And then there was Luke. Holly grabbed one of the couch pillows and hugged it against her chest. Tears burned her throat; not because he’d all but thrown her admission of love in her face, but because she couldn’t erase the tortured look in his eyes. The fact he blamed himself for Simon’s irresponsible behavior was both frustrating and endearing, but that same man who put everyone before himself couldn’t seem to accept he could be cared for in return.
She had no doubt, had Luke been offered the chance to switch places with her son, he would have in a heartbeat. Holly sobbed.
She missed him. Missed seeing him. Missed how he listened to her, teased her. Missed the sound of his voice. How was it possible after only a few hours? But the thought of not seeing him again, of him not wanting to see her... It just wasn’t an option.
She’d let her marriage to Gray die because she hadn’t felt it was worth fighting for. The thought of Luke slipping out of her life paralyzed her. She loved him. She wanted him. She needed him. Simon needed him.
Somehow she had to convince him he was wrong to say no to something incredible. Right now. She switched off the TV, threw the pillow aside and headed upstairs to get Simon. She could bundle him into the car and drive around to find Luke. Her son could sleep anywhere once he was off. If she had to carry him to the car, so be it.
She took the stairs two at a time, knocked softly on the ajar door, pushed it open. Her stomach dropped.
Simon’s bed was empty.
* * *
“SHERIFF, I THOUGHT you were taking the rest of the day off.” Ozzy dropped his feet off his desk and flopped forward in his chair.
“Change of plans.” Luke beelined for the coffeemaker as Cash circled around to Ozzy. “Any update on Kyle?”
“Fletch is out looking for him. There was a power outage over on Wasp Tail. Matt’s out there trying to help.”
“We’ll give it until tomorrow, then put out a BOLO to surrounding counties.” The kid didn’t have a license, but Luke wouldn’t put it past him to steal a car. “Simon said something about him being up to something near the campground—”
“Luke!” Holly slammed through the front door, shouting. “Simon’s gone. So’s his bike.”
Luke barely felt the hot coffee slosh over his hand. The panicked look on her face struck him as hard as that sledgehammer he’d wielded the other day.
“Did he leave a note?” Ozzy joined him at the counter, a frown marring his face.
“Yeah.” She shoved a scrap of paper at him. Luke could see she was fighting to stay calm. “He said something about finding his notebook and proving he was right. I told him we’d go look for it tomorrow, but...I should have realized he’d agreed too easily.”
“Holly, stop. This isn’t your fault. Simon does what—”
“Simon does what Simon wants to do?” Holly finished for him as she arched her eyebrows. “You don’t say?”
How could she possibly pull a smile out of him? But she did. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Simon is smart. He always has a plan.” Even if those plans didn’t always end well.
“He’s hurt. The doctor said he needed rest—”
“He’s a rambunctious eight-year-old boy with a mind of his own. You raised him that way. He’s not stupid, Holly. He’s probably off on his bike somewhere playing deputy and looking for his notebook.” That was on him. He should have listened to Simon at the hospital when he’d wanted to give his report.
“You think he went back to the campsite?”
“I’d bet my pension on it,” Luke said. “Come on. Ozzy, stay here...”
“Yeah, I know.” Ozzy frowned. “Phones are my life.”
“Not for long,” Luke said. “We’ll talk about adding to your responsibilities once we get this Simon-and-Kyle situation worked out.”
Ozzy’s face lit up. “Deal.”
“In the meantime, you can reach me on my cell.” Luke whistled for Cash, who trotted to his side. “Holly, you coming?” He held out his hand.
She didn’t hesitate to take hold of him. “Of course.”
They headed toward Luke’s truck, but as Luke started to climb inside, he saw a familiar figure heading up the hill to the station. “Stay here,” he ordered Holly, who turned around to look out the back window. “Kyle?” Luke yelled, hurrying over to him. For an instant, he thought the kid was going to run. There was a fresh welt on the side of his face and a bruise forming on his left jawline. “Where have you been? Are you okay? What were you doing up at the campsite where Simon followed you?”
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t steal them from those people.” Silver-gray eyes went wide as his jaw pulsed. “I just didn’t want my dad to have them. I thought he might use them on us so I hid them. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Use what? What doesn’t matter?”
Kyle cringed. “Guns. Explosives. He keeps a workshop in the garage. He likes building things, but they always scared me. So I’ve been getting rid of them little by little. Last time, he caught me.”
“That’s why you haven’t been home.” Luke’s ears began to ring. Static clogged his brain and the air in his lungs turned to sludge. “And you’ve been stashing this stuff where?”
“There’s this old cabin up near Milkweed Lake. I wanted to eventually figure out a way to get rid of them, but it’s too late... Wait, what’s going on?”
“Simon’s missing,” Luke told him, heading to the truck. “We think he went back to get his notebook.”
“Back to the cabin?” Kyle grabbed his arm. “You have to get up there.”
“Why?” The near panic in Kyle’s voice set off every alarm in Luke’s brain.
“That’s what I was coming to tell you. My dad was waiting for me when I went home. He wanted to know where I’d put all his things. He said there are things he needs.”
