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“Got it,” Blake affirms.
I go back to Raffi. “I’ve got to go, pal, but Blake will stay here with you.”
Raffi blinks at me, hinting at my PI. Perhaps he hasn’t forgotten that his mother shot the man’s windscreen. “Clay… can Wyatt stay with me?”
The last thing I want is to scare the boy who’s already terrified.
Blake senses it. He suggests, “Let me talk to Crawley again.”
“All right, you do that,” I tell him. Then I turn to Raffi. “Blake’s my friend.”
“But I don’t know him, Clay. Please, I want to be with Wyatt.”
“Okay, pal.” I then glance at Wyatt, checking if he agrees.
“I’ve got you, young man,” my pilot says to Raffi.
The boy implores, “Promise me you’ll find Mom.”
“I promise.” I hug him.
Like the world is on my shoulder, I pull myself up. Blake stands by the door, telling me he’s got things under control with the Anchorage PD.
“Go!” Wyatt says—vigilant, guarded. Raffi is in good hands, indeed. No one dares to cross Wyatt when he’s like that.
* * *
“Jesus, the boy did run far!”Blake comments as we drive to the address that Raffi gave me.
It’s a seven-story condominium complex. I won’t be surprised if someone can pull off a murder inside one of those units without anyone noticing. Sounds may not travel far, especially with the concrete construction and each unit having only small windows.
It’s still bright, like it’s in the middle of the day. I’m thankful that the sun doesn’t set until almost midnight during summer in this part of the world. In saying that, no matter how dark the day gets, I have to find Isabelle tonight. Tomorrow will be too late.
Blake and I head to the fourth floor. He opens the door, which turns out to be unlocked, while I point my gun, ready to shoot.
“Clear!” my PI declares.
We sweep the kitchen and then a small bedroom, which looks to be Raffi’s. Someone has turned this room inside out, probably looking for the boy.
I turn my attention to the larger bedroom, which I’m sure is Isabelle’s.
It’s clean—too clean, and I can smell bleach.
“Something happened here,” I murmur. There’s a towel on the bed, and some strands of her hair are still there. Did she wash her hair before Fletcher took her?
Blake continues sweeping the bedroom while I move on to the bathroom. It’s like I can smell the trace of her scent.
Her t-shirt and underwear are on the floor. And next to it, there’s a bin, and like a beacon, a couple of sticks catch my attention. One pink and the other one white.
“Isabelle…” I whisper to myself as I pick them up.
Elation, disbelief, regret, and anger roll into me. She and her baby had better be alive, or I’ll go on a rampage!
I clutch the test kits. These are the closest thing I have of her in so long. I know in my heart she hasn’t been with another man. I’d bet on my life! But it’s not the time to pause and cry tears of joy, although I desperately want to. By the grace of God, I’m about to be a dad!
I put the kits inside my pocket and move on. Two lives are at stake—I can’t let emotions slow me down. Every fucking second matters!
“Clay!” Blake calls.
