“Who? Your ex? The woman you work with? The same one who was in my kitchen yesterday, making sure I knew she’d been in your bed? At least I fucking hope it’s past tense.”
I was wrong to think seeing him wince would give me some satisfaction. It doesn’t.
“Yes, it fucking is,” he hisses, before taking a deep breath in as he runs his hand through his hair. I only now notice the strain on his face. The dark shadows under his eyes and the scruff that’s almost grown into a beard over the past days on his chin. “I met her in Denver, a few years ago, when I was there working a case. It was casual. That’s all it was supposed to be. She had other ideas. A few weeks ago she showed up here, no longer a cop, but an FBI agent assigned to our office for three months. I don’t know how she finagled that, but it was clear early on she has an agenda.”
“You didn’t tell me.” My tone is accusatory. Jealousy is a ridiculous emotion and yet my stomach is churning with it.
“It’s not like I’ve had much opportunity to,” he snaps back, before once again taking a deep breath. “Look, I know I should’ve, but aside from the abductions, dealing with one crisis after another with your douchebag ex, and rarely having any time to ourselves without kids around, there hasn’t really been a good moment to bring it up.”
This time it’s me wincing. “She warned me you didn’t like kids to complicate your life. She—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence. Dylan is on his feet, and his coffee splatters the wall by the stairs where he pelted it. “Fucking bitch!”
I clutch my pillow a little tighter as I watch him stalk back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands in white-knuckled fists by his side. Suddenly, he stops in front of me; his eyes squinting and a thick vein throbbing on his forehead.
“What. Did. She. Say?”
He enunciates each word with careful control, and although he makes a threatening figure, I instinctively know his anger is not aimed at me.
Still, I keep the pillow in front of me when I answer. “She said when she got pregnant, you made it clear you had no interest in more kids and insisted she get an abortion.”
Instead of the explosion I expect, Dylan sinks down on the coffee table, head bent and his fingers clutching his hair.
When he lifts his eyes, the pain I see reflected there knocks the breath right out of me.
DYLAN
“How could she?”
Marya’s voice wobbles as her eyes fill with tears and her fingers curl into the pillow she’s been clutching in her lap.
“Fuck if I know. People do fucked-up shit all the time. A lot of the stuff I see in my job is incomprehensible, and I’ve given up trying to understand their motivation.”
She lets go of the pillow and reaches for my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault, Sweetheart.” I smile at her but she shakes her head.
“I can’t believe I allowed her to get under my skin, let her push all the right buttons, when I should’ve known better. That’s what I’m sorry for, that she managed to shake my confidence in the good man I know you are.”
Jesus, but that feels good. I lean over and kiss her lightly on the lips. This time she doesn’t turn away and that feels fucking great too.
“She played me too, babe. She’s good at figuring out weak spots and aims straight for them. She’s also a great actress, but she overplayed her hand last night.”
“How so?”
I outline the confrontation with Toni in the office last night, resulting in Damian sending her home. It had meant some reshuffling this morning so we’d still have two teams chasing down leads. Luna was hitting all the geographic locations Jasper had been able to connect SoccerLord to, with Keith Blackfoot as her backup. They’ll be showing Berger’s picture we downloaded from the DMV site. Damian and I are visiting as many of the kids in the under-twelve soccer league as we can after school is out. At least those whose names we were able to link up with the online Fortnite group. First one on Damian’s list is Liam.
“Talked to your mom first thing this morning,” I mention and watch her eyebrows lift. “Wanted to warn her about the DPD patrol car parked in front of her house. It’s just a precaution,” I quickly add when I see alarm on Marya’s face. “They’ll be at the school and following the boys on the bus home. Until we get a bead on Jeremy anyway.”
“Okay.”
I’m about to launch into the next thing I need to discuss with her when I hear a key being turned in the door lock and Lydia walks in, her arms full of groceries.
“Hey, Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Coming to look after my daughter, what do you think I’m doing here? Didn’t your man tell you?”
I can feel Marya giving me the evil eye.
“Was about to get around to that, Lydia,” I tell her mother, who shrugs and makes her way into the kitchen, dumping the bags on the counter.
“Well, never mind me then, I’m just gonna put some things away. Pretend I’m not here.”
I bite off a grin, because that would be an impossible feat, but then I turn to Marya and the grin melts from my face.
“Again, precautionary,” I explain. “Until you get back on your feet. I’ll be here at night; your Mom will be around during the day. And a contact of Jasper’s is coming by in a bit to install a security system.”
“I can’t afford that,” she huffs at the suggestion. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna keep my kids fed with me being out of commission.”
“You don’t have to worry about it. It’s taken care of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s taken care of. Suck it up, buttercup,” Lydia, who’s clearly been paying close attention, suggests.
“It’s important, Marya—as a precaution,” I remind her when I see her lips press together. “None of this may be ideal, but we’re all trying to do the best we can under the circumstances.” The subtle reference there’s a lot going on is enough to have her features soften.
“What about Max?”
That quiet question is enough to make me want to declare my undying love for this woman—concerned about my boy—but since I don’t have the time to follow through on any such declaration, plus I can feel her mother’s eyes burning a hole in my shirt, I curb the urge.
