“You need to get over to the station right now. Layla and Oliver are there.”
“Are they okay?” I stand from my spot and move without thinking.
“Yes.”
“What about Missy?”
She shakes her head, but I remain hopeful. Whoever had my children has Missy, and we don’t have a single lead as to who it might be. Annabelle says something, but I don’t hear her. All I can think about is getting to the station and my children. I need to see them and hold them almost more than I need my next breath. I walk out of the building, leaving everything in a blur.
The next thing I know, I’m parked in front of the police station and I’m running up the stairs and into the building. I don’t remember the drive over here, but I don’t care. I’ve been running on autopilot the last few hours anyway. I sense movement behind me, and with a quick look over my shoulder, I see Hudson and Bear following close behind. I relax a little, knowing they are with me now, as they have always been.
“Daddy.” I hear Layla’s voice as I open the door. Both she and Oliver run toward me, slamming into me with the full force of their small bodies. I crumble to the concrete floor, reaching for them both, running my eyes over them carefully, searching for any sign of harm on their person. When I see none, I wrap my arms around them and embrace them tightly. My eyes burn from unspent tears and relief.
“Lay…Ollie…are guys you okay?” I ask, feeling my chest tighten as the fear I’ve felt the last sixteen hours grips me again, but I push it aside.” Where were you guys?”
“We were with Jerry,” Oliver explains. “He took us to the library.”
“The library? Who’s Jerry?”
“He said you asked him to pick us up from school yesterday.”
“Oliver, who’s Jerry?”
“Missy’s friend.”
“Missy’s—”I begin, but before I can ask anything more, Kurt Martinson barrels out of his office, heading straight toward me.
“We need to get to the hospital now,” he tells me, moving quickly past. “We might have a potential witness. The doctor.”
“Doctor? What doctor?” My head spins as the atmosphere around me suddenly shifts. Layla and Oliver’s bodies stiffen, but their eyes remain on my face.
“A co-worker of Missy’s. The nurses said he’s asking for you.”
“I don’t understand. Why is he asking for me?” I stand up and take Layla and Oliver’s hands in my own, following Kurt out of the building.
“Don’t know. After they took out his breathing tube, he was asking for Missy, but then they told him she was missing and he started to freak out. They had to sedate him to get him to calm down. Now he’s asking for you.”
“Wait, what? Breathing tube? Man, you need to slow down a second. What the fuck is going on?” I yell impatiently. Kurt turns toward me. His eyes flick between me, the kids, Hudson, and Bear.
“Did no one tell you what happened last night?”
“No. We’ve been a little preoccupied looking for the kids and Missy. What is going on? And what does any of this have to do with Missy?” Hudson sounds, raking his hand through his hair.
“All I know is that a new doctor has been hired at the hospital and he came in via ambulance last night, barely breathing—” I hold up a hand, interrupting him. I don’t want my kids to hear the rest. They’ve been through enough, although I’m sure whoever they’ve been with had no bad intentions toward them. Their safe return says as much. I can’t help believing the police think the doctor and Missy’s situation are somehow linked. And that worries me.
“Layla, Oliver, I need you to go with Bear.” I squeeze their hands and pull them in for a quick hug. I look up at Bear and toss him the keys to my truck. “Will you take them to Annabelle and Alice for me? I know you won’t let them out of your sight.”
He nods quietly and looks down at my children. A softness briefly crosses his face, and I realize he’s just as relieved to have them back as I am.
“Daddy, we want to stay with you,” Layla whispers softly, causing me to pause a moment. Torn between staying with my children and finding out what this new information means for Missy, I don’t know what to do, and I suddenly feel like the world’s worst father.
“Layla,” Bear’s calls, and she looks at him as he kneels beside her. “I know you want your dad right now, and believe me, he wants you, too, but he needs to go.”
“He has Missy!” she exclaims, the fear in her voice evident.
“Who has Missy?” Bear asks.
