“Ivy, did you… your mom said you were trying to work things out.” He looked at her, hard, and nearly ran off the road.
“I was just trying to get the divorce papers,” she whispered. She was awkwardly trying to get her phone out of her bag; he reached over and rescued it, handing it to her silently. “Do you think you and Austin could go get my car? It’s in Morgan.” She wouldn’t look at him, staring down at her phone, but tears were still sliding down her cheeks.
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll call him right now.” He should have felt relief that she hadn’t been trying to go back to Vick. He shouldn’t have doubted her in the first place. But instead all he felt was anger. He wanted to kill something. Trying to hide that fact so he didn’t upset her was taking a phenomenal effort he hadn’t realized he was capable of.
“Thank you.”
He had Austin on speed dial. “Hey, bro, what’s up?” Austin answered on the third ring.
“I need your help. You up to a trip to Morgan tonight?”
Next to him, Ivy’s phone buzzed. She frowned and answered. “Hi Mom.”
Archer, half-distracted, just caught Austin asking what was in Morgan. “Ivy’s car. She’s in no shape to drive.”
“Her car? I thought she wrecked her car,” Austin said. Good point. Whose car did she have?
Suddenly, Ivy yelled, “What?”
Archer almost drove off the road. “Hang on, Austin.”
“Mom, Vick can’t take Desee. I didn’t give him permission —” She paused, her face turning gray. “No, Mom, I’m not going to spend Christmas with him.” Archer forgot all about Austin as he stared hard at Ivy, horror slowly building in his chest as he realized what was going on.
“No Mom, it’s not your fault. You know how Vick is. But I’ve gotta go. I need to find out where he is with Desee.” Ivy hung up without saying goodbye, and without looking at Archer, punched in another number. “Where are you, Vick?” Where before her voice had sounded terrified and small, now it was hard and colder than Archer had ever heard before.
Vick was loud, even over the phone, and Archer could hear almost every word. “Wow, look who finally decided to wake up. That was a nasty fall you took. You always were so clumsy.”
Ivy swore. It was the first time Archer had ever heard her swear. “Where is my daughter, Vick?” She growled.
“She’s with me. Where she belongs. And you will never see her again.” Ivy cursed again, more vehemently this time, but the grayness had left her face and her eyes were dark. There was no fear in them; she wasn’t shaking. Despite her injuries, she looked, for lack of a better word, frightening. “I’m calling the cops, Vick. And you better pray they find you before I do.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds. Archer reached over and laid his free hand on her knee, trying to offer whatever support he could. Finally, Vick spoke but Archer had to strain to hear him. “You don’t think I’m afraid of you, do you?”
“I think you remember that I took a concealed weapons class to get my permit while we lived in Texas. I think you remember that I also won that competition in Alaska for target shooting. I. Don’t. Miss.”
The line went dead. Ivy immediately started dialing again. After a brief pause, she said, her voice sounding a hundred times more frightened than it had just a second ago, “My husband just took my daughter and told me I’d never see her again. I have a restraining order against him, but he put me in the hospital yesterday. Please help me.” She paused, nodding. “Yes, I’m home.” She rattled off her address and Archer realized he had somehow gotten them to her house — although he didn’t have a single memory of driving there. “I think I know where he is,” she said into the phone.
Archer shifted into park and turned his full attention on her. “His grandparents have a house in Bountiful but they go south in the winter. He knows how to get in.” She paused, listening. “No, I don’t know the address but I can look it up if I have five seconds on a computer.” Again she paused. “Okay, thank you. Please hurry.” Her voice cracked, and Archer realized how close to breaking down she was. “They’re sending someone,” she told Archer, looking up at him, but her eyes were hopeless. In her mind, Vick had already won.
Archer helped her out of the truck just as Bev and Jack came out. “Oh my — What happened?” Bev gasped.