“He’ll be okay at my folks’ place.”
“Or he can stay here too,” she suggests. “There’s plenty of room.”
Oh yeah, I’m not just falling for her; I’m plummeting. “Why don’t we see how things go tonight? Damian and I will need to chat with the boys when they get home from school, since Damian didn’t get far yesterday. Might be best not to have Max in the mix today.”
That seems to settle her and I lean in for a quick kiss before getting up. More chaste than I’d like it to be, but with Lydia looking on, it’ll have to do.
I’ll welcome the day when I don’t have to hold back. When I don’t feel the pressure of this case eating at me, or the guilt that inevitably follows a brief moment of happiness.
“I should head back to the office. Take a nap while you can, and I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
I bend down and kiss the tip of her nose. I’m about to head out the door when her arm reaches around my neck and pulls me farther down instead. Her eyes lock on mine, but her words are for her mother.
“Mom? Close your eyes.”
“DO YOU KNOW THOMAS?”
Liam’s head drops even lower at Damian’s question.
Damian suggested separating him from his brothers, in hopes he might have an easier time talking—we’re in his bedroom—but he’s wrapped up tight. Without discussing it beforehand, we’ve assumed abbreviated ‘good cop-bad cop’ positions. Damian is standing with his back against the door, and I’m sitting on the small desk chair, pulled up close to Liam who’s perched on the edge of the bed.
“Liam,” I call him to attention, “We just need some help finding him. You’re not in any trouble, but Thomas is. He�
�s been gone for forty-eight hours now.”
“But I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t see anything,” he says, lifting his head and looking at me pleadingly.
“I realize that, kiddo, but you know Thomas, am I right?” That earns me a nod.
“Did you know Thomas’ handle is Ace2McTank?”
Liam’s head swings around to Damian, his surprise evident. He didn’t know that.
“And that Seth used the tag MadGoalz?” I add, hating to see the color drain from the boy’s face, but he may have information that could help us find Thomas.
“For real?” His wide eyes come back to me and I see the wheels start turning.
“Yeah, kid. It shocked me too. Not only did you all play in the same soccer league, you’ve been gaming with those same guys and didn’t even know it.”
“Do you know who SoccerLord is?”
I can see it happen. The moment Damian asks the question, Liam’s small body jerks as if hit and he shuts down. Fuck.
“Max came to me a few weeks ago.” I hope to reach him by sharing maybe more than I should. “Told me someone in the group had made him feel uncomfortable. I was going to look into it when Seth went missing, but I didn’t follow through because we were focused on finding him. If I had, we might’ve been able to stop Thomas from being taken. Maybe.” I take in a deep breath, resisting the urge to do a victorious fist-pump when Liam’s eyes focus on me. “We need to know all we can about SoccerLord, kiddo. And we need your help.”
It takes everything out of me not to shake the boy as he wages some internal battle that is visible on his face. Finally he speaks.
“He was nice at first.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I thought he was my age, talking about stuff, you know; soccer, school, fun things to do. Then he started asking about my family, about my brothers and my dad. That’s when I started thinking maybe he wasn’t my age. Just some of the stuff he’d talk about got weird.”
“Can you give us an example?” Damian asks in a surprisingly gentle voice, and I notice he’s no longer towering over the boy, but is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Putting himself in a position where the kid might feel less threatened.
Liam looks embarrassed but forges on. “Like if I’d ever had naughty dreams...you know...”
“A wet dream?” I offer, vaguely remembering those early stirrings of hormones and curiosity.
“Yeah. I wasn’t...I mean...I hadn’t. Anyway, he said it was too bad I didn’t have my dad to talk to. That he could try and find him. That we could set something up. Meet somewhere. Then the next day he called my house.”
“Who did?”
“He said he was my dad. He wanted to see me. It was weird though, he didn’t even know I played soccer when I told him my team name, so I hung up.”
“You’re a smart kid, Liam,” I encourage him, trying hard to ignore the fire boiling in my gut.
“Not really,” he says, dropping his eyes to his hands fidgeting in his lap. “When I asked SoccerLord later if that was him on the phone, he got mad. Said if he found out I’d told anyone about him, he’d hurt GrootRules.”
“What’s GrootRules?” Damian asks.
I don’t need the confirmation, I already know who he’s been protecting.
“That’s my brother—Harry.”
CHAPTER 22
Dylan
“That was Ouray.”
The way Luna says his name has all eyes turn to her as she walks back into the office.
Despite going balls to the wall these past days, talking to almost every kid we were able to link with both the Four Corners League and the Fortnite group. Still none of them had much to add to what Liam had contributed.
Jasper’s been using my, Max’s, and finally Liam’s handle to try and lure SoccerLord out, with no result. He looks to have gone silent.
We’re all beyond frustrated, feeling incompetent and helpless with Thomas still unaccounted for. Farmington doesn’t have much more, although they have a lead they’re chasing down. One of Thomas’ teammates has come forward. He saw a boy he thinks might have been Thomas getting into a dark van with a sliding side door.
It’s something, but we need more.
