“Sara?”
Sara turned over in bed, trying to get away from the noise. She hadn’t fallen asleep last night so much as collapsed from exhaustion.
“Sara?” Nell said. “Sara?”
Sara woke slowly, rousing from a deep, dreamless sleep. She put her hand over her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Just after four-thirty.”
Sara dropped her hand. She looked up at Nell. They were in the hotel room. After what happened with Will last night, Sara didn’t have it in her to drive back to Atlanta. “Is Jared okay?”
Nell gave an odd smile. “Possum just called. He says they’re going to wake him up. I was about to leave for the hospital.”
Sara forced herself to sit up. She hurt in all the wrong places.
“I’ll go with you.”
“You need to get the door. There’s a man who wants to talk to you.”
Sara finally managed to put together the conversation. There was only one man in Macon right now who would want to talk to her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him. Still, she brushed her fingers through her hair as she went to the door.
And then her jaw dropped when she saw Will.
For just a moment, Sara found herself thinking that she was responsible for the damage to his face.
Then she realized that he’d been beaten.
“What happened?” She reached up to him, but there was nowhere Sara could touch Will that wasn’t injured. Even the blood vessels in his eyes were broken. “Did someone choke you?”
He swallowed. The pain made him cringe. His voice was hoarse. “Amanda sent me.”
Sara could hardly understand him. “Come in.”
Will didn’t move. She grabbed his arm, pulling him into the room.
“Nell, this is a friend of mine.” Sara let herself believe she was holding back details because Will was undercover. “He lives in Atlanta.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nell dug her hand into her purse, but her eyes were on Sara’s hand, which was still wrapped around Will’s arm.
Sara let go.
Nell said, “It’s good, Sara. I’m happy for you.” She held up her keycard. “I’ll be at the hospital.”
She nodded at Will before she left. The door closed automatically, slamming hard against the metal jamb.
Sara knew it would be pointless to go after her. She asked Will, “What happened?”
He put his fingers to his larynx as if he could force up the volume. “We’ve got about an hour.”
She stared, disbelieving. “What?”
“I know you don’t want me here.” He coughed, the effort from talking obviously too much. “Amanda asked me to—” He coughed again. And again. His face started turning red.
“Sit down.” Sara was still angry, but she couldn’t let him pass out in front of her. She found a tiny bottle of Tennessee whiskey in the minibar. “Drink half of this.”
Will sat down, but he wouldn’t take the bottle. He hated alcohol.
“You won’t get drunk,” Sara told him. He still wouldn’t take it.
She stuck the bottle in his face. “Think of it as medicine. It’ll numb your throat.”
Will reluctantly took the whiskey. He opened the cap. Instead of drinking the alcohol, he sniffed it. He scowled at the smell. He looked at the label even though Sara knew he couldn’t read the cursive script.
“Will, drink the goddamn whiskey.”
Her tone was sharper than she intended, but it worked.
He managed to swallow a mouthful before he gagged.
“Christ!” He heaved a cough from deep inside his chest. His eyes watered. He shook his head like a dog.
Sara crossed her arms to stop herself from soothing him. She’d been too worn out last night to think beyond closing her eyes, but now it all came rushing back. Every ounce of concern she felt kept getting overwhelmed by anger.
Will coughed a few more times. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and threw it into the trashcan.
Sara asked, “Are we going to talk about what happened?”
He blinked to clear his eyes. “Amanda—”
“Sweetheart, if you say her name one more time, one of us is going to have to leave. And it won’t be me.”
His jaw set.
Sara wasn’t going to give in. “I mean it, Will. You come in here with your face all banged up. That cut should be stitched. You’ve got blood in your ear. You probably need an MRI. And I’m just supposed to pretend none of this exists, the same way I pretend you didn’t have a childhood and you don’t have scars all over your body and—” She couldn’t go on. The list was endless. “Talk to me, Will. I can handle the strong, but I can’t take the silent anymore.”
Predictably, he did the exact opposite. He crossed his ankle over his leg. She saw the bottom of his boot. The Cat’s Paw logo was on the heel.
Sara had to close her eyes for a moment so she didn’t lose control. She counted to ten, then twenty, before she could look at him again. “Will, your not talking to me about things is what got us into this mess in the first place.”
He swallowed. The alcohol had worked. He didn’t flinch this time. “I’m sorry.”
Sara felt like a schoolmarm, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Sorry for what?”
He picked at the stitching on his boot. “When I chased you. When I—” He stopped. “What I did when I caught you.”
Sara blushed at the memory.
He said, “I was out of control.”
She couldn’t let him take all the blame. “We were both out of control.”
“I hurt you.”
“I’m not Amish, Will. I’ve had rough sex before.”
His startled look told her he thought it was something else.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Sara couldn’t understand how he could be so wrong about something so obvious. “I was never afraid of you. I was furious. I wanted to hurt you. But I wasn’t afraid.”