“And you told him about the cabin?” Could the situation get any worse?
Kyle nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think— I was afraid he was going to hurt my mom.”
“Kyle, stop.” Luke grabbed his shoulders as his heart drummed an erratic beat. “You did what you had to do. It’s okay. Where’s your father now?”
“On his way to the cabin.” Kyle’s chin went up an inch. “He left half an hour ago.”
* * *
SIMON’S EYES DROOPED as he hiked up the last hill toward that stupid cabin. He was tired and hot and he wished he’d brought some water with him. The campsite hadn’t seemed so far away yesterday when they had driven out here. But all these hills and windy roads on his bike made his head spin.
“Mom’s gong to strangle me.” At least this time he left a note. But that was ages ago. He thought he’d be back there by now, notebook and proof in hand. Kyle was his nemesis. Kyle was the bad guy. But it was up to Simon to show Sheriff Luke proof if he was going to be believed.
He’d ditched his bike at the campsite, and felt bad he’d ruined everyone’s fun. He hadn’t meant for the camping trip to end, but he had to do his job. His head throbbed. He pressed his fingers against the bandage and winced. Maybe he should have waited until tomorrow and come up here with his mom, but the weather report he’d heard on TV said it might rain. He couldn’t take the chance his notebook—and all his evidence—would be destroyed.
He stopped walking and dropped down on the ground to rest. If only his head would stop throbbing, he could move faster. He didn’t want his mom to worry or cry again. He hated it when she cried. It scared him. But it was too late now. His stomach felt weird. Squishy and sickish, like when he’d vomited all over his bed that one time. All the more reason to get going and go home.
Home. He really wanted to go home. Simon swallowed hard and pushed himself up. But first he had to do his job.
Just like Sheriff Luke would do.
* * *
“Simon’s a healthy, curious boy, Holly.” Luke slid out of the car and grabbed a satellite phone. She didn’t know how Luke was staying so calm, but she was grateful for it. If he wasn’t panicking, she could keep it together. “We’ll find him and get him home.”
“I know.” But that uneasy sensation, the one she’d only felt a few other times in her life, was descending full force. “I’m hoping today isn’t the day he’s taken things too far.”
“I won’t let that happen.” Luke held out his hand and they headed up the narrow path into the woods.
“You don’t think this is him rebelling, do you?” Holly had to admit the thought had crossed her mind on more than one occasion. “That I keep hold of him too tight?”
“I know rebelling.” Luke shook his head. “This is Simon being Simon and not thinking things through. Something that will end today.”
“It will?” Hope zinged through her as she struggled to keep up. Why was he walking so fast? Did he know something...?
“It will if I have anything to say about it.”
“You have something to say as far as I’m concerned,” Holly huffed. A stitch built in her side. She was going to have to get a treadmill after this.
“Right now all I want is that kid home, safe and sound, and for word not to get out about this little excursion of his.”
Holly frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I checked. Three board members and the vice principal of the TrueLane Academy live in Butterfly Harbor, Holly. Given how news travels at light speed in Butterfly Harbor, how long before you think they hear what’s going on?”
“I didn’t even think—” How could she have forgotten? All these months her solitary focus had been on getting through the summer with her son intact so he could walk into TrueLane with a clean record. Considering what was happening now, what did all that matter?
Luke stopped in the middle of a small clearing. At first she thought it was because he was tired, but then she realized how much she was panting. He’d stopped for her, to give her a chance to catch her breath.
“I want to be there, Holly,” he said, and while he winced into the afternoon sun, she didn’t take it for a regretful cringe or an uncertainty. “I want to be there for both of you. Good and bad. If you’ll let me.”
She nodded, not caring that she didn’t have an ounce of breath left in her lungs. He’d just given her everything else. “I want that, too.”
“Okay. Let’s go bring your boy home.”
* * *
“OH, WOW!” SIMON GASPED as he stepped inside the rickety cabin. The door swung back so hard it bashed him in the butt. The uneven boards split to let shards of sunlight stream in. An old dusty table and crooked chairs sat off to one side. Wooden crates and boxes sagged against each other in various piles along the walls. He could see the outline of a tree leaning into the roof and walked in a wide circle to avoid passing beneath it.
He found the flashlight Kyle had left behind and snapped it on to aim the beam around the room, scanning the markings on the boxes and crates. There was an old metal tool chest near the wall where Simon had spied through the knothole, but it was the open box that captured his attention and drew him forward.
Metal rungs held wooden shelves that clung haphazardly to the walls. One sharp kick and the entire thing could collapse. He dropped to his knees and aimed the light into the box Kyle had been so curious about. Long sticks wrapped in faded red paper, with a crusty substance coating the top edge, were stacked on top of one another, with narrow thin boxes shoved into the empty spaces. Bullets.
Simon cringed and he pulled his hand free. He knew better than to touch anything to do with firearms. Even if his mom hadn’t given him the gun lecture over and over, they’d been taught in school never to be around one without adult supervision.