“What’s he got?” Damian instinctively asks, like the rest of us knowing she wouldn’t announce a call from her husband unless he had information to share.
“Berger.”
Chairs scrape on the floor, as we all seem to move at once at the news.
“Thomas?”
Luna turns to me and shakes her head. “He can’t confirm that. Hasn’t seen the boy, just Jeremy.”
“Where?” This from Damian, who’s already shrugging into his FBI slicker.
“The RV park along the highway, south of town.”
“You mean the Old Homestead?” Jasper’s already pulling up a satellite view on his screen.
“No, not the trailer park, RVs, farther south. The club’s been searching. The guys have been checking trailer parks, short-term private rentals like the place Berger had up in Hermosa. Figuring we’d be looking into hotels, motels, and the like, where registration would be required, they’ve focused on places where cash transactions aren’t questioned and someone looking for privacy would be left alone.”
“Durango RV,” Jasper apparently has found it. “West side of the highway. Do we know which one?”
“Ouray says it’s an older fifth-wheel with a single pop-out on the south side of the property. A trail that leads back out the highway right behind it. He’s got eyes on it, but is getting itchy.”
“There it is.” Jasper points at the screen. “Coming in from the southwest gives us best coverage.”
“Luna, call your man and tell him to fucking wait until we get there, and give Joe at DPD a heads-up. You’ve got the office. Okay, folks. Let’s saddle up.”
I ride with Damian, and Jasper follows in the Expedition outfitted for prisoner transportation.
It’s a twenty-minute drive. We pass the RV park to get to the dirt road on the south side. I spot a silver four-door sedan parked next to a trailer that matches the description.
“Still here,” I tell Damian.
“I see that.”
We turn right the first chance we get. After about two hundred feet the dirt road takes a sharp right turn, but straight ahead we see two bikes parked side by side in a clearing. Damian pulls in behind them.
“Haven’t seen movement for the past hour,” Ouray shares, walking toward us from the shelter of the trees. “Paco’s up there keeping an eye out.”
“Decent cover?” Damian asks.
“Back end of the trailer, yeah. Twenty or so open feet to a ridge of rock at the edge of the tree line. No cover in front.”
Ouray leads the way through the trees, until we have a visual on Paco crouched behind an outcropping up ahead and the trailer beyond. Damian stops us with a hand gesture.
“Door faces the road. I’d like to have a look at those windows before we knock on the door though,” he says, pointing at the three windows at the back of the trailer. “Jas, you’re with me. Dylan, stay back in case he bolts and avoid fire.”
“I wanna go in.” I’ve never questioned an order in the field—never—but I want this guy. I want in on the action.
“Not gonna happen, Barnes. Don’t need you losing your head.”
“Like hell,” I hiss back at Damian.
“Think, goddammit,” he growls, leaning close as he pokes a finger in my chest. “You’ve already had an altercation with the guy. You’re involved with his ex-wife. He takes one look at you, and right off the bat we’ve got a situation on our hands. You are not the right guy to go in, and you know it.”
Fuck. I know he’s right, even just standing here I can feel the adrenaline rage through my body. I know Damian sees the whole picture, when all I can think about is crushing that miserable bastard like the parasite he is.
I reluctantly nod my understanding and have to watch as my teammates joi
n Paco behind the rock and from there, ducking low, approach the back of the trailer.
A large hand claps on my shoulder.
“You think this is bad,” Ouray mumbles behind me. “Imagine being married to a woman half your size who can outfight you, outshoot you, and outsmart you.”
“Fuck.”
The hand gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Exactly,” he says dryly.
I can see Jasper sneaking a look in one of the windows, before moving to the next. I try to catch the signals I know they’re using to communicate, but their hands are shielded by their bodies.
As they round opposite sides of the trailer, I go on alert. I hear knocking, then, “FBI, open the door,” and the next instant a window on the backside slides open and Berger hoists himself through. He hits the ground hard but scrambles to his feet and takes off almost straight for us.
“Mine,” I growl at Ouray, but just as Berger darts past the outcropping, Paco bolts out and tackles him by the legs, bringing him down instantly.
I’m already moving and launch myself on top of him, shoving his face in the dirt.
“I dare you to move,” I hiss in his ear. “All I need is an excuse.”
I’m not sure if he knows who is pinning him to the ground, but he freezes instantly. Too bad.
“Cuffs,” I hear Ouray behind me, and holding Berger down with one hand I pull them off my belt, holding them out.
There’s no resistance from the man as Ouray snaps the cuffs in place and reluctantly I let him go, just as Damian comes jogging around the trailer.
He takes one look at the scene and gives me a nod. Barely distinguishable but praise nonetheless. Normally I’d feel that in my bones, but not this time.
“Thomas?” I ask instead, my eyes on Damian.
“Not here.”
MARYA
“I thought you said Max would be here tonight?”
Harry’s barely cleared the front door when he calls out.
“Don’t leave your bags there,” I automatically respond. Every day when the kids come home I have to repeat the same thing over again. You’d think they’d clue in eventually. “He’s going to do homework at his grandparents until Dylan picks him up after work, Bub. I suggest you guys do the same so you’re free to play when he gets here.”
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 18