31. Cale
cale
Istare at the wooden shack in the distance, not seeing any kind of movement or noise to indicate that someone might be inside. Beside me, Knox pulls out his phone, the glare of the screen bright in the rapidly darkening evening.
“You sure this is the right place?” My voice is hushed and eerie in the silence surrounding us.
It’s been about eight hours since Daniels picked Oakley up from school.
That’s how long it took for Knox to track the guy’s car and phone, giving us an approximate location that we narrowed down to a large farm fifteen minutes out of town.
We’re facing the back of the building, not a single light to indicate if anyone might be inside.
We’re on the far edge of the property, having stumbled over the shack out of sheer luck.
Whoever built the cabin must have constructed it without the permits because there’s no record of this place existing anywhere.
Earlier, the cops did their welfare check after leaving Melanie’s, but they said no one answered the door.
There wasn’t enough cause to enter the premises, so they fobbed her off, telling her there was no apparent danger and, until they had further cause for concern, there was nothing they could do.
Instead, they suggested that she get a lawyer and seek an emergency custody order.
It’s infuriating how the system is working against us, especially when it’s something as important as a missing child. I haven’t let myself think about how scared Oakley must be right now. If I do, I’ll lose my fucking mind.
“It looks abandoned,” I mutter, keeping close to the shadow of the towering oak tree beside the fence line.
“I’m sure.” Knox doesn’t look up from his phone.
“And abandoned is the perfect place to hide out, don’t you think?
” He taps out a message before looking at me, pointing at the earpiece he’s wearing.
“Everyone’s ready. Levi’s got the cops on standby, ready to roll in on his signal… as much as they love that.”
I’ve got enough respect for my boss that I’m following Levi’s lead on this, knowing the right thing here is the cops being involved. It’s the best way to keep Oakley safe, but I’m not fucking around. The minute it looks like shit is going south, I’m going rogue to keep that kid safe.
“And they all know the plan?” I confirm—again. “We get Oakley out before anything else. He’s the priority, not their due fucking process.”
“They know,” he says quietly. “Everyone wants him home safe, Cale.”
I scoff. “Considering how much help the cops were today, we might have found them a lot sooner if they’d gotten off their asses and helped.”
“I know. Levi refused to work with anyone but Scott Jerome, knowing he’s one to get shit done.”
“The detective, right?” He nods. I blow out a breath, staring at the building where Oakley might be. “They can’t know we’re here, Knox. They see us coming, they go on the attack. That’s when people get hurt. When Oakley gets hurt.”
“I know, man. We’ve got this, okay? Onyx goes in quietly, scopes the place out. Levi will make the call to Jerome, but if we can get Oakley out before the red-and-blues even turn up…”
I nod slowly. “Once I have my hands on him, I don’t care what else happens.” It’s an honest warning.
Knox acknowledges it with a dip of his chin. “Good. I know you want your pound of flesh, and we’ll make sure you get it. And we know where your heart is.”
As much as it frustrates me, we wait until the sun dips low enough that the encroaching darkness gives us the perfect cover. We pick our way across the grassy field, our moves efficient and silent as we close in on the dilapidated building.
We’re about halfway when headlights cut through the night, wheels crunching against stones as a vehicle comes to a stop out of our sight. Knox and I share a look.
“Who the fuck is that?”
He shakes his head, asking into his earpiece, “Levi?” He falls quiet, listening to the reply, but we never stop moving. “Not one of ours,” he finally tells me. “Not a cop either.”
I curse. “Daniels has company.”
Knox nods grimly, and in silent agreement, we move faster. The added unknown element means the danger of the situation has escalated to critical levels.
The shack is old, probably a hunting cabin or shed that previous landowners erected years ago. The lack of blueprints means we’re going in absolutely blind, but it’s obvious this place was left to rot. The ground has been left to grow wild, weeds climbing the rotten wooden slats of the foundation.
Knox veers left as I round the house, head cocked. I can hear muffled voices coming from inside, low and angry. I reassure myself that none sound like Oakley as I look around the corner, seeing the gray sedan that Daniels was driving earlier and an old pickup truck parked right behind it.
There’s a low bird call, shrill and urgent. I pull back, retracing my steps to where I left Knox, finding him staring at a window in consternation. It’s cracked, the gap just small enough for him to work his fingers through as he tries to pry it open further.
“It’s fucking jammed.” He grunts.
There’s a shuffle, a shoe scuffing against wood, and then a voice drifts out. “Cale?”
Relief swamps me, my heart jolting so hard that it feels like I just got punched in the chest. I step closer, nudging Knox out of the way, peering through the small opening to find Oakley staring back at me, his eyes too wide in his face.
“Killer,” I whisper. “Damn good to see your face, kid.”
There’s dirt on his face and streaks of dried tears on his cheeks. As I watch, more of them slip from his eyes, his mouth trembling.
“You’re here. I knew you would come.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and I force my fingers under the wood window frame, wiggling them until he grabs them with his icy hand.
