Broken Angels

by Anne Hope

  “Uh, boys?” Becca interrupted, looking seriously distressed. “I hate to break it to you, but we really don’t have time for this. The baby’s about to self-combust.” She angled an admonishing stare Zach’s way. “I’ll grab his diaper bag and meet you in the car.”

  And that was the end of that.

  The ride to the clinic was strained, the silence more slicing than the blades of light slanting across the windshield. Will had fallen asleep in his car seat, and Rebecca couldn’t help glancing back at him every minute or so. It comforted her to see the steady rise and fall of his chest, the repetitive twitch at the corner of his mouth. Fear and compassion tightened the steel clamp wrapped around her heart. She’d waited too long, should have trusted her instincts and brought him in sooner…

  “He’ll be all right,” Zach reassured her. “Probably just a bug.”

  “He looks so weak.” A drowning sense of failure submerged her. “Lindsay would’ve realized something was wrong—”

  “You can’t be sure of that. Stop beating yourself up. You told me you were worried. I’m the one who was being bull-headed.”

  She stared at the glistening blacktop as Zach’s silver Audi sped across the road, faster than it should’ve, and shook her head in denial. “It’s a woman’s—a mother’s—job to know these things.” Problem was, she wasn’t meant to be a mother, and just when she was beginning to forget that undeniable fact, something like this happened to remind her.

  “That’s a load of crap.” His features grew stormy, so intense her stomach folded. “You’re not a doctor. Or a fortune-teller, for that matter. You’re doing the best you can. We both are.”

  “What if that’s not enough?” Tall trees shivered as they scraped a hazy sky, blurring at the tips.

  “It is.” Zach clenched the steering wheel so tight his knuckles blanched. “It has to be.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was almost one o’clock, and Noah couldn’t find Uncle Martin anywhere. Just as well. It would be a lot easier to sneak away with no one around keeping an eye on him. He tiptoed to the back door, swung it open as quietly as he could, then froze at the loud bark that followed. Bolt stood behind him, happily wagging his tail.

  “Shhh. I’m not taking you for a walk, so be quiet. Okay?”

  The dog kept right on yapping. “Stay,” Noah commanded in his I-really-mean-it voice.

  Bolt dropped his butt to the floor and swept the tiles clean with his tail, all the while watching him with a dumb look. A warm tingle spread through Noah, so he reached out and petted the puppy’s head. “I’ll take you for walk later,” he said. “Promise.” With those parting words, he darted outside and circled the house to where his bike sat perched.

  In a few minutes he’d finally get to meet Night-Owl face-to-face. The idea thrilled him. Having an older friend was really awesome. He could say things to Night-Owl. Things he couldn’t say to anyone else. Night-Owl never judged, always listened and understood.

  What luck that he happened to be right here in Chatham, and only a block away!

  Excitement setting off small explosions inside him, Noah mounted his bike.

  “Where are you going?” The question nearly knocked him out of his socks. His heart took off at a gallop.

  It’s just Kristen, he told himself in an effort to ease the wild roar of his pulse. “None of your business.”

  “I wanna come, too.”

  His sister could be a real pain sometimes. “You can’t.”

  “But I want to.” Her bottom lip shook. Any minute now she’d start to bawl.

  “Go back inside. Keep Bolt company.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.” He pumped the pedals, intending to high-tail it out of there, but his tires were flat. Crap. Now he’d have to walk. Easier said than done with Kristen dogging his every step. He had to get her off his back…and fast. “All right,” he lied, “you can come along. But only if Uncle Martin says it’s okay. Why don’t you go ask him and meet me back here?”

  Kristen’s face glowed. “Don’t leave without me,” she warned, right before she took off at a dash.

