Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 30


Emma was frustrated. She couldn’t find her phone. It had been missing since class. After searching through her backpack and her purse, as well as her car, she’d given up and decided to get her mind off of it by watching a movie. She figured if she wasn’t thinking about it, it might come to her where she’d put it.

They were barely five minutes into the movie when her plan worked. She knew just where her phone was. Excitedly, she bopped Rickey on the head—actually, on the top of his baseball cap. “It worked! I remember!” she exclaimed. “Get up! Come with! Hurry!”

Emma wanted her phone, wanted it bad. But it was dark. She was glad she’d have company for the drive over to get it.

She turned off the TV and slipped on her sneakers. Within a few minutes, she was ready to go. She’d been hoping Dusty would call, and maybe he had. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow to check, even if that meant another late night before school. She just had to know if he had tried to call before she saw him in the morning. And if he had called, she hoped to get a few minutes of privacy to call him back before it got too late and he went to bed.



Emma was stoked. He called! He likes me! she sang in her head, feeling like a child with her first crush.

She erased the smile off of her face, trying to hide her excitement from Rickey, who stood there watching her check her phone. She’d found it right where she’d left it, on Gabby’s front porch. She’d stopped by after work for just a few minutes to welcome Jake home, but no one had answered the door. She had laid it down when she’d picked up a wooden footstool Gabby kept in front of one of her rockers—meaning to use it as a step to peek in the garage window. She wanted to see if Jake’s truck was in the garage so she’d know whether Gabby was home—maybe just busy welcoming Jake home herself. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt them by phone or doorbell on Jake’s first day back. But if they weren’t busy, she wanted to see if they needed anything. She’d quietly checked the garage first, and the truck had been gone. Disappointed, she’d left without remembering to go back and get her phone. Duh!

Emma saw a light on in the house and rang the doorbell. “May as well say hello since we’re all the way out here, okay?” she mumbled, mostly to herself. She wasn’t looking for agreement. She had to go in. She needed to pee, and it looked like Dusty had left her a message. She wanted to hear it in private.

No one answered the door. That was strange. Emma glanced toward the garage window, seeing the footstool still under it where she’d left that too. But the garage was dark. She wouldn’t be able to see Jake’s truck if it was in there.

She knocked loudly. Maybe they didn’t hear the bell?

Still no answer.

Emma bounced from one foot to the other while she dialed Gabby’s number. It rang straight to voicemail. It must be off. Emma left her a silly message, giving her warning she was coming in... ready or not. She had to pee, and it was too long a ride back home to hold it.

She dug out the hidden key and let herself in. The house seemed heavy with silence. She could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen and the ticking of a clock, but not much else. Gabby and Jake’s bedroom door was closed. She excused herself and headed toward the bathroom, taking her phone with her.

Emma barely got her pants down and sat on the pot before responding to Dusty’s message. She texted: WYD? I just got your msg. R U up?

She set her phone on the counter and finished up. She flushed and stood to wash her hands. She waved them in the air to dry—Gabby didn’t have a hand towel hanging—and then resorted to rubbing them down the front of her pants before picking up her phone again and swiping the screen, looking for a return message; maybe she just didn’t hear the alert.

Damn. No text, Emma thought. Should I call him?

She turned around and sat on the counter for a minute, thinking it through. No... if I call him right after I texted him, he’ll think I’m desperate. And I can’t talk to him in front of Rickey anyway. That would be weird.

Her mind made up, she opened the door, flicked off the bathroom light, and walked back into the den only to find Rickey had fallen asleep sitting on Gabby’s couch, his head leaned over at a weird angle with his mouth hanging wide open. Emma chuckled. Damn, I was in there less than five minutes!

Still smiling, she realized now she could try to call Dusty with privacy. But first, she wanted to see if Gabby and Jake were home so she could stop sneaking around their house.

Too scared to knock on their bedroom door and risk embarrassment—for either party—she tiptoed through the kitchen toward the garage. She turned on the light and opened the door, fully expecting to see Ruby. Where else would they all be? She was surprised to see an empty garage. Maybe they went out and had a late supper and caught a movie? Seems like that might be a bit too much for Jake, but who knows? Maybe he was itching to get out.

