Time is a blur, a broken-up movie. I miss whole stretches of what happens next. One moment I’m talking to the middle-aged cop, and then next I’m inside the house, the kids crying in my arms.
Then I’m slathering peanut butter and jelly on slices of bread for them to eat—and suddenly I’m sitting with them on the sofa, John in a chair across from me.
“Hansen. Are you with me?”
I stare back at him, forcing my mind back into the game. “What?”
“I said I know you’re in a bit of a shock. Today has been a rollercoaster of a day.”
No shit. “Do you… did you find out how…?”
Hell. And I was in the next room. Again.
“We think we have an idea. Cane and Jameson say they didn’t see anyone approach the house, except another cop. They thought it was Every, but turns out Every was sent to Octavia’s mother’s house.”
“He dressed up….?” Jesus. “Fucking hell, man. Find her.”
“We will. We’re searching Jeff Adams’s motel room for any clues we might have missed. Calling everyone who knows him. We have cars patrolling the streets, asking anyone who might have seen them.”
Right. Not likely.
“He’ll probably give us clues,” John says, reading my mind. “Looks like it’s his MO.”
“Unless he doesn’t want us to find her so soon,” I whisper. “Unless he wants to hurt her.”
Mary is crying. Cole is sobbing.
God fuck, this isn’t good. The kids shouldn’t be hearing this shit, shouldn’t be put through this.
But Octavia isn’t here to take care of them.
Because she’s the one missing.
“Listen,” John says, and I do my fucking best to pay attention. “We’ll find her. She’ll be fine.”
But I’m done with people promising what they can’t deliver.
It’s time to take things in my own hands.
And time to make some phone calls that had been a long time coming.
It’s late at night when my doorbell rings. Close to midnight. I’ve been sitting in the armchair, staring at the TV. It’s off, the screen dark.
The kids are asleep on the sofa because no way am I leaving them alone in another room. My eyes keep closing, and I keep starting awake, terrified they’ve been taken away from me.
The doorbell rings again, finally registering.
I shoot out of my seat and go check through the peephole, blink at the persons standing outside.
Stepping back, I open the door and let them in. “Kaden.” I nod at my brother. And then, “Mom.”
She looks… older somehow, although it’s only been a few weeks. More fragile, more stooped. More sad.
I open my arms and she comes and hugs me. “My Matt,” she whispers, and it makes my eyes hot and my chest tight. “Missed you. How are my babies?”
“Missed you, too,” I tell her, and I realize it’s true. I ran from her and from everything, but it wasn’t her fault. “The kids are asleep.”
I pull back to nod at the sofa, and I’m not surprised when she lets go and heads that way to check on them.
“Hey, man.” Kaden reaches for my hand, but I pull him in for a man-hug. “Long time no see.”
Yeah. After we talked at Christmas, I stopped taking his calls. Barely replied to his text messages.
He looks good, his blond hair pulled back, his cheeks scruffy, blue eyes bright. A spitting image of our father. “How’s your girlfriend? What was her name… Hailey?”
Funny how I remember such details at a time like now when everything else is dark.
“Uh, yeah. She’s okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “We’re not… we had some problems.”
Shit. “Sorry, K.”
I vaguely remember that he was accused of misdemeanor or some shit like that last year. He was acquitted, but his social and work reputations had suffered.
Then he found his girl and was happy, until it apparently fell through.
That’s how it always is. Life gives you sugar, distracting you, and then fucking mows you over.
“Any news about your girl?” he asks, and I shake my head. He slaps my shoulder. “We’re here now. Go get some sleep.”
As if I can do that, knowing that motherfucker has Octavia.
“There are police parked all around your house,” he goes on. “They’re camped in your garden, dude. Nobody can get through this time.”
But it’s too late. He got her.
The question is, how do I find her?
Sitting in a chair by the window, I drift in and out of sleep, my cell phone cradled against my chest. Dawn is breaking when it buzzes with a message.
Rubbing a hand over my eyes, I check the text.
It just says, “Open the door, fucker.”
That can only be one person, and for a moment, I forget myself and grin. Pushing to my feet, I walk past the kids and my mom asleep on the sofa, and Kaden curled in my armchair. After checking quickly, I unlock the door and open it wide.
Zane.
He’s my adopted brother. Well, Emma’s adopted brother. And he’s family like few people are.
He lifts his chin in greeting, his blue Mohawk surreal in the gray morning light. Son of a bitch looks scary, his gaze intense and his big shoulders tense. “Matt.”
I grab him in a hug before he says another word. “Jesus.”
“No, I actually go by Zane these days.”
I thump his back, stopping myself from laughing because it’s a thin line between laughter and crying. I can’t afford to break down now, while Octavia needs me.
He seems to sense something because he draws back. “We’re here to help any way we can.”
That’s when I notice another guy stepping up onto the porch, a cop trailing him. “Rafe Vestri.”
The owner of the tattoo shop where Zane works, and one of his closest friends. I nod at the cop to let him know it’s okay and shake hands with Rafe.
“You guys must be beat,” I tell them, rubbing at my chest. Morning time and still no news, goddammit. “Did you drive all night?”
Zane nods. “We took turns. And now we’re here to kick some ass and help you find your girl.”
Just like Kaden said it.
My girl.
I don’t remember telling them that part when I called them yesterday. I may have.
Or maybe they heard it in my voice when I said her name.
“You okay with this?” I ask quietly, somehow finding the presence of mind to ask.
Okay that I’ve replaced his adopted sister with another woman?
“I’m here, right?” He shoots me a long look I can’t read. “It was about time you started living again, man.”
I nod gratefully.
“What do we need to do?” Rafe asks, raking a hand through his blond hair. “Want us to go talk to the police with you? We’ve got experience with that. Zane here can charm all sorts of info from them.”
“No shit?” I squint at Zane with his bulky arms and aggressive hairdo and pierced eyebrow. “When did you have to go to the police?” Suddenly I realize I have no clue how Zane’s life has been the last three years. “Did something happen?”
Zane shakes his head like I’m a hopeless case and elbows Rafe. “Now is not the time for this. Though I gotta show you pictures of my kid.”