Head Start (Cedar Tree #7)

by Freya Barker

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Not sure,” Neil admits. “I guess anything by that name that would be a location where he’d be able to take you to. Something off the beaten path. Secluded even.”

  I nod at him in understanding and settle in against his shoulder, staring intently alongside him at the screen. He scrolls through an amazingly long and diverse list of businesses by that name when my eyes catch something. “Hold up,” I tell him when he gets ready to scroll to the next page. “What’s that?” I point at a name that for some reason pops out at me. “What is that? Sundance Rentals?” Neil doesn’t answer, but his fingers type a staccato rhythm on the keyboard, and in seconds, a map pops up with a little flag indicating a spot just north of the 184 between Mancos and Dolores. Another click of his finger and a website appears advertising rustic, secluded hunting cabins.

  “Bingo,” he whispers and immediately bends down to retrieve his phone from his jeans. While dialing, he leans in and gives me a resounding kiss on my lips. “Well done, baby. Hang tight.” He peeks closely at the screen of his laptop when someone on the other end picks up. “Drew. You in the office?—What do you know about Sundance Rentals?—How long since it was shut down? I think the place needs to be checked out, but let me call Damian real quick. He may want in on this.” With a snap, and apparently without waiting for an answer, Neil ends the call before dialing again. “Gomez,” he says and my mind starts wandering as he curtly relays information to Damian. I’m not sure what this might mean, if anything, but a small seed of hope takes hold. Then I hear Neil say something that catches my attention. “No. I’m not. Not leaving her. I’ll call Gus. I’m sure he’ll be there. Yes, I hear you; thirty minutes at the sheriff’s office in Mancos. Gotcha.” Once again, he ends the call before immediately dialing again. When I open my mouth to say something, he holds up his finger to hush me. “One minute,” he mouths at me before turning his attention to the phone. This conversation is even shorter than the previous two, and I can’t imagine how anyone could’ve made any sense out of the cryptic message Neil relays, but true to his word, not much more than a minute later, he turns to me. “Damian and his team and Gus and whoever he can dig up, are going up to the rental place with the sheriff. Drew says it’s been empty for a year, basically abandoned when the owners just walked away. From what he remembers, there are sixteen cabins spread out over a couple of acres. That’s why we need every hand on deck, it’s a lot of ground to cover. If by some miracle, Franka is there somewhere and should she be alive, then every second counts. We can’t wait for daylight.”

  “So why aren’t you going?” I finally ask, having sat on that for a bit.

  “Not leaving you. I promised you and I’m good with that.” He sets his jaw, and I can tell he means every word.

  “I’m not,” I say, surprising the heck out of him. “If there is any chance that woman is still with us, you said yourself you’ll need every spare body. I want you to go. Dammit Neil, I know you want to go and I can’t live with any more guilt. If she dies because...” I don’t have a chance to finish that sentence because his mouth is on mine.

  “God, I love you,” he mumbles against my lips. “I’m going to get Emma.”

  “No! Don’t wake her up,” I admonish him, but all he does is laugh.

  “Are you kidding me? Emma is probably in the kitchen already, baking up a storm. She always holds vigil when Gus gets called out,” he clarifies.

  “Well, in that case, help me get dressed and over there. I’m not gonna get in between Emma and her stove. I’ll wait there for you.” I’m already off the bed, wobbling on one foot when he comes around and helps me get dressed in record time. With my crutches in hand and Neil’s firm hand on my back, he walks me down the garden path, Chaos lumbering half asleep beside us. Sure enough, the house lights are blazing and Emma’s red mop of hair can be seen through the kitchen window. Neil knocks on the back door and a startled Emma shuffles over to unlock it.

  “You guys al lright?” she asks, looking mainly at me.

  “We’re fine. I just wanted to stay with you while Neil goes looking.” Emma is obviously surprised when I’m the one answering, given that I’ve barely spoken since the attack, but she recovers quickly.

  “Of course, come in. To be honest, I could’ve sworn Gus said you were going to stay with Kendra,” she says half accusingly to Neil, who in turn lifts his eyebrow at me.