She shut the door loudly—forgetting about Rickey—and walked back into the den fully expecting him to have woken up and be ready to go, but he was still asleep. Good. I’ll just sneak out to the front porch and call Dusty. I’ll only talk for a few minutes. Then I can wake him up and we’ll go. She needed to get home; class was going to come early tomorrow.

Emma stepped out to the porch and sat in the rocking chair. She dialed. It rang once. Her heartbeat quickened. Two rings... Now she felt panicky. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me? Three rings... He probably didn’t return the text for a reason. Maybe he’s with someone else. Voicemail. Shit! She hung up at the beep, not knowing what to say.


“Idiot!” Emma hissed out loud to herself. “That was stupid. Now he’s going to see a text, then a hang-up on a missed call from you. He’s going to think you’re a stalker, Einstein.”

She needed to wake Rickey. He’d want to go home—he hadn’t seemed too enthused about riding over here to start with, he’d had a long day too. But if Dusty called her back now, she wouldn’t be able to have a private conversation after all, and how would she explain that to Dusty? Sorry, I can’t talk right now... after I just texted you and called you! Yeah, right. She turned it off. Better he get my voicemail if he tries than to be told I can’t talk. Maybe he’s just asleep anyway. She’d just have to wait and see him in class tomorrow. She turned around to peek in the window. Rip Van Winkle is still out! She laughed at the little bit of drool she saw clinging to his chin. He really is in a bad position. I should wake him.

Emma looked at her watch and frowned. I wonder where Gabby and Jake are this late? Now that she had her phone back, she could call Olivia and ask if she knew, but most likely, Olivia was asleep already. She usually started her workday at six in the morning. She’ll kill me if I wake her up just to be nosy about Jake and Gabby.

A few more minutes won’t hurt him in there. I’ll just wait a little longer to see if they come home. She looked out over the yard and noticed something hanging from Gabby’s swing. She wandered over, after placing her phone on the bottom step. She didn’t have any pockets. She wished she’d changed out of her tank top into something else before coming out. She was still wearing her work clothes: yoga pants, a tank top, and sneakers, with her hair pulled into a high ponytail.

How sweet! Someone tied long ribbons to the ropes. Probably Jake... looks like something he’d do, always the romantic, Emma thought wistfully. She hoped one day she’d marry a man that loved her as much as Jake loved Gabby.

She hoisted herself up onto the swing and sat swaying back and forth. It was September, still hot during the day and comfortable at night, usually. But for some reason tonight, she felt a chill in the air.

She leaned way back on the swing, letting her ponytail nearly touch the ground. She could see dozens of stars in the sky; it was so peaceful out here by herself at night. No wonder Gabby loves this swing. She pulled herself up in a swift movement, feeling a funny flutter in her stomach from the quick up-down-up. She laughed and did it again, remembering how as a little girl she used to do the same thing on the swings in the schoolyard—they all had. She was surprised that even as a grownup, she still felt that swoopy feeling.

She leaned back again and pulled on the swing ropes, trying to gain some momentum. It was no use; the rope was too long to get the swing really moving without someone pushing, but it was still a nice place to sit, feeling weightless, giving the ropes sideways twists to keep it swaying.

She heard a twig snap. She couldn’t tell how far away. Her mind had been busy thinking and she’d barely noticed it. She peered over her shoulder but didn’t see anything. Probably just a squirrel or something in the woods, she thought.

Gabby had told her many times the woods surrounding her house were kept busy at night; she’d seen deer, raccoons, and even possums sometimes show themselves as they crossed her front yard to get the other side of the woods. The house sat on the front acre of their five-acre tract. Behind it was four acres of nothing but woodlands.

The moon was shining bright and she was surrounded by a harmony of night noises: crickets, tree frogs, and other unrecognizable sounds. She only knew they came from the woods and only at night. She heard the hoot of an owl.

She loved her little apartment, but one day she wanted to have a place out in the country like this, a big slice of land left mostly full of woods, except for the small yard around the house. She’d open her windows every night and let the night sounds sing her to sleep.

Emma stilled herself, waiting to hear the owl again. That was just so cool. She wanted to hear it one more time before she left. She called out to the owl, “Who! Who!”

A loud voice answered, “Me.”

Emma grabbed a rope with one hand and jumped off the swing, turning in the air before she landed on the ground, facing the voice with her feet spread apart and the wooden swing seat still in her hand. She swung it back to land directly in front of her and grabbed it loosely with both hands.

