by T. R. Ragan
“Dad and Colton are somewhere in the mountains in freezing temperatures. Did you know they’re expecting a storm in the exact area they’re searching? If they don’t get out of there soon, we’re going to lose them.”
Faith said nothing. She only wished she could trade places with her mother. She should have been there for her.
Cecelia’s pale, lifeless face flashed in her mind. And the man’s face, too. A stranger. Death and destruction were all around her.
“Do you hear me, Faith? We could lose them. We’ve already lost Craig. Bri and the kids have moved away. I love Lara and Hudson, you know I do, but I can’t see how losing our entire family will bring them home or make things right. This can’t go on.”
Faith swallowed as she thought about what her sister was saying. She leaned close to Mom, whispered in her ear, told her everything would be all right; then she turned, lightly touched Jana’s arm, and walked out of the room.
What would Jana say if she knew Faith had killed a man tonight—committed the ultimate sin? And what would her sister say if she knew Faith hadn’t felt an ounce of remorse?
She had no tears left to shed.
Jana was right. She couldn’t allow her family to drop like flies around her. Seeing her Mom clinging to life was the tipping point.
Back in the lobby, where Beast, Rage, and Miranda sat in plastic chairs waiting for an update, she told them it was over. No more investigative work. No more killing and bloodshed.
“No,” Rage said.
Beast attempted to put an arm around Rage and pull her aside, but that did nothing to stop her from voicing her opinion. “I’m sorry about your mom. We’ll have to become much more vigilant,” Rage said, “but this isn’t over until we find Lara and Hudson.”
“I can’t allow my family and all of you to continue to risk your lives. I’m going to talk to Detective Yuhasz and tell him everything I know, tell him I’m finished. I never should have dragged all of you into this mess. It’s time for us to step aside and let the authorities do their jobs.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rage looked at Beast. “She’s joking, right?”
Faith held her ground.
“This is bullshit,” Rage said as she pulled away from Beast and lifted herself to her feet. She stepped toward Faith and went so far as to jab a finger at her chest. “Your mom, your dad, your brother—all of us—made the decision to get involved because it’s not often you see one person take a stand against the scum of the earth.”
Beast stood and put a hand on Rage’s shoulder. “Leave her be,” he told Rage. “Faith has had a rough day, and her mother was almost killed.”
Rage knocked his hand off. “No. She doesn’t get to change her mind because three asshole douche bags beat up her mom.” Rage narrowed her eyes. “Did your mom tell you to give up? Did she?”
Faith shook her head.
“I didn’t think so. Because this isn’t about you, Faith. This is about your kids. Your mother’s grandkids.”
Faith lifted her chin as she looked at Beast. “Can you take Miranda home with you? I’m going to stay here at the hospital overnight and make sure Mom’s OK.”
“Not a problem.” He turned toward Miranda. “Come on,” he said.
Miranda wrinkled her nose. “I don’t need any of your help. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Beast smoothed a hand over his chin, clearly frustrated with the whole lot of them. “Do me a favor, kid, and come with us. My dad makes a mean chowder soup, and he’s keeping it warm on the stove.”
Rage whispered a few words into Miranda’s ear, then nodded at Beast.
After Beast and Miranda headed for the exit, Rage turned toward Faith once again. Her jaw was set, her spine stiff. “You can’t quit. Do you hear me? Take the night to think about it, but if you do decide to stop fighting, I guarantee you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
From the river, Dad and Colton followed more than one trail of footprints to a small cabin half-covered in vines and weeds. It had a tin roof. Dry rot had taken its toll on the shack’s eaves, and the stone chimney was cracked and crumbling.
Colton stepped up his pace, eager to see if anyone was inside. He stopped short when he noticed a bloodied hand sticking out from beneath a pile of dirt and leaves.
Dad came up from behind. “What is it?”
“It’s not good whatever it is.” Colton looked around for a stick and then used it to unbury a severed limb. “It looks like a forearm. Adult male.”
Colton held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Skin and muscle were still attached in parts. The wrist bone and hand with two fingers were still intact.
“Looks as if a wild animal got to it,” Dad said.
“Yeah, I would say so.”
Although neither of them said the words, Colton knew his dad was thinking what he was thinking. It wasn’t Hudson. Thank God.
Colton pushed himself upward, shoved his handkerchief in his back pocket, and walked toward the cabin. Pieces of the man, whoever he was, flesh and bone, were scattered about. Using the tip of his boot, he pushed open the cabin door. The inside smelled rank enough to make him wonder if he would find another corpse. He took a step back and inhaled a breath of fresh air before stepping inside. “The woodstove was used recently,” Colton said loud enough for Dad to hear him.
“Could have been used by the dead man.”
“True,” Colton said as he walked around, his heavy boots making the old wood planks creak in protest. He examined the fish bones in the sink, where the foul smells were coming from, before opening and closing drawers. Empty cans of beans were stacked together on the floor beneath the window.
Finished with the cabin, Colton went outside again.
