Chapter 32
Shadow
Sadie’s good-for-nothing-ex came up trumps and got us an address.
The house doesn’t look remarkable. It sits at the end of a quiet suburban street lined with almost identical detached homes, each one with neatly clipped hedges, polished windows and flower beds bursting with color.
The little brass plaque beside the yellow door bears nothing more sinister than the house number.
It looks like it belongs on the cover of a gardening magazine.
There are no boarded-up windows, no overflowing trash cans, no obvious signs that anything is wrong.
I’ve spent enough years walking into villages that looked peaceful while hiding unimaginable horrors to know that evil rarely announces itself. The street is painfully ordinary. If Chief hadn’t called us here, I would have driven straight past without giving the place a second glance.
I kill my engine and remove my helmet, listening.
I drown out the rhythmic ticking of my cooling engine, the birdsong, children playing in the neighboring backyards.
Military training is difficult to switch off.
Years later, I still find myself searching for the things most people never notice.
A person wearing a coat on a hot summer’s day, a car that keeps circling, a curtain twitching too often.
The breeze changes direction, tenderly sweeping past us, carrying the unmistakable but faint smell of kerosine before disappearing again. My chest tightens. There are a million innocent reasons why I can smell that, but my gut tells me otherwise.
Trigger doesn’t say anything. He’s already off his bike before the engine has completely died, pacing like a caged animal, every muscle in his body coiled so tightly that I honestly wonder whether he’ll explode if somebody tells him to wait one second longer.
Dash arrives only moments after me, his expression stripped of every trace of its usual humor. I’ve known him most of my adult life, and I cannot remember the last time I saw him look this frightened. He keeps glancing toward the front door as though he’s willing Sadie to walk out of it.
Chief is the last to remove his helmet. He doesn’t speak immediately. He simply studies the house, taking in the same details I already have. The closed curtains, the neat, orderly yard, the garage door that is slightly ajar, as if someone closed it in a hurry.
When he finally looks at me, I know he’s noticed the same thing I have. “You smell it?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
Trigger spins toward us. “What?”
I don’t take my eyes off the house. “Kerosene.”
The single word is enough. The color drains from Dash’s face. Nobody says what we’re all thinking. We don’t need to. If Tyler knows we’re here… If he thinks he’s cornered… kerosene is the last thing any of us wanted to smell.
Chief pulls out his phone, checks the screen and swears under his breath. “The cops are still at least five minutes out.” His mouth presses into a firm line. “Maybe ten.”
Five or ten minutes, that’s if they don’t hit any traffic on the way. It may as well be hours.
Trigger laughs once, the brittle sound a man makes when he’s stretched so far beyond breaking that something inside him has simply snapped. “I’m not waiting.”
“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” Chief replies.
“I know exactly what we’re walking into.” Trigger’s voice is calm now. I’ve heard the same voice coming from my own mouth right before entering a firefight.
Dash voices our thoughts. “We can’t wait. Sadie’s in there.”
Nobody argues with him. Every second we spend standing on the driveway is another second Tyler has alone with her.
Chief closes his eyes briefly before making his decision. “When we go in, nobody loses their head.”
Trigger actually snorts. Dash mutters something under his breath that almost sounds like, Bit late for that.
Chief ignores both of them. “Shadow.” I meet his eyes. “If she’s alive…”
A sound more like a snarl escapes Trigger.
Chief doesn’t finish, he doesn’t need to. I’ve heard those unfinished sentences before. Too many times to count. If she’s alive—and I refuse to think of a situation where that isn’t the case—she’s my priority. I need to get her out of there safely while the guys focus on Tyler.
“I’ve got her,” I say simply.
We don’t dare to voice the thought of what might happen if she’s not. Tyler had better hope that she’s still alive if he wants to live long enough for the cops to arrest him.
Chief gives one short nod. The kind soldiers give each other when words become unnecessary. For a heartbeat, nobody moves.
I think about Owen and the promise I silently made to him the first night I sat outside Sadie’s house in the rain, keeping watch while he slept peacefully upstairs. I promised nothing would happen to his mom. I failed. Today is my chance to put that right.