“Who the hell are you?” she spat. The light from the front window shone on him. He was a good-looking guy, clean khaki pants, nice shirt, stylish haircut... Looked like a young, clean-cut office guy to her. But she didn’t appreciate anyone sneaking up on her like that. He’s only a few feet away from the steps to the house, dammit. He must have freakin’ tiptoed over here, she thought. Her heart rate spiked.

“The question is who are you?” he asked in a tight, strained voice. “You look just like Gabby but smaller,” he said as his eyes took in all of her. “You must be her twin. You could be identical if you were taller, but you’re not.” He smiled at Emma, a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He waited for an answer, but Emma refused to give him one. She was waiting him out, trying to get a feel for who he was and what he wanted.

“Aww, you must’ve been the runt,” he teased. His eyes were cold.

She shuddered. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She fought the urge to let go of the swing and reach back there to stop the uncomfortable tickle crawling down her skin. She rolled her shoulders instead, trying to stay loose.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want to talk to me?” he asked in a creepy singsong voice, taking one step forward.

Emma took a step backward, glancing up at the house first, measuring the distance between her and the front door and him and the front door. He’d win easily. Should I answer him? Ask him if he’s a new friend of Jake’s? Maybe I just keep quiet and he’ll go away. I’ve never seen him before... This dude is putting off an epic bad vibe. Shit!

“I came to see Gabby. I thought you were her at first, from far off. But the tattoo... It’s wrong. My uncle said it was on her right shoulder. Your dragonfly’s in the middle of your back.”

He ran his hands over his face. Emma took the chance to look at the front door and window again, then back at him.

Now he was frowning. He squished his eyebrows together and rubbed his finger between them on his forehead, seemingly confused.

“Actually, this seems fairer anyway. I lost someone I loved,” he said, apparently to himself, as he had stopped looking at Emma and seemed to be studying the ground. He took two more steps toward Emma and she was ready for him. She gripped the wooden seat and with both hands and with all her strength, she reared back and flung it.

Bullseye! He fell to the ground, holding his injured head, and Emma could see blood seeping through his fingers. She jumped back to avoid the swing’s wild arc back to her and to put more distance between herself and the man on the ground.

The swing was twisting and swinging crazily on its rope.

When he looked back up at Emma, his eyes were open wide—wild—and he shook his head from side to side as if he were fighting off a daze. His face was full of rage. Emma had hoped it would knock him out long enough to give her time to get in the house and lock the door, but she had overestimated the damage she could do. She’d never have time to make it in now.


“You godforsaken whore! You’ll pay for that,” he hissed, seething with fury, struggling to get back up to his feet. He was at least a little off balance. Maybe that would give her a head start.

Emma glanced up to the house—she saw movement in the window—and then turned and ran straight for the woods bordering the side of Gabby’s yard, looking over her shoulder to be sure he saw exactly where she went in. “Bring it, a*shole!” she yelled as she took her first leap into the brush.





Gabby startled awake with a gasp, propping herself up on her elbows, pulling the sheet and blanket with her, trying to focus her eyes in the darkness. She squinted into the corner; she couldn’t see a thing.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Jake asked in a muffled voice. Apparently he had already fallen asleep. He sounded like he was still half asleep.

“I thought I saw my mom. I guess it was a dream,” Gabby whispered. “But she seemed so real...”

Jake cleared his throat and sat up. “Gabby, we’ve only been here thirty minutes. I know you did the drivin’, but I’m tuckered out, girl. Can you go back to sleep?” Jake asked hopefully.

They’d driven the three hours to the beach without stopping. Jake had made reservations using Gabby’s phone and they checked in and turned in immediately, barely taking the time to properly get ready for bed. At least their teeth were brushed. Gabby had felt so much safer—away from the house—that she’d fallen asleep immediately.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Jake. Go back to sleep.”

Jake lay back down. Her eyes felt drawn to that dark corner, but she couldn’t see a thing with the blackout curtains of the hotel, and they hadn’t left a single light on.

I guess that answers that. I can’t see a ghost in the pitch dark... Must’ve been a dream, she thought. She too snuggled back down in the bed, squeezing up close to Jake, feeling the heat off of him flush her skin. She closed her eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep quickly. But she couldn’t. Something picked at her, keeping her eyes open but staring into a blank wall of darkness—in that same corner. She couldn’t stop looking back to the same corner, as if something were drawing her attention there.