“Jerry does. He didn’t want us, not really. That’s why he didn’t hurt us. He took us for ice cream and then to the library. He said he was her friend, but if that is true, then why did he need us to make her do what he wanted?”
Bear looks up at me, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s trying to place a face to the name, as am I. I look to Hudson, who also looks to be in deep thought. None of us have an answer.
“Are you sure his name is Jerry?” Bear asks her.
She nods her head and turns toward me.” Daddy, are you going to find her?”
“Yes, Layla.” I whisper hoarsely, hoping like hell I will.” I will find her, but I have to go with Kurt right now. Can you help Bear and look after your brother for me?”
“Yes.” She nods again, this time looking at her brother. “We’ll be okay, Daddy. I’ve got Oliver.”
I kiss both my children and hug them hard one more time before nodding to Bear. I turn quickly and follow Martinson to his police cruiser.
*****
I am in my head again the entire ride to the hospital. We need a lead and quick. My feelings about Jerry and what he wants with Missy are not good, and as the minutes tick by, I know the likelihood of her being alive at the end of all of this is shrinking away.
Kurt, Hudson, and I enter the hospital on a mission. I don’t know much about the man asking to see me, but my gut tells me he is the key I need to unlock the mystery of Missy’s captor. We weave our way down a series of hallways until we see Sheriff Holden standing guard outside a room. Kurt stops in front of him.
“Holden,” I greet him with a curt nod. Hudson holds out his hand to the older man, making more of a friendly attempt at his greeting.
“Kingston, Hudson,” he greets both of us. “I’m sorry to pull you away from your kids, but I know you’re going to want to hear what this man has to say.”
“I don’t understand. Who is this guy and how is he connected to Missy?”
“Dr. Adam Beaumont, the new doctor in town. He was hired about two months ago and is a bit of a ladies’ man, if the rumors are to be believed. Apparently, he had a run-in with Missy the other day. Witnesses say he got fresh with her and she put him in his place. Last night, he arrived via ambulance, beaten to a bloody pulp. Doctors are amazed he was even alive, the extent of his injuries were that bad. A group of hikers found him in the nick of time, no less, but he’s still critical.”
“Again, what does any of this have to do with Missy?” I cross my arms, trying to keep myself from barreling past him into the patient’s room to find out myself.
“The nurses had to give him something to calm him, so he’s going to be pretty out of it, but from what we can make of it, he might know who took her. We believe whoever has her is the one who put him into this bed.” He pauses a moment before stepping aside to let us pass. “I ain’t going to lie; he isn’t a pretty sight, not anymore. So, try not to get him worked up. Doctors said he’s stable, but they don’t want to chance a setback.”
I nod at the sheriff, receiving the message loud and clear. I step past him and enter the semi-dark hospital room. The soft beep of a heart monitor greets me and the backlight behind the bed glows softly, illuminating the sleeping man I’ve been told might be the key to figuring out who is behind everything.
I move closer, taking in the sight of him, and cringe. I’ve seen a lot of bad in the world, but the physical state of this man turns my stomach. Whatever happened to him,
whoever attacked him really did a number on him. He shouldn’t be alive. His face is so badly swollen and discolored, it’s a miracle someone recognized him. The multitude of cuts and bruises littered across his face indicates he was hit with a heavy object repeatedly. The fact that the bones in his face didn’t shatter into a million pieces is nothing short of a miracle. His arms and legs are in casts, strung up to relieve pressure and swelling. He looks like he’s been to hell and back more than once.
I stop at the end of his bed. The sound of my breathing causes his eyes to open in a panic.
Beaumont
The soft sound of footsteps approaching my bed nearly sends my nerves into overdrive, but it isn’t until I hear the sound of heavy breathing nearby that I open my eyes, searching for the source. I’m not able to open my eyes much—the swelling has made it nearly impossible to see—but I make out the form of a tall, dark-haired man. Since I know I’m under guard here at the hospital, I know this man isn’t a threat to me.
