Broken Angels (32 page)

Still, acid tears dampened her lashes, and she quickly blinked them away. Bolt ambled up beside her and whimpered. Lathering her face with a wet tongue, he tried to lick her anguish away. With a gasp that was half surprise, half sob, she hooked her arm around him and pressed him to her side, soothed by his warmth.

There was something immeasurably calming about a dog. The way it looked at you with sad eyes that never judged. The way it gave you a soft body to hold on to, even as the ground slowly rolled out from under you.

“What happened to them, boy?”

The puppy replied with a short bark.

She released a shaky sigh and scratched him. Bolt’s ears twitched. With an excited wag of his tail, he tore out of her embrace and vaulted into the bordering woods. He looked back at her, barked a few more times, then gazed out at the distant trees again. For a second she thought he was trying to tell her something. Then a squirrel dashed down from one of the trunks, and she shook her head in defeat.

Placing the pump back in her pocket, she dug her heels into the sand and stood.

“You’ve been out here for hours.” Tess’s voice startled her.

Rebecca slanted a glance her way. “I don’t know what else to do with myself. I’m going stir-crazy.”

“Where are the men?”

“Zach’s out with the search party. Martin went back home to pick up some things. He hadn’t planned on staying more than a day when he first showed up.” The wind rustled through the trees, caressed her face with invisible fingers. “Have you spoken to Pat?”

“I tried calling him several times. Can’t seem to reach him. Something big is going down. Knowing Pat, he’d going to want to be right smack in the middle of it, whatever it is.” Tess looked drawn. Her skin was paler than usual, and fine lines creased her forehead. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s almost suppertime. You haven’t eaten a thing all day. I’ve got a nice pot of soup simmering on the stove.”

“I don’t think I could eat. My stomach’s shrunk to the size of a raisin.”

Tess wrapped her arm around Rebecca’s. “But Will’s probably getting hungry.”

She was right, of course. Rebecca nodded heavily. She pulled free from Tess’s grasp and lifted the toddler, who squirmed in protest. “I should probably get him washed up first.”

“I’ll go whip together some sandwiches.” A smile fluttered over the neighbor’s lips but failed to mask the dark concern in her gaze. “Drop by whenever you’re ready.”

Rebecca nodded meekly, then slogged toward the house. Beneath a green canopy of trees, Bolt continued to watch her with imploring brown eyes, full of gentle sadness.

“I’m cold.” His sister shivered and pressed her lips together, now a frightful, purplish shade of blue. A real nasty cough clattered in her chest.

Noah drew her closer, tried to warm her with his body. They both wore nothing but T-shirts and shorts, and this place was cool and damp and smelled like rotten vegetables. He’d never had much use for vegetables, even the non-rotten kind.

They’d spent the night on the hard cement floor with nothing but each other for warmth. The room was bare, dirty. Above a row of huge wooden barrels, dust-speckled light poured in from a tiny window.

Noah’s head felt heavy, full of cotton, like his mouth. A swarm of bees buzzed in his tummy. He didn’t want to die here in this damp, smelly room. He wanted to go back home, to hang out on the beach with Uncle Zach, to feel one of Aunt Becca’s flower-scented hugs again, even though he always pretended he didn’t like them. The bees suddenly stung, made an ache spread in his chest. He hadn’t realized until now how safe he felt with them. Almost as safe as he’d felt with his parents.

“I wanna go home,” Kristen echoed his thoughts, her mouth curling into a pout. Noah prayed she wouldn’t start bawling. “I don’t like it here.” Her breathing grew ragged.

He had to distract her before she got really upset. She didn’t have her asthma pump with her, and if she had an attack here…

He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Aunt Becca and Uncle Zach will find us,” he told her, not sure if she’d buy it when he didn’t even believe it himself.

“Why did he bring us here, Noah? I thought only bad guys took kids.”

Noah looked around the small room, empty except for the neatly stacked barrels beneath the window. On the floor beside them sat two bottles of water, two half-eaten sandwiches and a bag of stale chips.

“Guess he’s a bad guy.” He felt like a complete idiot for ever trusting Night-Owl. His dad had been right. Why hadn’t he listened? “Dad knew.”