  “I need him to go. For me. I asked him to go,” I ramble a bit as I quickly explain.

  “Better head out, Pup. You’ll be safe here. I’ll have my phone on my body and you call me for anything, okay? Anything,” he presses that point.

  “Okay.”

  “C’mere,” he says, completely ignoring Emma and taking my face in his hands before kissing me breathless.

  “Careful,” I mutter, still half-dazed from that short but intense tongue action. “I love you.”

  A big smile spreads over Neil’s face. “I will and I know you do. Me too.” A quick hard kiss and he’s gone. Emma closes and locks the door behind him before she turns, smiling from ear to ear.

  “He calls you Pup,” Emma observes with humor in her eyes. “Swear to God, I don’t know where these men get their pet names from, but that’s a novel one.”

  I shrug my shoulders not quite able to keep my own smile to myself. I’m not going to admit that every time he calls me that, my insides melt a little, knowing the meaning behind it. There’s no way I’m going to share that. It’s mine.

  “You look better,” she says, tilting her head to one side. “You’ve been like a zombie and frankly had us worried for a while there. Looks like the clouds have lifted some. Of course, love has a way of doing that.” She passes by me on the way to the kitchen where she pulls out a large mixing bowl. “Love. Mmmm, I’m thinking red velvet cake for the occasion.”

  -

  Emma is a great listener and two and a half hours later, she sets a mug of tea and a slice of her freshly baked cake in front of me as she surreptitiously wipes at her eyes.

  “You know, those scars, just like this whole experience, will become part of who you are. Claim them. Make them yours. He may have put you through hell, put those marks on you, but it’s in your control how much more of you you’ll let him have.”

  I let her words settle in my heart. I’ve been a control freak all my life, tightly guarding my actions and my feelings. This past week—hell, even before that, since the time Neil accosted me in the clinic kitchen—I’ve felt the ground shifting under my feet. Control slowly slipping from my hands and where before my head would rule, my heart started taking over. Neil had shown me over and over again that I am in safe hands with him, but it’s Emma’s words that point out the power I still hold. The power to choose what I carry along in my life. Lars Cayman was just a bump in my road. Granted, a pretty damn scary and significant one, but a bump nonetheless, and I’m not about to let it stop me in my tracks, dagnabbit. I stick my fork in the slice of red velvet cake and take a good-sized bite. Emma sits back in her chair, her hands around her mug of tea, and simply smiles at me.

  That’s when the house phone rings.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Neil

  “Thought you were staying with Kendra?”

  Damian is standing in the doorway to Drew’s office, a coffee in his hand. Courageous man to try the coffee Carol, the ancient woman who’s been waving the scepter over the sheriff’s office for many decades, insists on brewing to resemble tar. “Puts hair on your chest,” she always says. Carol never seems to go home, because she was in her usual perch behind the front desk when I walked in. At two o’clock in the morning. Still, no one seemed to think it strange. Joe once told me he suspected she had a tracer on his car, because she always knew where to find him when he was still sheriff.

  “She’s with Emma. Insisted I go,” I admit to Damian, shrugging as I walk behind him into the office which is already crowded with Gus, Caleb, Malachi, Joe, Luna and, of course, Dr
ew, as well as a handful of his deputies. Twelve of us packed in there like sardines.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Damian announces, wincing as he takes his first sip. Without hesitation, he tosses the full cup in the wastebasket by the desk, drawing a chuckle from most of us. We’ve been there and done exactly that. “What have we got?”

  Drew stands by a whiteboard on the wall, on which a schematic layout of what I assume is Sundance Rentals is drawn. “It’s just a dirt road going north off the 184 toward Dolores. Last time I was up there, the sign had been taken down, so you’ll have to start looking for the entrance near six miles from Mancos. The main building is at the end of the dirt road, about three miles up. You can’t miss it. Carol printed off resort maps that show each of the cabins. We should probably divide them between us.” Drew looks to Damian for guidance.