“Who are you?” I manage to croak, but the vibrations of my voice cause my throat to ache and burn. Usually, I would flinch from the pain, but I’ve learned in the few shorts hours I’ve been here, pain is a sign of life. As long as I am feeling it in some aspect, I know I am alive.
“They said you’ve been asking for me,” he responds and crosses his arms.
“Kingston Cole,” I state matter-of-factly. I might have been beaten to a bloody pulp, but I still have my senses about me and see the way he looks down on me with pity in his eyes. I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding, my anger surging from his observance.
Fuck him. I don’t need his pity. That’s not why I asked for him anyway. It’s not like I’m asking him to be my new best friend. Hell, no. I asked for him, because Missy’s missing and I know who has her.
There’s just one problem.
I don’t remember who the fucker is.
“Finally,” I whisper, feeling the burn a little more in my throat. The fucker who did this to me choked the shit out of me repeatedly and did a lot of damage to my vocal chords. I’m lucky I’m able to speak at all. “You’re here.”
“Yeah. I’m here. I don’t know why I’m here. In fact, no one seems to know why you asked for me. If this is because you want me to find the guy who did this to you or something, I have to tell you I’m a little busy right now—”
“I know who has her,” I interrupt him, because there’s no sense dragging this shit out. It’s best to get to the point with men like him anyway. My head swims from the rush in thought, and I fight the darkness seeping slowly back into my mind, unconsciousness beckoning me to succumb to it.
“Who? Missy? Who has her?” he asks quickly, moving closer to me. His dark eyes are desperate and wild. Fuck, he has no idea who is behind it all.
“I can’t remember his name. Almost everything is blank, expect for words. I remember his words.”
“Then how do you know he’s the one we need to be looking for?”
“It’s him.” My eyelids feel heavy, so I close my eyes a moment, resting them as it is a struggle to open them. He touches my arm and shakes me a bit. I groan as a wave of pain washes over me, keeping me from slipping too far into unconsciousness. “He talked about her a lot. In fact, he believed he was punishing me for something I did to her. I think he believes he’s in love with her or something.”
“He knows her, then?” he asks, but the memory of his words spill from my lips.
“He was angry at me, said I shouldn’t have touched her, that I soiled her with my dirty hands. He kept talking about how he was chosen for her and it was his job to cleanse her world of those unworthy to be near her.”
“Was his name Jerry?”
I concentrate on the name he’s offered, but nothing about it feels familiar.
“No, that’s not his name. I just remember I couldn’t reason with him. Nothing I said mattered. He just kept hitting me…over and over. It was like he got some sick pleasure from seeing me cower and beg for my life.”
“I need you to focus, man. You said he talked about her a lot. Did he say anything about taking any children?”
“Bait.” I swallow and grimace from the sting of it on my throat. “He wouldn’t listen to anything I said, but he never shut up. He told me everything he was planning. He kept muttering your name over and over again, talking about how unworthy of her you are. He even talked about your children and what he was going to do with them. Taking them was the only way he could get her to do what he wanted. She wouldn’t be with him willingly, as he tried many times already with her. He planned to take them after school. At first, he was going to keep them, but then he realized he couldn’t have her all to himself with them around, and killing them would only keep her from loving him. He knows she loves them, and he doesn’t want to hurt her that way.”
“The kids—”
“Please tell me they’re alright.”
“They are. He dropped them off at a library not long after taking them. The librarian approached them at closing when no one showed to pick them up. Layla and Oliver told them I was supposed to pick them up, but when it became apparent they live a town over, she called the police.”
“Do they know who he is?”
“Just that he called himself Jerry and her friend.”
“Some friend he is.” I snort, but it only sends a jolt of pain into my head. My nasal cavity in such disrepair, it’s going to take a miracle to get the damn thing working again. “Kingston, I do remember thinking he was completely out of his mind, because the longer he went on and on, the more it felt like he was carrying on a conversation with someone. Only there wasn’t anyone around. It was just the two of us.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure of it. He kept pacing the floor between blows, and the angrier he got at whoever he was talking to, the harder he came at me.”