Kristen looked at him with wet, curious eyes.

“He warned me.” Noah felt his own eyes sting. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s okay, Noah. You didn’t know. I liked him, too.”

Warmth expanded inside him. His sister could be pretty annoying sometimes, but deep down where it counted, she was all right.

He had to do something. It was up to him to protect her. The window drew his attention again. It was small, but so were they. They could use the barrels to climb up, crawl out…

He shot to his feet and ran to the other side of the room. Carefully, he began to scale the barrels.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here.” The barrels nearly slid out from under him, so he grabbed the metal frame that held them in place to keep from falling.

Kristen crawled over to him, crouched at the bottom and watched him with a funny mix of hope and fear in her eyes. Noah reached the window and tried to unlatch it.

“Is it open?”

He pushed it, but it wouldn’t give way. “It’s painted shut.” Using what little fingernails he had, he peeled away the paint. One by one, the chips fluttered to the ground like snowflakes. He shoved the glass again.

Nothing. It didn’t budge an inch.

That was when he noticed the nail. It was old and rusted. He began to jiggle it, thinking if he played with it, it might come loose. From the looks of it, someone else had had the same idea because it moved around easily.

“Noah.” Kristen’s voice was frantic. “I think he’s coming.”

Keys jingled in the lock, and Noah’s stomach did a belly flop. As fast as he could, he scurried back down, praying the barrels wouldn’t collapse beneath his weight.

With a reassuring look directed at his sister, he jumped to the ground seconds before the door swung open.

Chapter Thirty

Rebecca managed to swallow a couple of spoonfuls of soup, but that was the extent of her appetite. The sandwich still sat on her plate, untouched. Thankfully, Will had eaten a decent supper and was now amusing himself exploring Tess’s house, carefully monitored by Jason and Amy.

Beyond the windows, twilight stretched. The painful void in Rebecca’s chest pulsed. Another day was drawing to a close, and the children had yet to be found.

Tess watched her with a somber look, her hands clasped nervously over her bent knees, as she sat across from her in the living room. “Zach should be back soon,” she told her.

Rebecca nodded feebly. “If they’d found them, we would have heard by now.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Zach would have called.” Her tone was flat, monotonous. Despair was creeping in. She was familiar enough with the feeling to recognize it. Only this time she wouldn’t recover from it. It would eat her alive and spit her out in pieces.

“I never knew,” she admitted to Tess. “I thought the absence of love was the worst thing a person could endure, but it isn’t. Love is far, far worse.” She bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. “What am I going to do, Tess? Now that I’ve known them, how do I go on without them?”

Tess reached out and clutched Rebecca’s trembling fingers. “Don’t think like that. It isn’t over yet.”

Rebecca wanted desperately to believe her, but every minute that passed fueled her worst fears. “How am I going to get through another night, knowing they’re out there somewhere on their own? What if they’re hurt?”

Tess tightened her grip on Rebecca’s hand but didn’t speak. There was nothing her friend could say that would provide any real comfort. It would be like trying to mend a broken bone with a Band-Aid.

“Don’t touch that!” Jason yelled, following Will into the living room. Pat’s prized figurine collection had caught the toddler’s eye, and he wanted to get his pudgy hands on one of the porcelain figures—an angel with golden wings. Jason ran to block him. Will, who didn’t appreciate the interference, let out an indignant yowl.

Rebecca pulled free from Tess’s grasp and rose. “I should take Will home. He’s about due for his next dose of penicillin.”

Tess nodded and followed Rebecca as she went to retrieve the toddler. “Will you try to get some sleep tonight?” The concern lacing the neighbor’s words was thick, almost tangible.

Rebecca’s lips curled into a meek smile that trembled at the corners. She didn’t even have the energy to answer.

“Hold on a sec.” Tess quickly disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, she clasped a small bottle. “Sometimes I have trouble sleeping,” she told her. “The doctor prescribed these. They’re a mild sedative.” She placed the pills in the palm of Rebecca’s hand. “I think you need them more than I do.”

“I really shouldn’t—” Her last experimentation with sleeping pills had been a disaster.

