“Do you think they made it?” JJ asked, checking her watch for no good reason. Nearly ten p.m.
Iris sat back down alongside the old Sheriff. “I imagine if they didn’t make it, we would’ve heard the commotion by now.”
Leave it to Iris to be pragmatic. Except, there was nothing pragmatic about sending her grandson and whatever the hell Harlan was to her on the lam. “Iris, this is crazy. Nothing good can come of Adam running. What happens when he and Harlan get to another county, somewhere else where they know Adam is wanted, but don’t know him? They’re both liable to end up killed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iris said.
She knew the woman was trying as much to convince herself as to convince JJ, but her temper rose with the flush that crept up her cheeks. Before it had a chance to boil over, a soft voice called out from the hospital bed.
“Iris?”
JJ started, wondering how much the recovering man had heard, and how much he had understood.
“Still right here, Ulysses,” Iris said, running her hand over his head, where the gray buzzcut hair still showed an occasional hint of color. “Do you need anything?”
“What was all the noise about?” he asked, eyes not quite open.
“Nothing,” Iris said. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“Lawrence isn’t bothering you again, is he?” the former Sheriff asked.
Iris’s hand stilled in midair, as though she’d forgotten how to move it.
Lawrence… it took JJ a moment to remember that was Iris’s dead husband, Adam’s grandfather. She hated to see Grant’s father slipping in time, but at least it meant he probably hadn’t followed their discussion.
“No,” Iris said, “he isn’t.”
“I must’ve heard something…” the man trailed off. He closed his eyes, but his voice seemed stronger when he continued. “Good. I thought we took care of that, but sometimes it’s hard to remember.”
The door to Mr. Mason’s room opened before JJ could ponder the cryptic remark. The Sheriff (the current one) was still in uniform and held his hat in his hands. He stepped forward uncertainly, like a child who’s come upon something he’s not sure he’s ready to see. “Where’s mom?” Grant asked, looking to Iris instead of JJ.
Iris took Grant’s hand and led him to her spot by the bed. “I’m watching him while she has a little break, but she’ll be back soon.”
“How’s he doing?” Grant asked, reaching for his father’s hand, but changed his mind when his fingers brushed the IV. Instead, he settled his hand on his father’s forearm, thick with freckles and the same auburn hair Grant had inherited. The elderly man sighed, but didn’t open his eyes.
“He’s doing really well,” JJ said. She wanted to put her arms around Grant, to give him some physical reassurance, but she had no more than spoken the words when a familiar-looking man in a suit entered the room. His smile glanced off JJ before settling on Iris. The expression felt more predatory than friendly.
“Ms. Rutledge,” he said. “What a fortunate coincidence. I was hoping to get another opportunity to speak with you. I noticed the patient’s room next door is empty. Perhaps you’d be so good as to join me there.”
It was not a request, although JJ was certain that Iris would have been within her rights to refuse the man. However, Iris surprised her.
“I’m happy to do anything I can to help you find that boy,” Iris said. “Grant, this shouldn’t take but a minute. You stay with your dad and I’ll be right back.”
The woman occasionally drove her insane, but JJ found herself feeling suddenly protective of Iris. She gave Grant’s shoulder a quick squeeze before following Iris and the suited man into the hallway. “Hey!”
Iris had already slipped into the unoccupied room, but the suit paused and smiled at her. “Yes?”
Now that she had his attention, JJ wasn’t sure what to say. She settled for, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Special Agent Rafael D’Antonio with the FBI. Don’t worry, Ms. Tulley. You’re on my list as well,” he said, and leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. An attractive man—early forties and literally tall, dark, and handsome, with the imperfection of a minor scar on his upper lip that added interest—he almost appeared to be posing. Presumably he hoped to disarm her with charm.
“What list is that?” she asked.
“The list of people I’d like to speak with. I’d particularly like to know why you phoned Ms. Rutledge while her grandson’s car was being searched, considering you were specifically instructed not to do so.”
Did he really know she’d called Iris? JJ wasn’t certain and wasn’t in the mood to call his bluff. But outright lying, that she could do.
“I was instructed not to tell Adam that his car was being searched, and I didn’t do that. I called to let Iris know I’d be working tonight. She’d wondered if there’d be another friendly face around when she relieved Mrs. Mason.”
“Really?” D’Antonio said, standing upright and stepping toward her. “I can’t imagine why I don’t believe you, unless it’s something to do with your relationship with Adam Rutledge. Is that why you were so hostile to the officers at your home?”
“Hostile?” JJ matched his step forward with one of her own and felt her control slip. “Considering I found half a goddamned army in my yard—”
“Sheriff Mason tried to notify you.”
JJ paused long enough to make a mental note to check her missed calls. “—Several of whom I’d never met before and aren’t even from this jurisdiction, I think my reaction was justified, and a whole world away from hostile. Plus, I happen to have been dealing with some crazy shit in my own life—”
“Ms. Tulley, I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,” he interrupted, voice dripping sarcasm, “but I’m trying to find a missing child. Just because this time it’s a child you don’t know personally, doesn’t mean his life is any less worthy of protection. I don’t know what Adam Rutledge is to you, but he’s not worth that child’s life.”
D’Antonio stopped and stared at her, gnawing at his lip, doubtless trying as hard to get his temper under control as JJ was her own. Except JJ suspected it was easier for her, because she knew he was right. This was why she’d argued with Iris. Law enforcement should be focused on finding the boy, not on finding Adam.
Grant emerged from his father’s room, glared at them both and said, “Try to keep it down. This is a hospital.”
The chastened federal agent turned toward the room where Iris waited. JJ touched Grant’s arm when he would have followed. He met her eyes, but only briefly. “Not now, JJ.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes, either, and stared at the shiny floor. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I am so, so sorry. For all of it.”
“Just tell him to come in,” he said.
She nodded, but didn’t otherwise move until Grant joined Iris and D’Antonio and closed the door behind him. Then she went to find some privacy of her own. The nurse behind the desk motioned for her as she passed, but JJ pointed at her phone. Things were more relaxed here at night, but she’d been neglecting her duties and needed to get back to work. Soon.
The break room was empty. She had a sudden magical thought—maybe Adam’s still in the parking lot—and went straight to the window. She scanned the scattered beater cars and pickups, trying to distinguish signs of life or, failing that, see if she recognized any of the vehicles. No luck, and she had no more luck reaching him on his phone; it rang through to voicemail twice. He might not be avoiding her. After all, there were more holes in coverage than there was actual coverage in the mountains. And sometimes, a text could get through when a voice call couldn’t.
Call me. You need to turn yourself in NOW, she typed.
Marcus, Trooper, Adam’s flight and the boy’s kidnapping—it was just too much, too fast. And too soon after she’d held poor Rachel in her arms, wondering if the girl would make it back alive or become the hurt her own daughter carried into adulthood. And yet, the thing JJ’s selfish mind dwelled upon most was the distance in Grant’s voice, and his profile as he refused to look at her. Did Grant think she’d somehow chosen Adam over him? JJ’s eyes filled with tears. She held her breath to keep them inside, but one snuck out the corner anyway, followed by another, and another.
“Shit,” she muttered, wiping at her eyes angrily before staring at her blank phone screen.
Then she put her phone back in her pocket, where it remained silent for the rest of her shift, like an unexploded bomb.