“Max!”
“Coming!” he finally yells back, his footsteps pounding down the stairs. His backpack is slung over his shoulder and I quickly stuff the lunch I made him inside.
“Dad?”
“Grab a coat, kid. It’s chilly today,” I direct him, yanking my own jacket off the coatrack.
“Dad?”
“Max. Coat.”
The eye-roll is nothing new, but at least he tags the lined flannel jacket Ma got him. “But I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me in the car, okay?”
I don’t mind mornings, but I prefer quiet ones. A challenge with Max, since he likes to fill silence with the sound of his voice. I’m ready to let his usual verbal stream slide off me when I climb behind the wheel, but when he starts talking I’m immediately alert.
“Remember you told me that if ever I felt uncomfortable, I should tell you?”
“Absolutely,” I don’t hesitate answering, looking at my son’s face, pinched with worry.
“There’s this kid in my Fortnite group who’s been weird.”
Since the spring, I’ve allowed Max to play the game online, with a bunch of warnings and restrictions. In the beginning, I would play with him, feeling out some of the kids he’d play with, but the last few months I haven’t had much time. Still, he knows not to give his own name, our phone number, or address, and that if ever anyone makes him feel uncomfortable, to let me know right away.
“Weird how?” I ask, backing out of the driveway.
“I dunno, just weird.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, Max.”
“It’s just...he’s been asking questions. First it was about sports and pets and other things. If I play any, do I have a dog, if I like my school—stuff like that. Then he wanted to know if I had a girlfriend, and when I said no, he asked if maybe I liked boys better.” My blood chills. It sounds like an almost textbook approach for a predator. “That made me feel weird, so I avoided him for a while, but last night when I got on, he was there and wished me a happy belated birthday.” I stop at a light and glance over at him. He’s tense and I can see the worry in his face. “But, Dad, I never told him my birth date, I promise.”
I ignore the urge to grill him with questions—he already seems freaked enough—and instead reach out to ruffle his hair. “I believe you, Kiddo. Maybe stay off the Internet for a while, yeah?” I make a mental note to disconnect Wi-Fi the first chance I get.
“Sure,” he mutters, looking forward but worry still clear on his face.
“Hey...” I draw his attention and force what I hope is a calm smile. “Your old man will take care of it, okay?” I’m rewarded with a little smile in return.
“Yeah, Dad.”
I stop at the school’s drop-off zone and turn to him. “Just stay close to your buds. Okay, Max? You know the drill; we’ve been over it before. And if you’re not sure, or something feels off, call me.”
Being away from home for work regularly, I bought Max a basic cell phone for his ninth birthday. A lot of folks might consider that too young, but it was both for my own peace of mind and his. I programmed it with a handful of numbers: mine, Ma and Clint’s, his other grandma’s, and the office phone. He’s only used it a handful of times, mostly when I was on assignment and he needed to connect for one reason or another.
In my job, I encounter a lot of the bad side of humanity, so I’d started him young instilling basic safety rules. A precaution that paid off, given he came to me with his concerns.
Despite the fact I stopped kissing him in front of his school at his request a few years ago, I tag him behind his neck and pull him in an embrace, pressing my lips to his forehead. He doesn’t struggle, just holds on until I let go. “Love you, Kiddo.”
“Love you too, Dad,” he mumbles getting out of the truck.
Ignoring the impatient honks of waiting parents behind me, I watch as he catches up with a buddy on the sidewalk and walks into the school. Only then do I pull away from the curb, my mind spinning as I aim for the office.
Preoccupied with what Max shared, I hadn’t mentally prepared for what is waiting for me when I walk into the office.
Toni Linden.
She’s changed little these past couple of years. Still packs a punch with that gorgeous California girl look. Long, sleek, blonde and blue-eyed. She used to look hot in uniform, and I guess some might still consider her hot in her FBI getup: white dress shirt and navy pants suit. A bit of a cliché, especially in our mostly relaxed field office, because it’s rare to find any of us in a suit, unless we know we’ve got brass coming.
Her smile is bright when she sees me come in, but it oddly has no impact other than to make me slightly uncomfortable.
“Agent Linden, we meet again.” I stick out my hand, hoping to cut off any unwanted familiarities. My word choice may not have been the best, since Jasper glances at me curiously over his computer screen. “Agent Linden and I had opportunity to work together on a case,” I explain. “Although, she was Officer Linden at the time.”
“Dylan...” she starts, smiling at Jasper before she catches herself. “I mean Agent Barnes is in part what inspired me to switch to federal law enforcement.”
“Is that so?” Jas drawls, and I shoot him a warning glance.
“I have something disturbing come up I may need your help with.” My words work as an adequate distraction since Jasper’s face morphs into Bureau mode. Then I outline my talk with Max earlier. He’s already pounding keys before I’ve even finished talking.
Jasper Greene is our resident technical whiz and cyber intelligence specialist. I’m no slouch, but I don’t hold a candle to the information he’s able to unearth with the help of his computer.
“Fortnite? Fuck. Write down his handle and password.” Jasper shoves a pad in my direction and I sit, jotting down what he asks.