Okay. I’ll turn on the lamp. Then I can see there is nothing there and go back to sleep, Gabby thought to herself. She pulled away from Jake very slowly—he was already snoring quietly again—and eased herself up without disturbing the bed. She fumbled around the lamp quietly with her fingertips, looking for the switch. Finally, she found it and turned it on.

She turned quickly toward the corner. Nothing there except two empty chairs and a small round table where they’d piled some of their stuff when they came in. Gabby almost laughed at her silliness, except she still could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Something was wrong—she could feel it. She thought about her dream... Mom was wringing her hands as if she were worried. It’s just a dream, Gabby. Go back to sleep, she silently told herself.

Gabby lay back down but left the light on. She knew her brain wouldn’t let her go back to sleep right now. She stared at the corner while she went back over what she’d told Jake. Between all the weird, random things happening to her and now dreaming of Mom, Gabby felt like maybe she needed to call her doctor tomorrow and talk to him. Maybe he could prescribe something. Maybe she was making more of this than there should be and freaking out over nothing.

Gabby wished her mom would appear again. She could shoot straight with her—at least she had been able to for the last five years or so... Her mom wouldn’t think she was foolish. She’d always believed in signs and fate—and even fairies. Gabby choked back a quiet laugh that threatened to turn into a sob. She couldn’t grieve for Mom right here and now; she knew once she started back up, she’d be loud and most likely hysterical. Then Jake would wake up again, and he really needed his rest. He deserved to sleep after spending six weeks at the hospital, only to come home and be there less than one day before having to get out of Dodge with Gabby. He was seriously tired.

She held her breath; sometimes that worked as a dam to hold back emotion until she could shake it off. She thought about Mom and all her stories she shared with them after her illness. Crazier things had happened to her. Gabby thought back on the story they used to love to hear Mom tell, where she and Dad were just kids themselves, with three children, stuck way out in the country during a typical Midwest snowstorm.

It was almost Thanksgiving and they didn’t have much food. They were broke—flat busted broke. Dad wasn’t even sure he had enough gas to make it into town, even if the old car they were driving could get through the snow. He and Mom worried for days they wouldn’t have enough food to last until the storm stopped and the roads cleared. On Thanksgiving, they heard a knock on the door. When they answered it, there was no one there. But in the snow on the front stoop was a basket full of food: a turkey, potatoes, veggies, and even a pie... all the fixing’s for a Thanksgiving dinner. Mom had said she never heard a car and she truly believed it was angels. She’d always said her proof was the absence of footprints in the smooth, unblemished snow.

Yeah, if Mom believed in angels on Earth, she would believe in warnings and signs. If she could, she’d probably come back right now to tell me everything’s okay, or warn me if they weren’t...

Gabby scrambled to an upright position again, startling Jake out of his sleep yet again.

“Jake! I know now... Mom was warning me! She’s trying to tell me something,” Gabby whispered loudly.

“Gabby, seriously? I love you, girl... but you’ve got to let it rest. You wanted to leave—we left. Can we get a good night’s sleep and talk about it tomorrow?” Jake reasoned with his face half buried in his pillow.

“But what if tomorrow is too late? I swear, Jake. I feel like the dream was Mom warning me about... something!”

“Okay, Gabby.” Jake sat up, squinting against the intrusion of the lamp. He rubbed his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, Jake!” Gabby whined and hated herself for it. “But I can’t sleep feeling like this.”

Jake sighed. “Gabby, just tell me. Is this about that French bastard? Is it him you’re scared of? That I can deal with. I’ll kill the bastard if I have to. But I can’t deal with I don’t know.”

Gabby felt like she’d been struck. She shook her head from side to side. Jake had prompted her memory; now it all made sense.

“What?” Jake asked. “What is it?”

“He’s dead, Jake. René is dead.”

“How can you know that?”

Gabby ran her hands over her face in disbelief that she hadn’t put it together before now. He’d outright told me in so many words. The flowers were France’s national flower... his uncle had killed himself after a ruined marriage... and then told me I should know. It was Tom. It had to be. He’s René’s nephew, even though his name isn’t French—isn’t Tom a German name? That’s probably why I didn’t connect the two. It’s the only thing that makes sense, she thought.