His eyes glistened. She couldn’t tell if it was from the whiskey anymore.
“Will, I was mad at you—I’m still mad—because you lied to me. Not just once, but repeatedly. Obviously, something happened to you last night, too. We took it out on each other. It’s what adults do sometimes. But you need to know that you can’t just fuck me silly and make everything better.”
He was still upset. His voice was filled with self-recrimination. “I never wanted to be that way with you.”
“Baby—” The word came out of her mouth so naturally. Sara could see the effect it had on him, and she understood that as bad as things were for her last night, they’d gotten so much worse for Will after he left.
Sara sat down on the edge of the bed. “Please, just talk to me.”
He didn’t look at her. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. She could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. A dark red mark crisscrossed the side of his forehead. There was a waffle print to the pattern, as if someone had kicked him.
He said, “I came here for somebody else.”
“Who?”
Will gripped his hands together. He stared at the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft that she could barely hear him. “I feel like I’m disappearing.”
Of all the things he could’ve said, this was the least expected. Sara didn’t know how to respond.
Will obviously didn’t expect her to. His jaw worked again. She could tell every fiber of his being wanted to stop. Still, he said, “All my life, I’ve been invisible. At school. At the home. At work. I do my job. I go home. I get up the next morning and I do it all over again.” He gripped his hands tighter. Seconds passed before he managed to continue. “You changed that. You made me want to get up in the morning. You made me want to come home to you.” He finally met her gaze. “You’re the first person in my life who’s ever really seen me.”
Sara still couldn’t speak, but this time it was because she was too overwhelmed. The sound of his desolation broke her in two.
“I can’t go back to that.” His voice was gruff. “I can’t.”
Sara couldn’t let him. Her anger slipped away like sand through her fingers. She gently cradled her hand to his face. She knew this man. She knew his heart. Will hadn’t hurt her on purpose. He’d been stupid and stubborn, but not malicious. And Sara couldn’t be the woman Lena Adams thought she was. She couldn’t demand perfection. She couldn’t set her standards so high that no one could meet them.
She had already lost the first love of her life. She couldn’t lose the second one.
“Okay.” She rested her hand on the nape of his neck. “We’ll be okay.”
His eyes scanned her face, looking for any sign of equivocation. “Do you mean that?”
She nodded.
He nodded, too, as if he still needed to convince himself. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was wrong.”
“Please, don’t do it again.” Sara closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m your girlfriend. This isn’t just about keeping things from me. It’s about trusting me. I may not understand, or agree, but you have to trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
“You’re right.” He held her close to his chest. His fingers stroked through her hair. She felt his lips press against the top of her head. “I need you to promise me something.”
She pulled back so that she could see him. “Okay.”
“Promise me we’re never going to break up again.”
She started to laugh, but there was a sincerity to his tone that stopped her.
Will said, “Actually, I’ll promise. I’ll never leave you.” He sounded more certain than she had ever heard him. “You can tell me to go, but I won’t. I’ll sleep in my car outside your house. I’ll follow you to work. To the gym. If you go out to dinner, I’ll be at the next table. If you go to a movie, I’ll be in the row behind you.”
Sara felt her brow furrow. “You’re going to stalk me?”
He shrugged his shoulder, as if this was all a done deal. “I love you.”
She finally laughed. “Well, that’s a really shitty way to say it.”
“I love you.”
Her response came as naturally as taking a breath before jumping into the deep end of the water. “I love you, too.”
He leaned in but didn’t kiss her. Despite his forceful words, he waited for permission. Sara touched her lips to his as softly as she could. The kiss was chaste, but it was enough.
He said, “We’re okay.”
She nodded. “We’re okay.”
He held her hand in both of his. He kissed her fingers. Then he turned her wrist and looked at her watch. “We need to go.”
“Where?”
He stood abruptly. “I’ll tell you about it on the way. Lena found something.”
Sara guessed, “A winning lottery ticket?”
“No.” He helped her up from the bed. “She found a little boy.”
Sara pulled her BMW into an open garage bay. There were two other cars inside the metal structure, which was several yards from a sprawling, single-story house. They were on a horse farm. She could see a few mares and a colt out by a red barn. The sun was just cracking the horizon. The horses silently chewed some grass as they watched the garage door close.
Sara recognized the black Suburban parked beside them as a G-ride, or a government-issued SUV. She assumed either Faith or Amanda was here. The sheriff’s cruiser in the far bay probably belonged to the owner of the farm. Keeping horses was as costly as it was risky. Normally, amateur farmers had to seek out more steady employment. Sara had been thrown from a horse twice in her life. She imagined owning a horse farm was only marginally less dangerous than being a sheriff’s deputy.
Will got out of the car. He opened the back door and retrieved her medical bag from the back seat. He didn’t hand Sara the bag. He carried it for her.
“This way,” Will said, heading toward a side door.
