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“Your boss never should have given that order, son. Carter Owen never should have been near that bomb from the start. But you had his back. You always have everyone’s back. Now you need to be smart enough to pull your head out of the past and give yourself a fighting chance. Simon is not Carter. Simon is alive and well and probably driving Holly nuts already. He’s alive, Luke. And believe it or not, whether you like it or not, so are you. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can get on with your life. One that should include Holly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HOLLY FLIPPED AIMLESSLY through the TV channels trying to land on something to take her mind off the day. She hit the volume control before it woke Simon. She’d promised Simon they could go back to the campsite and look for his notebook tomorrow if his head didn’t hurt.
Holly rubbed her fingers into gritty, sleepy eyes. Compromise wasn’t in her eight-year-old’s vocabulary—at least not today. The fact Simon had settled into bed and dropped off to sleep for—she glanced at her watch—two hours of silence seemed an impossible blessing. Barely three in the afternoon. Was it too early for wine?
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.