She told Jake about her encounter with Tom, methodically stating only the facts but excited at finally piecing it together. She felt the fear melt away now that she knew... and there were three hours’ drive time between them. Obviously, René had told Tom about her tattoo and painted her as the other woman in a torrid affair rather than his victim. Tom was screwing with her mind, probably for revenge for his uncle losing his wife and taking his own life. There was no telling how far he would take it if he was related to René. Crazy does breed crazy, Gabby thought.


Jake was furious. He got up and paced the room, hobbling and limping with his bum leg. “Great day, Gabby! How could you just remember this? If you’d’ve told me this at home, I coulda handled him then.” He shook his head.

Gabby sat very still. It was rare to see her husband angry.

He blew out a breath between his teeth. “Okay, honey. I’m sorry if I sounded mad. We’ll just have to go back and deal with the sorry sack of shit,” Jake said, the droop of his shoulders giving away his lack of energy. Gabby squeezed her brows together. She hated putting Jake through this.

“Jake, wait a minute. What if he doesn’t know? What if René gave him a jacked-up story hoping he’d take revenge on me? Maybe if you talk to him and tell him what really happened, he’ll understand,” Gabby said.

“People like him—men like him—they don’t understand reason, Gabby. If he was willing to listen to reason, he would’ve asked you about it before plantin’ dead bugs in my truck or bringing you France’s friggin’ flowers and writing that card. The guy is whacked!” Jake yelled, though not at Gabby, just at the frustration of it all.

He sat down at the little table and picked up Gabby’s phone. It was off. He held down the button to power it up, and while he waited, he told Gabby, “I’m not waiting ‘til tomorrow. I’m calling Jerry now. I know his cell number. Jerry’ll have him in his office first thing in the morning, and if he admits to the flowers—or the dragonflies—I’m calling the cops. Like we shoulda done on his psycho uncle years ago.”

She leaned back against the headboard, crossing her arms against her chest, feeling relieved. See, I’m not crazy, she thought and smiled. It felt wrong to be so happy just to have figured out someone was stalking her, possibly someone as unhinged as René, too. But she felt validated.

Still, what about the dream? Is that normal during grieving? Do people dream about their loved ones when they die? If so, why does she look worried instead of happy and free?

“Hey, Gab... your phone is showing a voicemail. Do you want to check it before I call Jerry?” Jake asked, reaching over to hand the phone to Gabby.

“Sure.”

Gabby’s face lost all color as she listened to Emma’s voicemail. She pulled the phone from her ear, frantically tapping the button for a timestamp. It was left two hours ago. She dialed Emma’s number, hoping she wasn’t waking her for nothing. It rang several times before rolling into voicemail. Gabby hung up and dialed again... and again.

“What? Who was it?” Jake asked.

“It was Emma. She was at our house and now she’s not answering her phone. Jake, I think Mom was trying to tell me to check my phone! That’s why I saw her there—or dreamed her there—beside the table. What if she was trying to warn us? We’ve got to get back right now!”

Gabby jumped out of the bed, ready to roll, when Jake grabbed her arm. “Wait a durn minute, Gabby,” he said in a firm and slow voice. “You had a dream. You saw your mom. Let’s not get to drawin’ seriously wild conclusions just yet.” He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. “It may have been just a dream.” He kissed the top of her head while squeezing her to him.

“No, Jake. I think it’s more. I want to go home. Please,” Gabby whispered against his chest, pleading. This is my baby sister. Shit just got serious. We’ve got to get back home.

“Try calling the house phone,” Jake suggested.

Duh! Gabby grabbed for her phone again, quickly dialing their home number. “It’s busy. Maybe she’s using our phone.”

Jake slapped himself on the forehead.

“Shoot, Gabby. I left the phone off the hook. It’s in the drawer next to the bed. I’m sorry. I forgot all about it when you came home all upset.”

Gabby shook her head. “We’ve got to go home, Jake.”

Jake pulled her to him, snuggling her up against his chest.

“Gabby, we’re too far to help if there really is a problem. We can call the police station and have them drive by the house. They’ll see if Emma’s car is there, and if it is, they’ll check on her. Maybe she fell asleep waitin’ for us to get home. Or maybe she went on home herself and she’s asleep there. Let’s not go off halfcocked just yet, okay?” Jake said soothingly.