“I’m in the same group. I’ll give you mine as well,” I inform him, adding my 10-CODE handle and password.
“Good. Have you disconnected your router yet?”
“Was going to do that first chance.”
“Go do it now, and bring it back with you, I’m gonna need it.”
“I get the feeling I’m missing something,” I observe, getting a sense of urgency from Jasper that makes me uneasy. The look he throws me only makes it stronger.
“Likely nothing more than coincidence, but twenty minutes before you came in, we received an Amber Alert notification. Twelve-year-old boy missing from Flora Vista. I spoke with the SAC in Farmington, who mentioned the kid was seen going up to his room last night, but wasn’t in his bed this morning. It wasn’t even slept in. The game system in his bedroom was still on. He’d been in the middle of a game when he disappeared.”
“Jesus.” The chill in my veins turns to ice. I almost shrug off the warm hand that lands on my shoulder.
“We should go.” Toni’s gentle voice startles me. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“We?”
“I’m supposed to shadow you my first two weeks,” she clarifies when I push up, dislodging her hand from my shoulder.
“On a job. This is personal,” I bite off, making her wince.
“Like hell,” Jasper interjects. “We’re treating this as an investigation. Toni goes.”
Damian walks in just as I open my mouth to object, and quickly gauges the tension in the office.
“What’s going on?”
“You go,” Jasper reiterates before turning to our boss. “I’ll fill you in.”
I don’t wait for her, but on the way out of the office I snatch the keys to one of the FBI Expeditions in the parking lot. For some reason, I don’t want her ass in my new Bronco.
There’s something about her being here that irks me, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to examine it. I have bigger fish to fry.
MARYA
“I swear I just want to grab him by the ears and shake some sense into him.”
Ke
rry throws me a sympathetic smile.
We’re sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes of books that just came in this morning. Normally a fun job to unpack all the new releases and sorting them on the shelves—which is why Kerry came in to help—but my head isn’t in the game.
Saturday had been a great day as far as the kids were concerned. All three had a good time in Silverton and seemed to get along fine afterward as well.
For me the day had been a tad overwhelming. First of all the interesting developments with Dylan, the hand-holding, the smiles, and finally the hunger of his kiss when he accosted me in the tunnel. But even after, at his place. The almost palpable chemistry between him and me, and the fact his mother seemed to pick up on that, had put me in a fight or flight mode.
To top it all off, Max made that comment about the cake, and as grateful as I was he liked it so much, I was mortified at what he said. I was also furious at Dylan for lying to me, telling me he’d usually grab a store-bought cake. He’s a guy and maybe doesn’t understand how territorial women can get about their baking, but that doesn’t negate the fact he lied.
Not only that, he made me look bad. Had I known his mother normally did the baking, there’s no way I would’ve made that cake. Now it looked like I was trying to steal her thunder.
Even though Beth assured me several times she didn’t mind in the least, and was in total agreement with her grandson, I couldn’t shake feeling embarrassed. Although I did give her the recipe for the layers when she asked, admitting she could bake, but didn’t have a creative bone in her body and sucked at decorating.
Then Sunday had started with another altercation between Liam and his younger brother, this one luckily without fists, but with brutally harsh words. I don’t even know what the fight was about—and it doesn’t really matter—but when Harry told me what Liam had said, I saw red.
“Kids say stupid shit in anger,” Kerry offers. “They don’t mean half of it.”
“I know, but telling his baby brother the only reason their dad left us was because he never wanted another kid, is unbelievably cruel.”
Kerry winces. “Yikes. It’s so hard to wrap my head around him saying something like that. He’s never struck me as a mean kid. Did you ask him why?”
“Of course I asked him, but all I got back was attitude. He claimed not to understand what was so wrong about telling the truth. Apparently he’d overheard his dad and me fighting, and Jeremy had yelled that we never should’ve had another baby.”
“Geezus,” she hisses. “That poor kid.”
“Which one?” I ask, and she looks up at me with an eyebrow raised.
“Both. It was cruel for Liam to throw that at his brother, but can you imagine being a kid and hearing something like that? Not only that, but then holding on to it for five years?” I flinched. All these years, I thought I’d done such a good job shielding the boys from all the ugly shit both before, and after, the dissolution of our marriage. Turns out I hadn’t been so successful. “Did you end up finding out what caused the argument?”
“Yeah, Harry’s game system had frozen so he got on his brother’s while he was in the shower. Liam wasn’t happy when he found out. I ended up punishing him by unplugging his PS4 and tossing it in my bedroom closet.”
“Good for you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know who’s hurting more,” I confess. “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”
Kerry reaches over and gives my arm a squeeze. “He’ll get over it.”
“I hope so.”
Half an hour later, we’ve lined up the last of the new books on the shelves and stand side by side admiring them. “I’m going to have to take a few home,” Kerry mumbles, taking a selection off the shelf.
“I know, I was just thinking the same thing.” I grab for the latest Anna Bishop Barker book. A new favorite of mine.
“I’ve barely seen Damian the last couple of days with that Amber Alert still active,” she says, leading the way to the coffee counter.