  The minute the door slammed shut behind her, Noah made a beeline for the woods. It would be faster this way. The house he sought was just beyond these trees. The forest was alive, filled with sighs and rustling sounds—the breeze whispering through the leaves, a rabbit making a desperate run for its burrow, a jumpy squirrel hiding beneath the brush. Still, he heard the distinct snap of a twig, the crunch of dirt and grass beneath someone’s feet, and tossed a nervous glance over his shoulder.

  No one there.

  He quickened his pace, kept plowing ahead. In the distance waves crashed over the shore, quick as a whip.

  Before long he reached the other side, relaxed as rock and soil turned to sand beneath him. Then he saw the house—tall and gray, with blue shutters and a spinning rooster on top—and anticipation filled all the empty spaces in his chest. Night-Owl was just a short climb away. Noah took off at a run.

  When he stood at the front door, a twinge of guilt assaulted him. Maybe he should have told someone where he’d gone. Even if he’d wanted to, no one had been around, he reasoned. He probably should have left a note. A note would have done the trick.

  Too late now.

  He grabbed the knocker and slammed it hard against the dark blue door.

  He waited a few seconds, knocked again. When no one answered, he decided to try the handle and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He took an uncertain step forward. “Night-Owl? Are you here? It’s Raptor.”

  He walked farther inside, noticed the house was empty. Maybe he’d gone to the wrong place. He ran Night-Owl’s description through his mind. No, this was the right house. His friend was probably just running late. But why was there no furniture in sight?

  A door squeaked, followed by the sound of a floorboard creaking behind him. Noah spun on his heels.

  “You came.” The man’s voice was as familiar as his face.

  Confusion leaked in to snuff out excitement. “What are you doing here?”

  “We had a play date, remember?”

  Was he missing something? This guy didn’t belong here, in Night-Owl’s house, waiting for him as if he was expecting him. Then it struck him like a baseball bat to the head. “You’re Night-Owl?”

  “I always knew you were a bright one.”

  “But you’re supposed to be twelve.” Something was wrong. He felt it, saw it in the funny way the man was looking at him, like an owl watching a mouse.

  “I was. Once.”

  Noah approached him, even as something inside him wanted to recoil. “Why did you pretend to be a kid?”

  “Because I needed to get close to you. Needed you to trust me.”

  None of this made any sense. “Why?”

  “You ask too many questions.” The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a bottle and a white rag.

  Noah’s stomach pitched, then crashed into his gut. “What are you doing?”

  The smile that had once been friendly turned ice cold. “What I should have done months ago.”

  Before Noah could make a run for it, the door slammed open, and Kristen came stomping in. “You left without me,” she whined. “But I followed you. You can’t trick me. I’m too smart.”

  Every protective instinct inside him flared to life. His gut told him something bad was about to happen, that the shadows were hungry again, and he’d led Kristen right to them.

  “Kristen, get out of here!” he yelled as a strong arm snaked around him. The rag covered his face, cut off his next breath. It smelled strong, sweet and rotten at the same time. His ears began to ring. The whole world spun like a merry-go-round gone wild.

  Then everything faded to black.

  They’d been at the clinic for over an hour. Rebecca sat at Will’s bedside, stroking his hair as she waited anxiously for the test results. The nurse had taken blood, a urine sample, a throat swab. The doctor had chec
ked his mouth, ears, nose, and dutifully listened to his heartbeat. Will, who’d taken offense at being poked and prodded, had cried up a storm. Eventually, he’d exhausted himself and fallen asleep on the examination table.

  “I hope they figure this thing out soon.” Zach leaned against the doorjamb, looking restless and irritated. “Wonder how things are going with Martin.”

  So that was the reason he was in such a rush to get out of here. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Try to relax.”

  His brows narrowed. “I can’t.”

  She’d never truly understood his intense dislike for Liam’s older brother. It was completely out of character for him. Zach was nothing if not diplomatic, yet with Martin he seemed to regress to such primal aggression it made her think of a caveman guarding the entrance to his cave.

  “I don’t get it.” She couldn’t help herself. She had to ask. “Why do you hate him so much?”