Chief leads the way, boots creating only the slightest sound as gravel crunches beneath them.
The time of day puts us at a disadvantage, especially in this neighborhood.
It won’t take long before a concerned citizen calls 911.
Luckily for us, we want the cops here. Although that might not be the case very shortly if we unleash Trigger.
I duck beneath the half-open garage door first, immediately sweeping the space with my eyes.
The garage is spotless, almost obsessively organized.
Shelves line one wall, every tool hanging neatly in its place.
Plastic storage boxes are stacked in perfect rows, each one labeled in tidy handwriting.
A silver hatchback waits nose-first toward the opening, the driver’s door standing open.
Either Tyler was in a hurry when he got here, or he’s preparing to leave.
A voice drifts through the doorway: “It’s alright.
” The words are soft and affectionate, spoken with the quiet reassurance of a man comforting someone he loves.
If I hadn’t known what was waiting on the other side of that wall, I might have mistaken the scene for an ordinary conversation between a devoted husband and a sick wife.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “We’re leaving now. We’ll go somewhere they can’t find us, somewhere they can’t fill your head with lies anymore. It’ll just be you and me. I’ll deprogram you, just like I promised. I can fix this.”
Chief catches my eye, and I give the smallest nod.
Tyler’s with her. I can feel the energy radiating off of Trigger.
The only reason he hasn’t gone barreling through that door is that he doesn’t want Sadie to get hurt.
But even the slightest thing could spook him into acting rashly and inadvertently putting her in harm’s way.
Dash senses it too. “Easy,” Dash says under his breath, reaching out to hold Trigger back. “Not yet. We don’t know what we’re about to walk into.”
Trigger doesn’t acknowledge him. His entire world has narrowed to the man who took Sadie. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
Dash’s grip tightens fractionally. “Not if it gets her killed first.”
We move through the internal doorway together.
The smell of kerosene intensifies, thick enough to sting my nose and settle unpleasantly at the back of my throat.
It clings to every breath I take, overpowering everything else.
My gaze instinctively drops to the polished wooden floor, where dark, glistening trails snake their way through the hallway and into the adjoining living room.
An uncapped jerrycan lies on its side beside the kitchen entrance, another standing upright nearby, its contents already splashed liberally across the floorboards.
Piled on one table are stacks of paper and recording equipment, evidence.
I try to tell myself that he doesn’t plan to die here; he wants to ride off into the sunset and destroy any trace left behind.
The fuel isn’t part of some elaborate trap.
It’s simply another piece of whatever deluded plan he’s convinced himself would lead to their happily-ever-after.
I just have to pray that Sadie isn’t evidence he needs to burn.
Tyler’s voice continues drifting toward us, completely oblivious to our presence. “We’ll leave in just a minute,” he murmurs. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart, but once we’re in the car, everything will be alright. I’ll look after you. Nobody will ever hurt you again.”
Chief raises a hand, silently bringing us to a halt just inside the hallway. None of us speaks. Even Trigger manages to hold himself still, although I can hear the quick, shallow rhythm of his breathing beside me. We exchange a brief glance, each of us instinctively listening for the same thing.
There’s the scrape of rubber wheels across polished wood and the soft slosh of liquid as Tyler lifts another jerry can, but Sadie doesn’t make a sound.
Her silence terrifies me. Sadie isn’t the kind of person to sit there silently through all this.
She’s smart, she’d be saying whatever she needs to say to get out of this.
Chief mouths, “slowly.” He points for us to split up, Dash and Trigger nod, peeling off in the other direction to see if they can sneak up on Tyler from behind.
Chief and I begin moving again, each step measured and deliberate. The floorboards are solid oak, but old enough that every now and then one settles beneath our weight with the faintest groan. I wince as the sound seems unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent house.
Tyler abruptly stops talking mid-sentence. Nobody breathes. For a heartbeat, the only sound is the distant ticking of a clock somewhere deeper in the house. Then there’s the slow creak of a wheels turning. I see Chief’s shoulders tense a fraction. Tyler heard us.
Chief nods once, and we round the corner into the living room together.