“Those poor parents,” I commiserate. “I can’t even imagine what they must be going through.”
I’d assumed it was the news of the missing kid from Vista Flora, just over the New Mexico border, that had kept Dylan busy. I haven’t heard from him since we left his place Saturday night.
“I know. I keep hoping he somehow got lost and someone will find him soon, but it’s already been seventy-two hours. The guys have been working around the clock, but apparently they have very few leads.”
While Kerry breaks down the boxes, I grind some beans for a fresh cup of coffee. Blood pressure be damned. “I need some reinforcement. Want one?”
“Yeah. I could use one too.” Kerry throws me a grateful look.
“It just makes me sick. The thought of that young boy out there, living through God only knows what. And knowing the longer it takes; the less likely it is they find him alive. If that were one of mine—”
Kerry’s hand grabs my wrist firmly.
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”
MY HEAD HAS BARELY hit my pillow tonight when a ping from my phone on the nightstand announces a message.
Dylan: Checking in if you’re ok. Been a crazy week. Again.
Me: I’m good. Amber Alert? So sad.
The phone suddenly rings in my hand.
“Were you sleeping?” Dylan’s tone is gruff with exhaustion.
“Not yet. Kerry tells me you guys have been at it nonstop. You sound tired.”
“I am. Unfortunately, home to sleep tonight. Not that I expect I’ll get much.”
It takes a second for the weight of his words to settle in. When they do, a painful knot forms in my chest and tears well in my eyes. “Oh, no...”
“Yeah,” he confirms in a pained voice. “Woulda gone a month without sleep for just the hope of a different outcome.”
“I bet,” I whisper, sniffling softly.
“Shit, I’m sorry, honey. That was stupid of me. I just wanted to hear your voice...I...I shouldn’t have called. I’ll let you—”
“Don’t hang up,” I interrupt him. “Just talk to me.”
“I can’t. Not about the case, there’s too much...It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“Not about that,” I clarify. “Talk to me about anything else.”
“Max is still at Ma’s. I almost went to pick him up, just so I could hold him close all night to get that image out of my head, but it was already late.”
I hum my understanding, doing my best to mask the sob trying to break free. I can’t even imagine the things he sees in his line of work. Suddenly his thirty-three years don’t seem so young anymore.
“Have you eaten anything?” the mother in me asks, making him chuckle.
“I actually ate a huge piece of leftover cake before I rolled into bed,” he admits, a hint of a smile in his voice
“Hardly a nutritionally balanced meal.”
“Maybe not, but I thought it might feed my craving.” His meaning isn’t subtle, and I know he’s not talking about his sweet tooth. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“Dylan...”
A heavy silence follows, which he breaks by yawning loudly.
“You should try to get some sleep,” I urge him gently.
“I don’t want to hang up,” he whispers, stifling another yawn.
“Then we won’t. Just close your eyes.”
It takes a few minutes before I can hear his breathing even out, and I know he’s fallen asleep.
I wait another ten to make sure before I end the call.
It’s already getting light out when I drift off myself.
CHAPTER 9
Dylan
“Go home.”
I look up from the piles of data on my desk I’ve been digging through for any hints of a lead, to see Damian looming over my desk.
“I’ll head out soon, I’m just finishing these—”
“Barnes,” he says sternly. “I know this one hit close to home, but you’ve had
how many hours of sleep since Monday? We’ll catch the bastard who put Seth Mayer in that ditch, but it won’t help if you collapse on the job. Shut down that computer, go pick up your boy, and go home.”
I take in the copy of the coroner’s report I’ve been squinting at for the past two hours without registering the words. “Fine.”
“You too, Linden,” I hear him say to Toni. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“Yes, sir.”
“Both of you take the weekend. The Farmington office is lead on this, we’re just along for the ride. See you Monday.” With that he turns on his heel and walks out the door.
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Not knowing whether the boy was dead or alive, we barely stopped to take a breath. After finding his poor broken body yesterday morning, sadly speed became less of a concern and a sharp mind was priority. Six hours of sleep in four days does not equate a sharp mind.
Closing the files on my desk, I get up and shrug on my jacket, waiting for Toni to grab her things so I can turn off the lights and lock up the office.
I was surprised I slept at all when I woke up this morning, my cell phone still in my hand. At some point Marya must’ve hung up and I wonder if she’d managed to get to sleep herself. I texted a quick thank you, and a few hours later got back you’re welcome.
“Why don’t we have a quick dinner?” Toni suggests, following me down the stairs and out the door to the parking lot. “We still have some catching up to do.”
I grind to a halt, turning to her in disbelief. “You’re shitting me, right?” The look on her face tells me she’s not kidding. Un-fucking-believable. I’ve spent the past days trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that Toni’s arrival in Durango is not exactly by chance. Wasn’t hard to do since the case claimed everyone’s attention. “Look,” I try for a more modified tone. “I’m not sure what you want. We had a brief thing in Denver, which—as I explained up front—could be nothing more than casual. You knew, you agreed, and then you went and...”
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 7