“I fell down the stairs,” Ivy said, limping past them. “The cops are on their way. Vick isn’t planning on bringing Desee home.” Bev and Jack followed Ivy into the house, trying to get caught up on the situation — an impossible task, given that Ivy was more focused on finding addresses than explaining.
“Ivy fell down the stairs and has been in the hospital.” Archer choked a little on the lie. “But Vick didn’t have permission to take Desee, and,” he lowered his voice so that Ivy couldn’t hear him, “he told Ivy she’d never see Desee again.” Bev burst into tears. Jack’s face drained of all color and Archer realized what Ivy had meant when she’d said she didn’t tell her parents her secrets because she was worried about them. For a panicked second he thought maybe Jack was going to have a heart attack or a stroke, but then the older man hurried in after Ivy. This family was much stronger than Archer had thought.
He followed them into the computer room, where Ivy was on the computer. Archer watched her scribble down the address, and then he watched her bury her face in her good hand and sob. Her parents surrounded her. Bev was already on the phone with Kim, who volunteered to join in the search as soon as she heard what had happened. Someone knocked on the front door — Archer assumed it was the cops.
“Ivy, I’m going to get your car,” he mumbled. She blinked at him, like she had forgotten the car or like she couldn’t believe he hadn’t forgotten the car. He kissed her gently on the left side of the forehead — the uninjured side, and hurried out.
When he was outside in the frozen, silent night air, he heard miniature yelling. “What the —?” he muttered. It took him several seconds before he realized it was his phone. “Austin?” he asked as he put the phone to his ear.
“What. Is. Going on there?” Austin bellowed into the phone.
“It’s complicated. I gotta go.”
“No you don’t. Not without me,” Austin snapped. Archer shook his head as he jumped into his truck and started it up.
“I’m not going to Morgan. We’ll get her car later.”
“I know. You’re going after her ex. I know you, Archer. Do you think your little, ‘I’m going to pick up your car’ fooled anybody? I’m right off the highway. Come get me.” And Austin hung up.
Chapter Nineteen
Two minutes later, Archer jerked the big truck off the road and into the empty parking lot where Austin waited for him. “Where we headed?”
“Bountiful. I watched Ivy write the address down.” He handed Austin his phone, which had the navigation turned on and was in the process of telling him how to get there. He roared onto the freeway, his blood pounding in his ears, visions of Ivy, defeated and hurt, taking turns playing on repeat in his brain with images of Desee grinning up at him. He was so focused on the montage of torment that when Austin suddenly swore, Archer nearly wrecked the truck.
Archer looked at him quickly. As fast as he was driving, it wasn’t a good idea to take his eyes off the road. “What?”
“I forgot my crossbow.”
Archer choked. “Your — what?”
“My crossbow. I had it in my truck.”
If the situation hadn’t been so horrible, Archer would have laughed. As it was, he could just give Austin a bewildered glare. “Why do you have a crossbow in your truck?”
Austin shrugged. “Why not?”
Archer hated Bountiful. The streets confused him and there wasn’t enough room on the road for his great big truck. But with his helpful little friend on his phone GPS, he found the address Ivy had written down without a problem. He pulled up a few houses away, parked on the street, and watched.
The police were alre
ady there, lights flashing in the driveway. Two officers were standing on the front porch, talking to a confused and clearly frightened older couple. “Ivy said the house would be empty,” Archer murmured.
They sat in silence as the officers left and the couple went back inside. “Now what?” Austin asked. Archer’s heart sank. He had no idea where to go from here. Now, we start praying.
“I guess we go back home and try to help with the search from there,” Archer mumbled. He felt defeated. Maybe Ivy had been right. Vick never got caught, never got punished.
He drove aimlessly, partly because he was drowning in hopelessness, and partly because he was lost and didn’t know how to get back to the freeway.
Archer slammed on the breaks, almost throwing Austin through the windshield. “What the —?” Austin yelled.
“There — see that truck? I’ve seen it in Ivy’s neighborhood several times.”
Austin looked at him, dubious enough that he was bordering on disbelief. “That truck. That exact white truck? There’s gotta be what — eight billion of those in the state of Utah.”