  “Teams of two. Each team starts in with an odd numbered cabin. It appears that although the cabins are spread out, they’re numbered in some order of proximity, so that seems easiest. Clear one cabin and move on. Got six radios?” He directs the last at Drew, who nods at one of his deputies. The moment the guy comes back in, his hands full, Damian continues, “Pick a partner, grab a radio and let’s go.”

  Mal elbows me in the side. “Coming?”

  “Yup,” is my response as I grab us a radio and a map and head out the door.

  As we pass the front desk, Carol leans over. “Got ambulance on standby. Just in case.”

  “You’re the best, Carol,” Joe pipes up behind me.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she says on a snort. The woman may look a little past it, but nothing gets past her. How she knows the shit she does is a mystery.

  Once outside, I follow Mal to his SUV which makes more sense than my truck in case we have to transport someone. I try not to think about the possibility of what we might find, if anything, but I can’t stop the persistent nugget of hope that this is not a wild goose chase. Despite the fact there seems to be sufficient evidence to hang Cayman by the balls if he ever recovers enough to stand trial, there is a sense of unfinished business with Franka Mellis still unaccounted for. For the sake of everyone, I hope we find her alive, but at the very least, for her family, even a body would bring some closure. I’ve learned that indefinite doubt is much harder to live with than the certainty of bad news, in the long run.

  It doesn’t take long for us to get to the turn onto the dirt road, and I keep my eyes peeled for anything that might help us. Being the first to team up, I picked cabin seven. So once we pass the main lodge, we park the vehicle as close to the foot trail going into the forest as possible. Seven is one of the cabins farthest away from the lodge and it takes us just shy of ten minutes to get there on foot. ATVs would have been helpful, but our feet would have to do. The only equipment we have with us is the radio, our weapons and a big Maglite Mal pulled from behind his seat. “Why seven?” Mal wants to know.

  I shrug my shoulders, not sure myself. “Don’t really know. Other than the fact that the guy likes to follow patterns. Seven archangels. I don’t know.”

  “Right, but wasn’t Kendra the seventh? This should be the eighth then. Lucifer. The fallen angel.”

  “You may be right,” I tell Mal. “Good thing that’s our next stop.” I look at the cabin in front of us and note the storm door hanging half off the hinges. The general condition of the old log structure is decrepit at best, with tree shoots growing from the damn roof and the half collapsed deck on the front. It’s a wonder it still has some windows intact.

  We split up and each go around a side. There’s one window on my side but I can’t see much with my little penlight when I look in. Doesn’t take long for the beam from Mal’s Maglite to come bobbing around the back of the cabin. “Nothing round the other side and two small windows up high on the back. Lemme see.” I step aside to give him better access to the window. “I don’t see anything,” he says as he moves along the side back to the front. “Let’s get inside.”

  All it takes is a shoulder thrown against the door for the lock to break right through the rotting post on the inside. The sound of scurrying comes from one of the bedrooms in the back, and while Malachi gives the kitchen and living area a good once over, I move to the first of the three doors along the back wall. The first room still has bedding on the bed, but by the looks of it, a family of rodents or something have pulled stuffing out of the pillows or bedspread to make a nest of sorts in the middle of the mattress. Doesn’t look like this place has been touch by anything with opposable thumbs. As I open the door to the second bedroom, Mal slips into the third door, which I suspect is a bathroom. Just seconds later, both of us come back out, empty-handed.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a fuck of a long time,” I tell Mal, who simply nods in agreement. Looks like cabin eight is next.

  Mal clicks on the radio he is holding. “Cabin seven clear, moving to eight.”

  “Ten-four,” Damian’s voice crackles in response.

  The walk to eight, which is one of the most northern of the cabins, doesn’t take quite as long. I’m jolted in my steps when Mal puts his arm out to stop me just as we get a visual. “Something’s off,” he says, aiming his light at the ground in front of him. I don’t question Mal. He’s proven himself time and again with his tracking ability. He’s got some kind of sixth sense and the nose of a bloodhound.