“Always,” I tell him. Oakley lets out a low, choked sob, and I know we don’t have much time before he loses it completely. “Easy, Killer. We’re getting you out, okay?” My own voice is husky with emotion. “Your mom’s waiting for you.”
He bobs his head, rolling his lips between his teeth, shaking his shoulders. He firms his expression, giving me a determined look. “Okay.”
Knox lowers his voice, speaking directly into my ear. “I break this window, they know we’re here. If we get it open quietly, we can get him out and give the signal for everyone to come in, guns blazing.” I look at him, his jaw tight. “Levi says your kid, your call.”
I don’t need to think about it, ordering quietly, “Move back, Killer. Into one of the corners.” Urgency fills my blood, hating that he’s inside a house with two threats, needing him out and safe in my arms. Whatever is about to go down isn’t going to be good, and I don’t want Oakley anywhere near it.
“You clear?” Knox whispers.
“Clear,” Oakley’s voice is quieter, further away.
I can’t see him now, the room smothered in darkness.
I pull back, both Knox and I grabbing an edge of the window each.
We pull at the flimsy wood, feeling it crack under our strength.
A splinter breaks off, digging viciously into my palm.
I mutter a curse, refusing to let go even as the force of my grip pushes the wood fragment deeper.
The window gives an inch, just as there’s a loud shout in the house. Too close to the door, too close to Oakley, too angry. There’s a thump, a scuffle, and then a metallic clicking that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
My muscles strain as I yank on the window, still trying to be quiet, knowing time is running out. There’s another loud thump, a yell, and then the window comes loose, flying open with a shrill creak.
The gap isn’t massive, but it’s big enough for a small body.
“Killer!” I’m so proud of him as he rushes across the room on silent feet. He scrambles over the sill, and I hook my hands under his arms, dragging him the rest of the way—just as a thunderous boom echoes throughout the house.
Gunshot.
There’s a blood-curdling scream, and Oakley whimpers in my arms, his body shaking against mine, his arms strangling my neck.
“I got you, Oak. I got you.” I look over at Knox. “Do it.”
He gives me one short nod. “Levi, the kid is clear. Shots have been fired.”
Another gunshot rents the air, and I leap into action. Oakley’s weight is heavy in my arms, even when he feels smaller than usual. I don’t let him go, sprinting back across the field and heading for the safety of the trees.
“Cale—”
“Hold on, kid,” I say, breathing heavily as I avoid a rabbit hole, unwilling to risk tripping. I don’t know what’s going down behind me, but I won’t risk losing ground if someone ends up coming after us. My only priority is getting Oakley safe and clear. Nothing else matters.
The world feels too still as we reach the trees. I step behind a large trunk, keeping our bodies hidden as I set Oakley on his feet. He sways, so I steady him with my hands on his shoulders, crouching to meet his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask urgently, my chest bellowing with each breath and sweat coating my skin. “Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head. “I’m cold,” he admits. “And I’m hungry.” His lashes flutter as he blinks at me, a shiver racking his frame. “I want to go home.”
Oakley’s face is stark and scared, his eyes bruised with everything that’s happened. It infuriates me all over again that Daniels could do this to his own goddamn kid…
No.
Not his kid.
Mine. He lost the right to this family a long time ago. I came close to losing them myself, but I woke up really fucking quickly to how bleak my world would be without them in it…and I’m not letting anyone like Davis fucking Daniels hurt them ever again.
I smooth my hands down Oakley’s arms, gently pulling him into a fierce hug. He doesn’t move for a beat, and then he’s hugging me back just as hard.
“I knew you’d come,” he says again. “I knew. I just had to hold on.”
“Always,” I vow, the word filled with sincerity. “I’ll always be there for you, Oakley.”
He nods against my shoulder. “Can we go home now?”
“Yeah, kid. You know what? Your mom made some spaghetti just for you.” I stroke my hand through his hair, over his back, reassuring myself that he’s with me and unhurt, adrenaline still pumping through my veins at how differently this night could have gone.
“I love spaghetti.” The point is punctuated by a loud grumble in his stomach. “Nell got hot chocolate. You think Mom will make me one too?”
I chuckle. “Good priorities. I think your mom will make whatever you ask for.” I set him away from me, checking that no one is following us, and then give him my back. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride to the truck.”
He jumps, throwing his arms around my neck and his legs hooking on my waist. I straighten, feeling the reassuring weight of him as I grip his legs just above the knees.
As we walk, he leans his head against mine. “I didn’t want to go with him.”
“I know.”
“He said he’d hurt Mom.”
I pat his leg. “We figured, Killer. I know you’d do anything to keep your mom safe.”
“So would you,” he says quietly, his voice tired and body sagging heavily against mine. “You’d keep me safe too.”
His hold on my neck grows lax, and I shuffle him upward, hunching slightly to make sure he won’t fall. I don’t know if he’s asleep or what, but I tell him anyway. “Yeah, Killer. That’s something you can count on.”