He found Dad near the dilapidated outhouse behind the cabin examining what looked like a small boulder on the ground. Up close, Colton saw that it was nothing of the sort. It was the head and partially eaten upper torso of a man. Not a pretty sight.
Dad gestured at the back of the head. “Looks like he was struck with an ax.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Colton said as he turned away, wondering if his nephew and the other boys had killed the man.
“Find anything inside the cabin?”
“Fish bones, a few empty cans of beans. Ashes in the wood-burning stove. That’s about it.”
“Nothing inside the outhouse, either,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”
Without another word spoken about the dead man, they moved on.
Back at the river, it didn’t take long for Dad to find the boys’ trail. Embedded within layers of thick, damp leaves and soil were two pairs of small footprints. The same two boys who had taken refuge beneath the lean-to on top of the mountain had made their way to the river, maybe found the cabin and stayed there for a few nights until someone came along—that someone being the same man who had been torn into bits and pieces.
Colton held something up: a tree branch that had been turned into a makeshift spear.
His dad’s eyes lit up. Colton figured it was because Dad had been the one to teach Hudson how to spear a fish in the wild. Seeing the spear gave them hope.
The boys’ tracks were fairly easy to follow. Dad took the lead, but his pace had slowed since they’d first set off. He appeared flushed. “Want me to take some of that load off your back?” Colton asked.
“I’m old,” Dad said over his shoulder, “but I ain’t dead, kid. I can handle my own pack.”
Here we go, Colton thought. He was going to get a lecture. Dad was stubborn. Always had been. And Dad never liked to be reminded that he wasn’t as strong and tough as he used to be.
“Do you remember when I took you skiing for the first time?”
“Yeah, I do,” Colton said. “We were at Heavenly, right?”
Dad nodded. “I bit off more than I could chew that day.”
“What do you mean?”
“A storm was coming. Mom asked me, pleaded
with me, in fact, not to take you up the mountain. I wouldn’t listen. Not only did I take you out—I figured it was time to take you down the face of the mountain.” He shook his head in remembrance. “You were freezing from the start. We barely got off the chairlift without incident. We weren’t a third of the way down the mountain before you started crying. I took off one of your gloves to show you how to warm up your hands by blowing warm breath into your gloves. While I blew all the hot air I could into your small gloves, I noticed your fingers were turning blue.”
“I do remember that day,” Colton said, “especially being freezing cold and scared, stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yeah, well, in a matter of minutes, it seemed, the wind had picked up considerably. I was worried. We were too far down the mountain to head back up. And yet we still had a long way to go to get to the bottom. It was way too steep for a little boy. And to this day I don’t know what made me do such a foolish thing.”
“But we made it down the hill just fine,” Colton reminded him.
His dad took a breath. “We made it down the hill all right. Mostly I skied with you between my legs. I took you straight to the med center inside the lodge. The doctor there thought you might lose a couple of fingers at the very least.”
He’d heard the story many times before, but neither of his parents had ever told Colton how serious it had been.
“Because of the storm, Mom and I didn’t want to take any chances, so we had to rush you to the closest hospital. They saved your fingers and toes, but it was a close one.” He swallowed. “Your mom didn’t talk to me for weeks, maybe a month.”
“But everything worked out fine. Why are you telling me this, Dad?”
“Because I think you’re worried about me, and worrying won’t do either of us any good.”
“And rightly so,” Colton said sternly. “You had a stroke recently, and it’s easy to see that the altitude is getting to you.”
Dad placed a gloved hand on Colton’s shoulder and squeezed. “I get it, son. But I want you to know two things.”
Colton waited.
“We’re going to find Hudson. And we’re all going to get down this mountain alive. That’s all that matters. Do you understand me?”
Colton peered into Dad’s eyes. It wasn’t just stubbornness he saw there. It was sheer will and determination. Nothing was going to stop him, not his age or his failing health, not the heavy load on his back or strong winds, and certainly not his son’s worrying. Dad might have been foolish to take him up the mountain that day, but the point was he’d gotten them down the face of Heavenly Valley and when the time came he would get them down from here, too. Without looking away, Colton said, “Got it.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
An hour later, where a fallen tree lay in their path, they stopped to have a look around. The boys’ footprints continued on an uphill path, which made no sense at all.
“Maybe they were hiding from something,” Colton said as he examined the tracks. “They could have been trying to lose someone.”
Dad stood straight and tall, his nostrils flaring like an old English springer spaniel trying to catch a scent. “I wish I knew,” he said. “Hudson has a good sense of direction. He would never have made that kind of mistake. Even if he were running from something, he would have known he needed to stay near the river in order to survive.” Dad turned downhill, ignoring all the signs that pointed in the other direction.
“Dad,” Colton said, straddling the fallen log. “There aren’t any footprints or signs of a third party. We’ve been following the same tracks for a while. We can’t stop now. Right or wrong, we’ve got to stay on their trail.”
Dad looked at Colton with weary eyes, the lines in his face deeper than ever, his frustration palpable. Then he let out a ponderous sigh and led the way uphill.