Archer shook his head. “No, that truck, because the front left bumper is dented in, but mostly because of the sticker across the back window.” He slammed the truck into park and killed the engine.
Austin squinted in the darkness, studying the large power racing decal in the rear window. He frowned and turned to dig through Archer’s center console, emerging with a pair of binoculars. “It’s nice that you never clean this thing out,” he muttered absently as he put them up to his face. He studied the little white truck for several seconds before moving on to the house, watching it silently. “I can’t see any movement. We’re gonna have to get out and go look,” Austin said, lowering the binoculars.
Archer already had the door open, leaping out and jogging across the road. He peered in the truck windows, his breath fogging the glass in the cold night air. A stuffed yellow puppy lay on the passenger side, abandoned. Desee’s puppy.
The house was dark. “Doesn’t look like anybody’s home,” Austin said, staring up at the pink brick house. Archer knew he was supposed to be discreet, but he was too angry. All he wanted to do was bash the door down with his bare fists and rip Ivy’s ex to shreds. Since that wasn’t immediately possible, he did the next best thing. He bashed his elbow through the small truck’s window, knocked out the rest of the glass, and snatched the little yellow puppy off the seat. He clutched it tightly in his hand as he turned back to Austin.
Austin was in a much more strategic frame of mind, and, after giving Archer a look of pure exasperation, darted across the lawn to the big bay front window. Glancing behind him to see if he’d attracted any attention, he peered inside. “Nothing. Let’s try around back.”
The house had a vinyl fence surrounding the back yard, where it looked out onto a golf course. The gate, of course, had a lock. “Boost me over,” Austin said to Archer. Archer ignored him, backing up several steps and motioning Austin out of the way. He rushed the door, lowering his shoulder and slamming into it. The vinyl was pretty and it was made for privacy, not being crashed into and abused. It fell over with a crash. “Well if no one had noticed us before they have now.” Austin sighed, rolling his eyes as the lights in the neighbor’s windows flipped on.
Archer walked over the fallen fence without a glance, his wet boots squeaking across the vinyl, Austin following close behind. They rounded the corner and Austin stopped him, nodding toward a small window in the basement. There was a dull light coming through the drawn curtains.
They jogged across the back lawn to the porch, moving silently up to the door. It was locked. Of course it was locked, because why would anything be easy tonight, and Archer resisted the urge to slam his fist through the fiberglass. Instead he charged it, slamming into the door with his shoulder — he was sure he’d feel the bruise in the morning — and he didn’t feel bad when it splintered at the hinges.
“One more time should do it,” Austin said, and they smashed into the door together. It flew open like they’d hit it with a battering ram. Archer stepped across the threshold and into a kitchen, avoiding the splintered door.
Feet, pounding up the stairs, echoed through the broken room. “Here we go.” Austin said under his breath.
A guy about Archer’s size burst into the room, brandishing what looked like a decorative knife. Austin snickered as the guy swore.
Archer ignored the snickering and the swearing. “Are you Vick?”
“Why should I tell you?” the guy spat. That voice. Archer recognized the voice right off as the one Ivy had been talking to on the phone. Loud. Arrogant.
“Give us Desee back and we’ll walk out of here without pounding your face to an unrecognizable pulp,” Archer said, surprised at the calmness in his own voice.
“I don’t have her.”
“I was there when you told Ivy she’d never see her daughter again. Her puppy was sitting in that ugly truck outside. Where. Is. She.” Archer stepped forward and Vick raised the knife.
“Dude, is that thing even sharp?” Austin asked, finding much more amusement in the situation than Archer was. Vick was shorter than Archer by at least a couple inches, although he probably outweighed him by fifty pounds. But Vick’s weight was all in his stomach, and Archer was a construction worker. To say Vick wasn’t intimidated was an understatement. He backed up as Archer advanced on him.
