They’d cleared it for intruders, but had they searched in the spaces that wouldn’t fit a grown man?
“The garage,” I told Draco. “No one checked the fucking garage.”
My brother kept pace with me as I ran.
Inside the garage was dark. I’d been planning on changing out the lightbulb, but I hadn’t gotten to it yet, and the old bulb barely worked it was so dim.
“Get the door,” I ordered as I crossed the room to look in the corner next to Teddy’s toolbox. Nothing. There was an open area where my bike was usually parked and some open shelving that was mostly empty. The only thing left inside was the Chevelle.
I raced to it and looked inside, but he wasn’t there.
My heart pounded in my ears as I looked at the trunk. It had to be nearly ninety degrees in the garage. If he was in the trunk, it was what? Twenty degrees hotter? How many hours had it been since we got the call? Three?
“He’s not in there,” Draco said, shaking his head when he realized what I was focused on. “No way he grabbed the keys in time and was able to lock himself in the trunk. No fuckin’ way, Curt.”
If he wasn’t in the garage, he was gone. We’d checked everywhere. Kara and the women hadn’t found anything, and they’d been looking in yards for a while. If he’d run, he would’ve circled back around by now.
I looked down at my feet in weary frustration, tears throbbing behind my eyes. Goddamn it. Where was he?
The shadow of the Chevelle covered the toes of my boots. I looked up at the bulb hanging above me, to the open door where Aces and a few cops had congregated, and then back down at the floor.
The thin thread of hope made my palms sweat as I lowered myself to my knees, then my hands, then my belly. Turning my head, I looked under the Chevelle.
Wide brown eyes stared back at me.
“He’s here,” I choked out, staring at Finn. “I got him.”
“Thank Christ,” Draco blurted.
Movement and voices came from just outside as people spread the word, but I ignored it.
“Hey, pal,” I said softly to Finn. “You okay?”
He just stared.
“Draco, call Teddy and let her know, yeah?” I called out.
“I’m on it,” he replied.
“You been in here for a while,” I said, reaching out to wrap my hand around his forearm. He was lying on his belly, arm bent at the elbow, with his palm resting on the cement by his face. “You thirsty? Come on out.”
When I still got no response, I gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
“Come on out to me, Finn,” I urged. “Come on, buddy. I’ll take you to your mom.”
“He okay?” my dad asked from somewhere above me.
“Looks it,” I replied, keeping my eyes on Finn. “Can’t see much, though.”
Finn opened his mouth, then closed it again, moving it around before he spoke.
“I’m caught,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Something on my shorts. I can’t reach it.”
“That’s all right,” I assured him, my eyes starting to water. “We’ll fix it. I’ll get you out. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No,” he said blankly.
“He’s stuck,” I told my dad.