  “There,” he points with his light. “I’m guessing ATV.” The area he’s lighting up shows the distinct ridging of heavy-duty off-roading tires. Immediately, my eyes go back to the cabin in front of us and I start moving. I don’t even bother with the windows first. The closer I get, the clearer it becomes that someone has most definitely been here. The old storm door on this one has been carefully removed and propped up against the side of the house and the windows look like they’ve been cleaned. Before I have a chance to try the door, Mal busts through. The stench inside is overwhelming and doesn’t bode well. As Mal mumbles into the radio, I head for the bedrooms.

  I find her in the second bedroom rolled up in a fetal position on the floor beside the bed, a dirty pot filled with brackish water that must’ve come from the hole in the roof above beside her. Naked, bloody and with her back carved up, I don’t think she’s alive, but I have to check. The woman looks emaciated when I get closer and my heart clenches in my chest. With a tentative hand, I lift the dirty strands of her hair off her face and neck and almost jump back when I see her eyes open. She is very much alive, judging by the rapid blinking of her eyelids. “Franka?” I ask her softly as I hear Mal come in the room behind me. The nod of her head is slight, but it’s there. “You’re okay, honey. We’re going to get you out of here. He’s not gonna hurt you again.” With quick movements, I pull the shirt from my back and use it to cover her body, trying to avoid the mess on her back. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you? Good for you for hanging in there.” I’m mumbling nonsense, trying hard to contain my own emotions at the knowledge that this woman not only has seen hell up close, but she’s been alone for almost nine days. That must have been a curse and a blessing all at the same time. Starving was a painful business and someone with her injuries should not have been able to survive. Judging from the blood pooling under her body, those injuries extend beyond the now morbidly familiar pattern carved in her back.

  “K...kids?” The word is no more than a sigh from her cracked lips but the desperation in her eyes is loud enough.

  “They’re good. Your daughter reported you missing. She’s a smart girl. Strong too, just like her momma.” I carefully stroke the back of my hand over one of hers, hoping the human contact will bring her some warmth. As I watch a thick tear rolling down her face, I wish I could at least fucking hold her to give her comfort, but I’m afraid to move her. Then I see Kendra’s face superimposed on hers and for the second time in so many weeks, my emotions overwhelm me. This woman had hung on for the sake of her kids. Kendra had sacrificed herself for the sake of her sister. Both of them t
he epitome of courage and selflessness.

  It humbles me. It also heals something in me. They did what they had to do for theirs. I did what I had to do for mine. My team, my men, my friends.

  Perhaps killing that boy was my sacrifice to make.

  Kendra

  “Gus is coming to pick us up.”

  Emma turns to me and grabs my hands, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “She alive, honey. Those poor babies are getting their momma back.”

  I pull one of my hands from hers and slap it over my mouth in disbelief and overwhelming relief. “How?” I manage.

  “I didn’t get much detail but I know Neil and Mal found her, badly injured, dehydrated and starving but with a heart that apparently beats strong. Your man is going with her in the ambulance and asked Gus to bring you if it’s not too much.”

  “Good,” I cry. “Neil will be gentle with her. I’m so relieved...yes, of course I’ll come.” When the floodgates burst, Emma is right there, holding me in her arms.

  Gus gets there twenty minutes later with a smile on his face and doesn’t hesitate to kiss his wife soundly before turning to me. “Girl,” he rumbles, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t think that woman would’ve survived another day. Fuck me.” He shakes his head before cupping my wet cheeks in his hands. “Saved her life, you did. No doubt in my mind.”

  I do a face plant in his shirt, which smells of outside air and sweaty man, as his arms close gently around me. “C’mon,” he rumbles. “Your man needs you.”

  “Such a Neanderthal,” I hear Emma mutter as she grabs for her walker, and I can’t help but chuckle through my tears.

  -

  Neil is rushing to Gus’s big Yukon before the thing has come to a full stop, and pulls my door open. Instead of helping me out, he climbs in the back seat with me and buries his head in my neck, holding on tight. I hear the soft click of the doors, suggesting Gus and Emma are giving us a private moment. My hands rub his back as I try to distinguish his mumbles against my skin.