“Not so tough when you’re not beating up on girls half your size, are you?” Austin asked, almost conversationally, from where he waited in the broken doorway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already called the cops. They’re on their way,” Vick snapped.
“Good. That will save us the trouble. Ivy called the cops over an hour ago. They’re already looking for you,” Austin said, still deceptively conversational. But there was a dark threat under his words, and Archer could hear his best friend moving behind him, coming after Vick as well.
Under his scruffy brownish-red beard, Vick paled considerably.
“Ivy’s a lot smarter than you’ve ever given her credit for. And you’re a lot dumber than she gave you credit for. It all works out nicely, doesn’t it?” Austin was right behind Archer now, and Archer glanced over his shoulder and nodded toward the stairs. Without another word Austin left, jogging down the stairs to find Desee.
“She’s my daughter. Ivy has no right to keep her from me,” Vick whined, the knife still held between them.
“Ivy’s gonna do whatever it takes to keep her daughter safe. From you.” Seconds later, Austin reappeared, and Archer glanced over to see him carrying Desee tightly against his chest.
“Archie!” she cried. She looked okay, but he could tell she had been crying. Archer breathed a sigh of relief, stepping toward her.
In that second, Vick lunged. Archer just saw him out of the corner of his eye and leaped backward. “Get her out of here!” he yelled at Austin, but Austin was way ahead of him, already sprinting out the door with the little girl tucked under his coat.
Vick attacked again, diving at Archer while he slashed with the knife. It glanced off Archer’s forearm, splitting the skin. So it is sharp, Archer thought randomly. Gaining courage as blood welled from Archer’s arm, Vick darted forward. Without thinking, Archer brought his bloody arm back and swung, watching almost in slow motion as his fist shot forward, smashing into Vick’s face.
Vick’s lower body kept coming forward, but his head snapped back as blood burst from his nose and he fell backward to the floor, screaming and holding his face. Archer stood over him, wanting to kick him until he stopped screaming, wanting to take Vick’s knife and… Archer jerked away. No.
Through the haze of red he felt some semblance of sanity, and it was Ivy’s voice. You aren’t like him, Archer. No, he wasn’t. But he wasn’t a saint either, so he stood over the sobbing monster with one foot planted on Vick’s chest until the cops arrived — so he couldn’t try to escape, of course.
Archer k
new he would probably get arrested, but it was worth it. Feeling that worthless piece of — Archer smirked. It was definitely worth getting arrested to feel Vick’s nose crush under his fist.
Over a half-hour later, he found Austin sitting in his truck, Desee on his lap. “I called Ivy,” Austin said as Archer swung the door open.
Desee watched him with big eyes for several seconds before she lunged across the seat into his arms.
“How’d you get out of being arrested?” Austin asked, raising an eyebrow.
Archer shrugged. “Christmas miracle. Let’s take this baby back to her mama.”
Chapter Twenty
Archer was expecting tears. Lots of tears and lots of sobbing. Ivy was waiting for him outside when he pulled up, shaking like she’d never stop; but when she limped over to the truck and wrenched the door open with her good arm, there were no tears.
“Hi, baby,” she whispered. Austin undid the car seat that they’d borrowed from one of the police officers at the scene, and Desee slid out and launched herself into her mama’s good arm. Ivy held her close, the tiny head tucked under Ivy’s chin, and she closed her eyes, but still, there were no tears. “We need to get you to bed, sweet pea. Santa will be here soon.” Holding Desee awkwardly with one arm while the baby wrapped her arms and legs around her like a little monkey, Ivy took her inside.
Archer and Austin followed. “I’m gonna run Austin home. Then I’ll be back, if that’s okay?” Archer asked, his voice low. Bev had gotten Desee and was sobbing over her tiny granddaughter. Even Jack looked a little misty, but Ivy was still dry-eyed.
She smiled up at Archer, an exhausted, pain-filled smile, but a smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
She tipped her head to the side, considering him for several seconds. “You did promise to help me set up her table,” she said, just a hint of mischievousness in her dark eyes.
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