weapons drawn.
My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my temples, in my throat, in my fingertips where they gripped the gun Jaxon had given me. The metal was warm from being against my body, the weight familiar but somehow heavier today.
When we finally made it to the edge of the trees, I saw it.
A Victorian house, paint peeling in long strips like dead skin and shutters that hung at crooked angles. The windows were dark and watching like dead eyes. And behind it, a red barn with the left side collapsed inward like a giant had stepped on it.
Emma's description. Exactly Emma's description.
“That's it,” I breathed, my voice barely audible even to myself. “Jaxon, that's the house.”
“Stay behind me.” Jaxon's voice was pure command, the tone that had led men through combat zones and brought them home alive. “We do this by the book.”
We crept closer, using trees for cover, and my breath came too fast in the quiet forest. A dark blue van sat near the barn, its windows were tinted, a detail that was out of place for the area, and dust coated its sides.
They were here.
Harper was here. In that house. In that basement Emma had described with such horror in her eyes.
My phone vibrated against my leg with a text from Davies.
Davies
Second location clear. You must have the right one. FBI ETA 20 minutes. Hold position until they arrive.
FBI? Twenty minutes? Harper could be suffering in twenty minutes. She could be dead in twenty minutes. I looked at Jaxon and saw my own thoughts reflected in his eyes. The same calculation, the same decision. Fuck the FBI.
“Davies said to wait,” one of the deputies whispered, his voice uncertain.
“Davies isn't the one whose family is in there,” I said quietly, my jaw so tight it ached.
Jaxon's jaw set, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “Emma said the basement was soundproofed. That's where they'll have her.” He looked at the deputies, his voice brooking no argument. “You two maintain the perimeter. Anyone tries to leave, you stop them. Connor and I are going in.”
“Sir, the sheriff said—”
“The sheriff isn't here.” Jaxon's voice went cold, deadly. “That's our family in there. We're going in. You can either help or stay out of the way.”
The deputies looked at each other, then nodded.
We approached the house from the side, using the barn for cover. The metal wind chimes Emma had described hung from the porch, tinkling softly in the breeze. The sound was almost pretty if you didn't know what it represented. The sound of Emma's captivity. The sound of Harper's prison.
I could smell the creek now, fresh water and mud. It was burbling from somewhere behind the house, cheerful and oblivious to the horrors happening nearby.
When we finally got to the back door, Jaxon tested the handle with careful fingers, twisting it slowly, silently. Unlocked.
Of course it was unlocked. They weren't expecting company this far from civilization, this deep in the woods where no one could hear anything.
He looked at me, held up three fingers as he counted down silently.
Three.
Two.
One.
We burst through the door, weapons raised, and I had one thought consuming everything else.
I'm coming, Harper.