Page 10 of Breakaway

Climbing into the driver’s seat, I give my attention to the mid-morning traffic clogging the streets of Chaplain. Andi grips my hand across the center console, the faint tremble easing when I glide my thumb softly across her pulse point. The people we pass have no idea of the storm that’s about to hit this city. It’s just another day for them, but the woman seated beside me is taking in every detail, seeing the world with new eyes and a lot more appreciation for the simple things we take for granted. I field a few calls during the drive, taking advantage of the last bit of quiet we’re going to have for the foreseeable future.

As instructed, we enter through the ambulance bay to avoid causing a scene. A team of nurses and doctors is ready and waiting, having been alerted ahead of time that we'd be the first of many arriving within the hour. Andi and Hudson are taken to a private room, and as much as I hate to leave them, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to accompany her without reason. The nature of our relationship is already murky, and the optics aren’t in my favor when I so publicly lost my shit earlier. Instead of throwing decorum out the window and gluing myself to her side, I make use of the break room, pounding back a cup of coffee before I’m escorted to meet with Mr. Taylor.

Between his hulking stature and the knowledge of him being a Green Beret, I’m more inclined to stick my dick in a beehive than risk upsetting the man in any way, which is rather unfortunate for me, because nothing about our impending interaction could be classified as pleasant. He’s lived through the worst day of his life, but the bags beneath his eyes, the mismatched clothes and unkempt hair, let me know he hasn’t made it through to the other side just yet. Understandably so, but maybe having his son back will be the first step in him coming to terms with everything that’s transpired.

“Mr.Taylor?” I place my hand between us, trying not to wince when he gives it a firm shake. “I’m Detective Cortés. I want you to know that your son is safe. He’s undergoing a thorough examination to ensure he doesn’t have any injuries that aren’t visible to the naked eye. I’m happy to take you to him.”

“Please,” he answers with a nod, his rough response making me wonder how many nights he’s spent screaming his throat raw.

We walk in silence, but I refuse to fill it with pointless babble. I stop the first nurse we come across and ask for Hudson’s room number, but she does me one better and leads the way. Perfectly timed, his doctor joins us in the hallway, his face drawn tight with worry. We’re given a quick rundown of his assessment, and Mr. Taylor is advised to meet with a child psychologist as soon as possible.

“It’s a blessing and a curse that Hudson is only two. His mind lacks the ability to understand what’s happened to him, as well as his mother, but the emotions he felt in those moments will linger. I have no doubt he’ll be just fine, but the road to get there won’t be easy.” With a solemn dip of his chin, the doctor excuses himself, leaving the two of us alone with the weight of an impossible task thrust upon a father who’s wholly unprepared to face it without the person he planned to grow old with.

I place my palm against the door, waiting for Mr. Taylor’s silent approval before cautiously entering the room. Hudson is fast asleep on the bed, but Andi’s hand is clenched against his chest like a teddy bear. She lifts her head, her gaze probing as she sizes up the man beside me. He takes a cautious step closer, doing his best to take things slow when it’s obvious all he really wants is to wrap his arms around his little boy and never let him go. Hudson stirs, his eyes fluttering open as his dad comes to a stop beside him.

“Hey, Huds,” he whispers, stroking the curls framing his cherub face. “Come here, buddy.” Carefully, he lifts his son, but Andi’s hand makes the trip too. She laughs uncomfortably, slowly extricating herself from the vice grip Hudson has her in.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Taylor addresses Andi, saying, “I’m not very good with words, but I can’t thank you enough for saving my boy.” His gaze is fixated on the wall, but the emotion in his voice conveys his gratitude. “I know his mama would feel the same way. For her, the sun rose and set with Hudson. I’m not really sure what to do without her…”

His words trail off, but even without them it’s impossible to miss the haunted look that flashes through his eyes. There’s nothing that anyone could say that’ll come close to alleviating the grief he’s feeling. It’s going to be a mountain of a battle, but there’s a plethora of resources he’ll have at his disposal. It might not feel like it now, but he’s not alone.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Andi responds, her apologetic smile completely unnecessary.

A tap at the door interrupts our stagnant conversation. A nurse walks in a moment later, her arms filled with supplies. She states her name and explains that she’s here to draw Andi’s blood. I tilt my head to the side, my brows drawing together as I watch the way her face grows pale. Without thought for our audience, I take Andi’s hand in mine, noting how clammy her palms are. Like a lightbulb going off, it dawns on me how stressful the action of giving her blood would be when Veritas made a sick game of prodding her with needles every month.

“Would you like a private room?” The nurse questions, her eyes shifting to Mr. Taylor. The only reason they were sharing one to start with was to keep Hudson settled, and now that he’s been reunited with his father, I doubt they want the hassle of a HIPAA violation.

“I’m fine here,” she answers with a casual shrug of her shoulders, but the way her gaze flits to the little boy is telling. She isn’t ready to be away from him, and Mr. Taylor looks even less inclined to be on his own than Andi does.