Gabby shook her head from side to side. “You don’t understand. My doctor already thinks I barely made it back from the edge. If we’re wrong about Tom and send the police on a wild goose chase, he may hear about it. He can put me back in under observation if he thinks I’m conjuring this up in my mind. He will, Jake.”

Jake shook his head too. He seemed stumped. He was exhausted; Gabby could clearly see that. And he was probably hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with this once they were out of town. Gabby felt bad. There was no peace for Jake until this was all settled. “There’s got to be someone we can call.”

Gabby grabbed her purse. “There is.” She started digging and came out with a card. The card that Dusty had left on her counter after he’d spent the night and then she’d left for the graveyard the next morning. She turned the card over. It said, “Just in case you need me again, call my cell.” She took the phone from Jake and dialed, hoping with all her heart he was still awake.



“Whuh?” Dusty slurred into the phone. “Who is this?”

He hadn’t recognized Gabby’s number when it came across because he’d never entered her as a contact. He’d been holding his phone in one hand, hoping Emma would try just once more to call, and a beer in the other. He’d come straight home from Emma’s, where he’d seen her and someone’s shadow dancing on the wall, and started drinking. Not a common occurrence with Dusty, but then again, it wasn’t often he got his heart broken either.

He’d seen Emma’s message come across earlier and then she had called. His pride hadn’t let him answer it. Still mad or hurt—hell if he knew what he was supposed to be feeling—but whatever it was, he hadn’t wanted to talk to her after seeing her with someone else, and he couldn’t just come out and ask her. They weren’t officially going out. She hadn’t exactly said she wasn’t seeing anyone, but she had specifically said she didn’t date much. That means she’s not going out with anyone, doesn’t it? Then she’s a liar. Dusty’s mind had scrambled through a cycle of confusing feelings. Love, pain, wanting, hurt, and the front runner... jealousy, fueled by Bud Lite. But after that had worn off, he’d fallen asleep with his phone in his hand, telling himself if she called again, he’d answer, if only to ask her if she’d been with Rick. Not knowing was worse than anything. But she hadn’t called again, and he’d been too proud to call her back.

“This is GABBY! Emma’s sister,” Gabby yelled again, not realizing raising her voice wouldn’t make him understand her any better. He was just barely on the drunken side of drinking; one more and he’d be there.

“And why you calling me?” Dusty asked for the second time, trying to wrap his head around what Gabby had said and failing.

“Because. Emma went to my house and called me from there. She won’t answer her phone now and I think something’s wrong,” Gabby explained, trying to talk slowly so she wouldn’t have to repeat herself yet again. “I’m out of town.”


“Call the cops!” Dusty blurted out. Then he laughed.

He turned it into an embarrassed cough.

“Oops, sorry. Um, some misplaced emotion there.” He cleared his throat, hoping to swallow down the inappropriate laughter that always came after he’d been stress drinking, which wasn’t often but usually ended in embarrassment.

“Dusty! I can’t call the cops. Please. You left your card on my counter with a note if I ever needed you again to call. Well, I need you... and so does Emma. Please go out there and check on her?” Gabby pleaded, hoping he was sober enough to handle this.

“She doesn’t need me. She’s got Rickey.” Dusty scoffed, unnecessarily stretching out the nickname of his nemesis and ending the statement with his nose wrinkled and his lip curled up. He couldn’t believe Emma would choose that tool over him. Seriously. My ego may never recover, he thought to himself.

“For God’s sake, Dusty. Rickey can’t help her if she’s facing a lunatic. Get real. Are you going or not?” Gabby asked impatiently, her voice sounding flabbergasted.

Dusty paused before answering. Gabby’s words finally sank in. Rick couldn’t help her. Of course he can’t. He’s a freakin’ wuss. That’s why big sister’s calling me. He felt his chest puff up and gave a solid nod of his head, even though Gabby couldn’t see him. “I’ll go,” he answered.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Dusty. Please hurry.”

“I will,” Dusty answered. “I’ll call you when I find her.”

He ended the call with Gabby and immediately dialed Jump. As he waited for the call to connect and ring, he turned on the cold water in the sink. He needed to get sober quick. He was ready for his dunking when Jump picked up on the first ring—of course he did. “Hey, Dust! What’s up, dude?”

“I need ya to drive me somewhere, Jump. Come get me... quick.”