Faith spent the night moving from a chair in her mom’s room to a small couch in the hospital lobby. A nurse shook her awake to let her know Lilly was asking for her. Faith thanked her and then went to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face and brushed her fingers through her tangled hair. In her mom’s room she found a nurse adjusting pillows and setting up a tray of orange juice and yogurt.
When Mom saw Faith enter the room, she managed a crooked smile that revealed a chipped tooth.
“Oh, Mom,” Faith said as she went to her. Faith hugged her as best she could without disturbing all the wires and tubes.
“Any news yet?” Mom asked, her voice labored.
Faith had to watch the words form on Mom’s swollen lips to know what she was saying. She didn’t have to ask any questions to know Mom was talking about Dad, Colton, and Hudson.
Faith shook her head.
“They’ll be fine,” Mom said, her voice so scratchy and small that it broke Faith’s heart.
“What about you?” Faith asked. “Will you be all right?”
“Never better,” she managed.
They exchanged knowing looks.
“I Tasered one of the men,” she told Faith in the same proud voice Miranda had used last night. I killed a man, Faith thought, but didn’t say.
“I would have gotten another man, too,” Mom went on, “but there were three of them.” She paused to catch her breath, rested a limp hand on her chest. “The third one caught me off guard.”
Her voice wavered. Mom was doing her best to sound strong, but her pain was obvious. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Mom. If I had left well enough alone, I would have been there with you.”
“Three of them, Faith. All big men. I’m glad you weren’t there. I was lucky enough to get to my bedroom.”
“As soon as Dad and Colton come home, I’m going to tell them it’s over.”
Mom scowled.
Faith threw her arms wide. “Look what they’ve done to you, Mom. It’s all too much. No more. Enough is enough.”
“Sounds like Jana talking.”
Uncertainty and hopelessness weighed heavily on Faith, causing her shoulders to fall forward. “She may have been the one to open my eyes, Mom, but I’m the one putting my foot down. If not for Beast and Rage showing up, you would have been killed. We haven’t heard a word from Dad and Colton.”
“You can’t quit now,” Mom said.
Faith opened the yogurt and tried to spoon-feed her, but Mom shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Faith set the spoon back on the tray. “From the very beginning,” Faith reminded her, “you said we shouldn’t get involved and that we should let the police handle this. You were right.”
“Wrong. I was wrong.”
Faith didn’t want to hear what she had to say. She pulled out her phone. “I promised Jana I would call her once you were awake.”
“They won’t stop, Faith. It’s too late to call a truce.”
“I can bargain with them.”
“How? With what?”
Money, Faith thought. She had no idea why the men had come to the house. Did they know Faith was staying there, and they wanted to shut her up once and for all? Would they have killed Mom if Beast and Rage hadn’t shown up? Or maybe the attack was a warning.
Dad, Beast, and Rage were the only people who knew she had their money stashed away in the tree fort. It might be time for her to find a way to make contact. She could put a message on her website or maybe contact a local reporter. Her mind was swirling with speculation.
“Robyn Price,” Mom said suddenly, her voice clearer than before.
“What did you say?”
“Before those men came crashing through the door, the phone rang. It was a woman. Robyn Price. She sounded desperate . . . said it was imperative—no, urgent—she said it was urgent. Said she needed to talk to you about the children.”
Related to Richard Price? Faith wondered. The same man who had used Faith’s husband’s business to launder money and then, according to the FBI, was murdered?
“Did she leave a number?” Faith asked.
Mom winced as she
tried to sit up in bed.
Faith helped her. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.” She took a moment to collect herself. “The woman said she never should have called. And then the call was disconnected.”
“What should I do?” Faith asked, and yet she already knew the answer. Despite what she’d just said about putting a stop to this craziness, she realized in that moment that no matter the consequences, she would never stop looking for her children.
“You need to do whatever it takes to get a hold of that woman’s phone number and give her a call,” Mom said.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The minute Mom mentioned Robyn Price, Faith put off the idea of possibly sending any sort of message to the people who were doing their best to destroy her family.
By the time Jana arrived at the hospital to visit with Mom, Rage had already managed to locate a Florida address and telephone number for Robyn Price. Jana didn’t say two words to Faith, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. Her sister was angry, and Faith didn’t have the strength to argue with her, so she said her goodbyes and left.
The first thing Faith did once she climbed into her car was pull out her cell phone and call Robyn Price. Nobody answered, so she left a message asking the woman to call her as soon as possible.
An hour later, she called again. Still no answer.
It was eating her up inside. Why had Robyn reached out to her? What did she know about Lara and Hudson? Those were the questions replaying inside her mind.
Four o’clock that same day, Faith drove to Midtown and parked in front of the offices of Kirsten Reich, a family therapist whom Jana had suggested Miranda see, even going so far as to make an appointment. Since Miranda wasn’t interested, Faith decided to talk to the woman herself and see if the matter was worth pressing. According to Jana, Kirsten helped people who were struggling with a variety of challenges, including anxiety, depression, and anger.
Faith climbed out of the car. Other than the wind rattling the branches of a few trees lining J Street, it was eerily quiet. She looked across the street, up toward the higher windows, where all she could see were shadowy figures.