  He answered without hesitation. “He’s too slick, and he smiles too much.” The fact that he didn’t even bother denying it spoke volumes.

  “Are you sure it’s not because of what happened at our wedding?”

  The heated expression on his face could have melted snow. “He hit on you. Any reason something like that would make me hate his guts?”

  “He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing.” The baby stirred, and she soothed him with a gentle pat on the chest.

  “A man’s true character shows when he’s drunk,” Zach continued, oblivious to Will’s unrest. “He did what he didn’t have the guts to do sober.”

  “And you’ve held a grudge for ten years.” She shook her head, amazed.

  He shrugged, scanned the corridor at the sound of footsteps approaching. “It’s not a grudge, just a healthy dose of hostility.”

  The baby’s brows relaxed as peace found him again. Rebecca linked her fingers and lowered them to her lap, where they remained in a nervous tangle as she studied the man she’d known practically her whole life. A man she was just beginning to see.

  In this painfully silent room, where the walls were an impeccable white and the air smelled faintly of antiseptic, the blindness lifted, and she finally understood something fundamental. If a silly pass had the power to inspire a decade of resentment, then Zach’s feelings for her surely ran deeper than she’d always believed, which meant their relationship hadn’t been one-sided at all. In her increasingly hectic reality, that was something big. Something to grab hold of, to build on.

  For the first time in her life she didn’t feel alone, and that made her strong enough to face anything. Still, her stomach pitched when the doctor returned with the test results—a small-framed Asian woman with jet-black hair pinned up in a bun and a practiced smile sure to comfort the most irate patient.

  Rebecca shot to her feet and bridged the distance between them. “What’s wrong with him?” She didn’t mean to sound panicky, but she couldn’t stop fear from spilling into her voice. Like it or not, she’d already begun to feel like a mother, and worrying was part of the deal.

  “He’ll be fine,” the doctor reassured them. “He just has an ear infection. Thankfully, you caught it in time. There’s no damage to the eardrum.”

  Rebecca wanted to knock herself over the head. “That’s why he’s been tugging on his ear. I should’ve figured—”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the woman soothed in a lyrical voice. “It’s painful but easily treated.” She pulled out her prescription pad. “Is he allergic to penicillin?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked to Zach for guidance.

  “No. He’s taken it before.”

  “Good.” The doctor scribbled something illegible down, then tore off the sheet and handed it to her. “Five ml, twice daily for ten days. Keep giving him Acetaminophen or Ibuprofen for the fever. It should last another day or two.”

  Rebecca took the slip of paper and nodded.

  “You should have him checked again when the treatment is over,” the doctor added, “just to make sure.”

  “We will.” Zach came to stand beside Rebecca, draped an arm over her shoulder. “Can we take him home now?”

  “Go right ahead. Feel free to bring him by again if the symptoms persist beyond forty-eight hours, but I doubt they will.”

  Relieved, Rebecca lifted Will off the examination table and cradled him—still sleeping—in her arms. It felt good to hold him. So good her heart nearly broke from it. Then, with Zach’s protective arm still wrapped around her, they stepped out of the stark white building, directly into the blazing sun’s welcoming embrace, where dark fears dulled and sweet promises sprang to life.

  Rebecca knew better than anyone that promises were rarely kept. Too many things existed that had the potential to shatter them—an illness, an accident, a trigger-happy burglar. For a few minutes she`d almost forgotten that. It took a phone call to remind her. They’d just finished filling Will’s prescription at the drugstore, not to mention acquiring an impressive supply of Tylenol, when Zach’s cell began to buzz. The second he answered it, she knew from the murderous look on his face that something was terribly wrong.

  “Well, they couldn’t have gone far. Did you check the beach?” Silence. Deep, silky, aggravating silence. “How about Tess and Pat’s place?”

  Zach’s knuckles blanched from the death grip he had on the phone. “Keep looking. We’re on our way.”