“Who is he?” he asks as his hands grip the rail of my bed tightly. I shake my head, desperate for some shred of recognition.
“I can hear his voice clear as day, and I remember every word he said to me, but his face is blank.” I try concentrating on the memory, but the pressure in my head builds to a deep throb.
“Can you think of anything, anything at all, that might help us figure out who he is? No detail is too small,” he presses, and I let him because I understand the grave situation she is in.
I replay my attacker’s rant again, listening for anything that might help find her.
Angel of mercy, she chose me, she saved me…
“He called her his angel of mercy. In fact, he always referred to her as an angel.” My eyes flutter open once again, meeting his. I watch his face fall and his hands stumble as they reach into his pocket. He takes out a photo, unfolds it, and stares down at it. His brow is furrowed in concentration.
“Are you sure the name Jerry doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Wait a second,” I say as a bell triggers in my head. I try to frown, but the muscle movement hurts my face; still, it doesn’t stop the memory from flashing in my mind clear as day. And it hits me.” The person he was talking to...there were two names. Jerry and Tommy. He was arguing with them, but I swear, man, there wasn’t anyone else there with us.”
“Maybe he was on the phone with someone?”
“No, we were too far from civilization for him to have a signal of any sort.” I shake my head and briefly remember thinking how strange the interaction was. I play the moments over and over in my head, his face always a jumbled blur. Everything about him was familiar but not. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember anything else. Whoever he is, she means a lot to him. He talks about her like she saved his life or something…” I trail off watching a dawning realization spread across his face.
“Shit,” he mutters, raking his hand through his hair. “How did I not see this? You said she saved his life?”
“Yes, she is his angel of mercy.”
“Nolan Andrews,” he exhales harshly, raking his hand through his
hair. “It’s Nolan fucking Andrews.”
He turns quickly, leaving me alone once again. The dots I’ve be desperate to connect finally do so, and I take a deep, gasping breath as my attacker’s face comes into focus. He’s right. It’s the young guy who fakes illnesses in the ER just to see Missy. He’s completely obsessed with her. Nolan Andrews.
My captor, my abuser, and Missy’s nightmare finally has a name. Nolan Andrews.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Waking to Hell
Missy
The morning light streams across my face, waking me from the deep sleep I was in. Not that I remember falling asleep last night, but I slowly suspect it was because something made it happen. Or rather someone made it happen.
Nolan didn’t say much after bringing in the supplies he stored in the trunk of his car. Nor did he say much to me as he went about the task of cooking us a simple dinner. But when he sat down at the table and looked at me, I knew better than to push my limits with him for the rest of the night. Even though I had no appetite for the meal, I sat down across from him and went along with it, because I wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences of disobeying him again. My cheek still stung from the blow he landed earlier.
I don’t’ remember much of the meal as I began to feel sluggish and tired soon after my first bite. The memory of the moment might be fuzzy, but I’m sure he had something to do with it.
As I become more aware of my surroundings, I realize I’m tucked into a small makeshift bed with the itchiest material I ever felt pressed against my skin. My eyes widen with shock and fear as I take notice of the lack of clothing between my skin and the itchy material.
Only it isn’t the fact that I am fully nude under the blankets that sends a shiver for fear down my spine. It’s the warm breath that trails along my neck and the hot skin pressed against my backside that does it. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to react as I feel a heavy hand caress my naked side. It moves forward, cupping my also naked breast. Its fingers find my nipple, pinching it hard, sending a wave of terror and pain through me.
“Good morning, Angel,” Nolan’s sleep-ridden voice fills my ear and his lips trail wet kisses along my skin. He shifts, pressing his body against me, allowing me to take notice of his naked state, too. His hands wander freely, touching me wherever he pleases. “I can’t tell you how many mornings I’ve spent dreaming of this exact moment. You feel so good against me. So fucking soft.”
Lost Without You (The Lost Series Book 2) Page 21