“Let’s get started then,” the nurse states, using the sink in the corner to wash her hands before donning a pair of latex gloves. I guide Andi to the foot of the bed, realizing she’s checked out completely. Extending her arm to the side, the nurse quickly swipes an alcohol wipe over the bend of her elbow. Andi whimpers, tucking her face against my shoulder. I grip the back of her head, holding her to me as I quietly whisper reassurances in her ear. I know she loathes feeling weak, especially in the presence of others, but nothing about her apprehension right now is a sign of weakness. This is a trauma response to the never-ending torture Veritas put her through.

Thankfully, the blood draw only takes a few seconds. While her arm is being bandaged, I stroke my fingers through Andi’s hair, hoping to keep her focus elsewhere. I purposely ignore the nurse’s surreptitious glances, knowing the closeness of my and Andi’s relationship is being revealed, yet unable to conjure up the worry it probably deserves. Having people speculate about the two of us would be an annoyance more than anything. I don’t play a vital enough role in the case for there to be any grounds for a conflict of interest. Giving us a tight smile, the nurse secures her cart and excuses herself. During the entire ordeal, Mr. Taylor has remained a silent sentinel on the opposite side of the bed.

“You good?” I ask quietly, dipping my head so Andi’s eyes meet mine. Christ, I’ll never get sick of peering into those beautifully mismatched orbs. She spares me a quick glance, her faint smile reassuring as she dips her chin in answer. “I need to make a few calls and touch base with the officers sifting through the compound,” I state. “I won’t be long, but if you need me, I’ll be just outside the double doors at the end of the hallway.” Andi nods in acknowledgment, but her attention is monopolized by Hudson as he starts to fuss.

When the door closes behind me, I give myself a mental pep talk, knowing I’ll need the courage to dial Chief’s number. He’s been riding my ass since I fucked up the drug bust we were working nearly a year ago. Sure, I’ve made some mistakes, but there are far worse people employed by the department than me, and I think it chafes his ass that I was able to bypass the chain of command at Andi’s behest. If it were up to him, I would’ve been neck-deep in bullshit reports instead of working the biggest case Chaplain County has ever seen. My heart has always been in the right place, though, and despite the hit I took to my credibility, I refuse to wager my morals for a quicker climb to the top. I’ll get there the right way, or I won’t get there at all. I step outside, using the empty courtyard to my advantage, and hit the call button.

“Cortés,” he answers, his tone having a bit more pep to it than I’ve come to expect. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was actually happy to hear from me. “I’ve got to hand it to you, this is one for the books.”

His disbelieving chuckle rubs me the wrong way, but I bite my tongue, keenly aware of my position in the pecking order. I get where his initial hesitancy stemmed from, but it doesn’t make it any easier to come to terms with. If he had taken me at my word from the very beginning, could we have gotten Andi out sooner? Maybe, but I hate to think of what would’ve happened to Hudson had Andi not been there to shield him as best she could. Knowing that things played out to our benefit doesn’t assuage my frustration, though, not when I’m aware that Chief O’Connor has built plenty of support throughout his years in office and had he wanted to, there were plenty of strings available for pulling.

“This is going to be a massive undertaking. I’m talking every alphabet agency you can think of, Cortés. The amount of evidence we’ve tagged is…well, it’s a fuckton, and we’ve barely scratched the surface. I guess there’s something to be said for your tenacity, huh?” Another satisfied chuckle echoes down the line, forcing me to grit my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret. You’re damn right there is. “Statements alone are going to be a weeks-long process.” It’s actually pathetic, the way he’s so giddy about the attention this will bring to the department, when we both know the FBI has been heading up the investigation for months now.

“How many?” I interrupt, needing to know while simultaneously terrified of the answer.

“Pardon?” O’Connor’s confusion makes my eyes heat with anger. The fact that he even needs the question explained to him shows me exactly where his priorities lie.

“How many victims did we recover?” I enunciate slowly, my annoyance slipping through despite my best attempt to temper it.

“Seventeen survivors and two dogs who, unfortunately, had to be euthanized.”

I close my eyes, taking a moment to process the enormity of such a number. I knew it’d be a staggering amount, but to hear it said aloud is a shock to the system. It baffles me that a full-fledged cult has been operating without a hitch, right beneath our noses. They’ve all but flaunted the ease with which they’ve been able to deceive the entirety of Chaplain, and we were none the wiser. The reason they’ve gone unnoticed for as long as they have can only be chalked up to their ability to blend in with the community so easily. They gave us just enough to keep anyone from growing too curious, but starved us of the crucial parts.

“What happens next?” I defer to Chief O’Connor, hoping there’s been further talks since I left the compound with Andi and Hudson.

“The other victims are en route as we speak, and we’re hoping to have temporary quarters situated at St. Benedict’s by the time they’re cleared from the hospital.”

“We’re placing them in a church?!” I question heatedly.