“Take them, just in case,” Tess insisted. “You won’t do these kids any good if you’re too tired to stand on your own two feet. You need to rest.”

With an uncertain nod, Rebecca pocketed the bottle. She was too tired to argue. “Thank you, for everything,” she told Tess. “You’ve been a great friend.” And with that, she lifted Will and left the warm bosom of Tess’s home to return to her own, where another sleepless night awaited her. There was no way she was going to take a single one of those sedatives. The last time she had, it had destroyed her marriage and nearly killed her.

Pills numbed not only the senses, but the mind, and she was determined to stay sharp and alert no matter what. She would hold herself together, bite down on the pain and somehow find a way to believe that the universe wasn’t out to steal every pathetic ounce of happiness she was blessed enough to find.

When Zach got home that evening, adrenaline coursed through him like a drug. He’d never been the kind of guy who punched holes in walls, but right now that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to pummel every object in sight. Helplessness ate away at him, laced with a potent dose of fear. The cops had waited too long. They should’ve brought the dogs yesterday, searched through the night. Now, whoever had nabbed the kids had a thirty-hour head start and they had nothing. Nothing but questions.

Becca trudged down the stairs, her hair tied in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Her complexion was pale and drawn. The light had gone out of her eyes, replaced by a flat look that left him suddenly spent.

She’s withdrawing into herself again.

Her expression blackened the second she realized he was alone. “You didn’t find them.” Her tone rang flatter than her gaze.

Zach stared at the blank wall behind her. He couldn’t bear to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the pain and disappointment on her face. “No.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he just shook his head. “Where’s Martin?” he asked, changing the subject.

“He went back home to pack up some things.”

He snorted in a way that reminded him of Noah. The thought of his nephew poured lemon juice over the gaping wound in his abdomen. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before the jerk jumped ship.”

“You’re not being fair. He didn’t even have a change of clothes with him. He said he’d be back to help as soon as he could.”

“You should have told him to forget about it. We don’t need his brand of help.”

Fatigue and exasperation tugged at her lips and brows, and she didn’t bother to acknowledge his bitter comment with a reply. “Did the police find anything?”

She waited for an answer he was hesitant to give. How could he tell her Lieutenant Mason’s theory without crushing her hopes, adding another layer of worry to the multitude already weighing her down?

Her patience finally snapped. “Zach, please talk to me. I’m dying here.”

Sadness scraped the walls of his throat. “They found tracks out in the woods.” He forced himself to meet her dampened gaze. “They belonged to the kids. The dogs led us to a house up on Ministers Lane. It was empty.” It had taken over an hour for the warrant to arrive, while they’d sat on the back steps with the sun bearing down on them, sweating inside and out. “The owners put it on the market over a year ago. Lieutenant Mason and his crew tracked them down and questioned them. Their alibi checks out. They were nowhere near the house yesterday afternoon.”

“I don’t understand. If the kids were playing in an abandoned house, why didn’t they come home?”

“The cops believe someone else was in there. There were traces of a man’s shoes imprinted in the dust, signs of a struggle.” He swallowed to wash down the bitterness that spread through his mouth. “Lieutenant Mason is convinced whoever was in the house took the kids.”

Becca shook her head and covered her mouth with her fingers. “Is this all speculation or fact?”

He ran his own hand over his face, felt the stubble scratch his palm. “Does it really matter? It makes sense. If they’d wandered off, we would’ve found them by now.”

“I don’t understand any of this.” She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking warmth or comfort, he couldn’t be sure which. “First Liam and Lindsay, now Noah and Kristen.”

“Maybe it’s all linked.”

Her head snapped up. “What are you saying?”

“Noah confesses to seeing the guy who killed his parents, then disappears. Pretty convenient, don’t you think?”

Fear came into her eyes, sharp enough to slice him in two. “You think the killer took them? Oh, God.” Hysteria shook her voice, and he wanted to smack himself for speculating out loud. All he needed now was to push her over the edge. But she pulled herself together, gathered her thoughts enough to ask, “How could he possibly know?”

Guilt slammed into him. “Because I pushed Noah into talking to Pat, urged Pat to book a session with a sketch artist. Maybe Pat went ahead and shared what he knew with the Boston PD—”