  She pressed Will to her side with one hand, gripped Zach’s arm with the other. “What’s happened?”

  Anger, hot as hell, flamed in his eyes. “That dipshit Martin’s gone and lost the kids.” He sliced her with his gaze. “Still think he’s a prince?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Zach stormed into the beach house, his blood pumping fast and furious through his veins. The place was empty except for Martin, who sat on the couch holding his head like the goddamn idiot he was.

  “Why the hell aren’t you out there looking for the kids?”

  The blood leached from Martin’s face. “I have been. They’re nowhere. It’s like they just up and disappeared.”

  “Kids don’t just disappear. You were supposed to be watching them.”

  “I was. I was only gone a minute. A client called, so I went to my boat to get my briefcase—”

  Zach ate up the distance between them and grabbed the worthless piece of shit by the collar of his designer shirt. “I don’t give a damn about your clients. I left those kids with you because you told me I could trust you.” He lifted Martin to his feet and shook him, hard.

  Becca gripped his biceps. “Don’t do this, Zach. Please.”

  The tremor he caught in her voice sobered him. Although he wanted nothing more than to flatten Martin, he released him and took a step back. “If anything happens to those kids, I’m going to finish what I started.”

  For the first time, Liam’s older brother looked beaten. He slumped against the arm of the sofa, his hair an awkward bramble of spikes, the plastic grin gone.

  All the commotion upset Will, who began to fuss again.

  Becca ran her palm down the baby’s back and pressed him to her chest, holding on to him like a lifeline. “Martin, please tell us what happened,” she asked over the toddler’s downy head.

  The scorching pain in her eyes took tiny nips out of Zach’s soul.

  “I told you,” Martin sputtered. “I got a call. Went to my boat for just a sec. When I got back, they were gone.”

  “Did they say anything before they took off? Mention a place, a friend?” Becca was grasping at straws.

  “No.”

  “Did you talk to Jason and Amy? Maybe they know something—” The desperation he caught in her voice made Zach want to pummel the negligent bastard all over again. He reached out, ran his own palm down her back to comfort her.

  “They said they didn’t see anything. Neither did Tess.” Martin’s tone rang flat, frustration gnawing away at the edges.

  “When’s the last time you saw them?” Zach probed.
>
  “A couple of hours ago, give or take.”

  “And you waited till now to call us? What the hell were you thinking?”

  Indignation thinned Martin’s mouth. “I was busy looking for them.”

  “Did you search the woods?”

  “Yes. Several times.” Defeat no longer rearranged Martin’s features. Defiance now smoldered in his gaze. “There was no sign of them.”

  As if her legs could no longer support her, Becca dropped into the couch, still clutching the baby. Will, who obviously didn’t appreciate the death-grip she had on him, complained and wrestled free.

  “Then there’s only one thing to do.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but failed to flood her cheeks. “We need to call the police.”

  Evening fell like a black cloak to cover the sky, and they were still no closer to locating the children. The authorities had spent the better part of the day scouring the area, but their efforts had turned up nothing. They’d promised to resume the search at first light, but that did little to comfort Rebecca. Noah and Kristen were out there, somewhere in the dark night—alone, frightened, maybe even hurt.

  She pictured their sweet faces, and her gut clamped. She felt empty inside, as if someone had reached into her chest cavity and torn out her heart. Now all that was left in its place was a jagged wound that pulsed and throbbed with each breath she drew into her lungs. The need to find them, protect them, slashed through her. She’d thought she’d lost them before—when Kristen had gone to visit Voula and Noah had taken the canoe to the Seashore—but this was different. This was real.

  The kids hadn’t just wandered off. If they had, they would have found them by now. Something was wrong. She felt it.

  Her throat was swollen, thick with the tears she refused to shed. She wouldn’t cry for them. Crying would mean she’d given up, that she didn’t think she’d ever see them again.