If only he had a cell phone! He could take pictures of all this stuff and show Sheriff Luke he was right about Kyle all along. He hadn’t even been able to find his notebook outside. It was probably gone forever, along with everything he’d written about Kyle and what he’d seen during his surveillance. Why didn’t anyone listen to him? He needed to get back to town and let them know he’d found something dangerous.
The door to the cabin was shoved open. Simon spun and jumped back as a hulking shadow barreled through. Simon clicked off the flashlight, but it was too late.
“Well, well. What’s this? Another thief? Town’s lousy with ’em.” The man sounded funny, his words were slow and lazy, and Simon’s nose wrinkled. He smelled really, really bad. “Just what I needed. Another busybody kid who can’t keep his hands off my stuff.” He stumbled forward and Simon lurched to his left side, but he lost his balance as he grew dizzy. He felt himself falling.
His arms flailed and he smacked against the bottom shelf. The world shifted into slow motion. Boxes toppled. Shelves creaked. Metal fasteners creaked and strained as he saw the floor coming up to meet him. The only thing he could think to do was cover his head as he went down.
Before the wall caved in on top of him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Holly skidded to a stop and squeezed Luke’s hand.
An enormous crash exploded from around the bend, but it was all Luke needed to hear to let go of Holly’s hand and start running. The cabin was barely standing, sagging beneath the weight of decades-old trees and neglect.
“You don’t think he’s in there?” Holly whispered.
He didn’t think. He knew. “Holly, listen to me. I don’t want you to panic, okay? But Kyle told me there are firearms and explosives in that cabin.”
“No. Please, Luke, you’ve got to get him out of there.”
“I’m going to.” It took everything he had not to tell her that Simon probably wasn’t alone. “But I can’t focus on Simon if I’m worried about you. I want you to take this.” He pushed the phone into her hands. “And call the station. Tell them we need all the help we can get. EMTs, fire department. Have them put out the call to everyone they can think of. And then wait here. Cash, stay.” The dog whined, but took up sentry beside Holly.
“I can’t just wait—” He let go of her long enough to hold her face in his palms. He could barely keep his own panic under control. “I’m going to get him out, Holly. I promise. And remember what I told you? I do not break my promises. I stick. Do you understand me?” He focused on her skin, memorizing her face, adding her desperation and fear to his mental arsenal. “You have to let me do this. Now go. Call Fletch and Ozzy.” He pressed his lips to hers. “I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said those words to anyone, and instead of seeing the rejection he’d always expected, tears flooded her eyes and she nodded. “I love you. And, Luke?” She grabbed his wrist. “I trust you. I know you’ll keep your promise.”
He returned to the cabin, taking an extra second to make sure she did as he’d instructed to move down the road and call for help. The responsibility didn’t weigh him down. The oath he’d given spurned him on.
Simon was what was important. Right now Simon was the only thing that mattered.
Knowing what was on the other side, Luke took careful steps toward the leather strap–hinged door. Whoever had built the structure hadn’t known jack about construction. He could hear the wood straining against itself, as if sheer will was the only thing keeping it upright. There was no telling how much time he had. He shoved the door open a crack and had to wedge himself inside. His foot caught and he tripped forward, the door snapping shut behind him.
“Simon?” Luke regai
ned his footing and yanked out his cell phone, aimed the flashlight app around the suffocating, dusty cabin. His mind registered the writing on the boxes and crates, and he took mental inventory as far as safety. There was a massive pile of debris in the far corner of the cabin. And something was moving under it. “Simon?” Luke hurried forward, but something locked around his ankle. He tripped and pitched forward.
He threw his arms out and braced himself for the fall as Rex Winters rose from the floor like a vapor, the rage on his face glowing against the dim light of Luke’s cell phone. Luke rolled and kicked out, finding Winters’s knee with his foot. Winters cried out and dropped, giving Luke time to push to his feet and knock Winters toward the door.
Winters wobbled and flailed, muttered something like “stupid cop,” and fell into one of the rickety tables, smashing it to bits before he went still.
Luke was about to move toward the debris that had buried Simon, but then he spotted them. Faded and aged TNT sticks with crystallized nitro coating the ends, along with unspent ammunition lay scattered across the floor. He angled his phone, his hand trembling as he saw a familiar shoe peeking out from under the shattered crates and boxes. “Simon.” Taking a hint from Winters, Luke wrapped his hand around Simon’s ankle, angling his fingers so he could feel for a pulse.
“Sheriff Luke?”
“Yeah, buddy. I’m right here. Are you okay?”
“My head hurts. And my arm. Ow!” he cried, his movements shifting the crates and boxes toward the explosives. “There’s a bad man here.”
“I know. Don’t worry about him, okay? He’s...sleeping. Simon, I want you to stay still.” He tightened his grip on Simon’s ankle, the only part of the boy he could get a hold of. “I need to see the best way to get you out of here, but stay still.”
It would only take the slightest movement, however small, to jostle one of those unstable sticks of dynamite, and the entire cabin would go up.
Not on his watch. Not again. But his entire body was shaking as he remembered the sound of the ripping explosion as it tore through another room, another young man. Another time.
The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor Page 21