Sara followed him as he picked his way past various small machinery taking up the last bay in the four-bay garage. She took Will’s hand to steady herself as she stepped over a tractor attachment that looked like a gigantic yard rake. He held on longer than necessary. She stroked his fingers with her thumb, wishing she could erase the past twenty-four hours and start all over again. Or maybe not. In so many strange ways, she felt closer to Will than ever before.
Faith opened the door before Will could. She avoided looking at Sara. “Find it okay?”
Sara said, “The GPS led us straight here.”
“Good.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of Jolly Ranchers candy. “The boy’s still asleep. We didn’t want to wake him until we had to. Denise and her girlfriend are in the house with one of the paramedics. The doctor read the message board, so he knows not to come.”
“Sounds good.” Will took the candy and shoved it into his pocket. “I’ve got around two hours before I’m due at the hospital.
What’s the plan?”
Sara felt her stomach lurch at the thought of him going back undercover, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Faith said, “The other paramedic is on her way with the bus. I was about to head over to dispatch. I want to be sitting on the supervisor so no one panics when they go off-radio. We don’t know how far this thing reaches. I’ll stay there until I get the word that the boy’s in Atlanta.”
Will asked, “Who’s going to follow the ambulance? Sara’s not going without backup.”
“Denise will be behind them the whole way. She’ll have her piece and her shotgun. Amanda thinks a larger escort team would alert Big Whitey.”
Will held out his phone to Sara. “Use this to check in with Faith every half hour.”
Sara tried not to bristle at being ordered around. “I’ve got my hospital BlackBerry.”
“The 689 number?” She nodded, and he pocketed his phone. “I’m serious. These people don’t mind collateral damage. You need to call Faith every half hour until you’re safe at the hospital.”
Sara wasn’t sure this was necessary, but Will didn’t give her a chance to disagree. He headed toward the house. She saw him take one of the candies out of his pocket. Instead of peeling away the wrapper, he bit it off with his teeth.
Again, Sara followed Will. He was back in top form—back in charge. Even in that awful maintenance uniform, he seemed like his old self. She watched him walk, the easy, athletic gait, the muscular line of his broad shoulders. Her big, tough cop. If Sara was trim, at least she was the kind of trim who didn’t settle.
Faith walked beside Sara. She was silent as they trudged across the yard. The tension crackled between them like static electricity.
Sara said, “You are a fantastic liar.”
Faith grinned. “I really am.”
Sara couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.
Faith asked, “Did Will fill you in?”
“He told me everything.”
Faith raised an eyebrow.
“Everything that’s happened in Macon,” Sara amended. Will had started talking the minute they’d left the hotel room. She’d never heard him speak for such an extended period of time. He’d told her about Lena’s emailed tip, the rednecks, the boy found in the basement and Denise Branson’s part in protecting him. The only detail Sara could’ve done without was the fact that Will had been riding a motorcycle, but even her shocked gasp did not stop him from talking. She’d actually slowed the car at one point, relishing his sudden candor, wishing he would extend it to the rest of his life. His childhood. His family. His bad marriage.
There weren’t enough miles in the road.
Faith said, “Remember when you told me a while ago that you had to be on Will’s side?”
Sara remembered the conversation well. Faith had asked her for details about Will’s background. Sara hadn’t felt right about sharing what little she knew. “I get it. You need to be on his side, too.”
Faith smiled, obviously relieved.
Sara asked, “Did the doctor give you any treatment information?”
“The first few days, he gave the boy fluids, a round of antibiotics, but that was it. He’s mostly been dropping by to give him a sense of routine and make sure nothing new pops up.”
“That probably helped more than anything else. Kids always need structure.”
“He’s still in survival mode. Denise thinks his food might’ve been drugged while they held him. He won’t drink Coke, but he’ll drink bottled water. He tears everything apart like he’s looking for a pill. He’ll eat a bite, then wait to see if it makes him sick or sleepy, then he’ll eat another bite. They’ve tried feeding him stuff that isn’t easily tampered with, like fruit roll-ups and deli meats. He still breaks it apart before he eats it.”
Sara nodded because there was nothing to say. She felt overwhelmed by the knowledge of the terrible things that happened to children. Faith must’ve been feeling the same. She was quiet until they reached the house.
The door opened and a petite African American woman came out. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but she had a gun on her hip and looked capable of using it. Her toned arms indicated she was no stranger to farm work. She spoke in a surprisingly soft voice. “Are you the doctor?”
“Yes,” Sara told her.
The woman rested her hand on the butt of her gun as she stepped aside, letting them enter the house.
The kitchen was warm and cheerful. Obviously, the owner wasn’t into decorating, but she’d managed to create a welcoming space with lots of soft wood tones. Sara guessed Denise Branson was the woman sitting at the table. She had the look of someone who’d lost everything that mattered. She slumped at the table. A mug of tea was in front of her. Rather than drink it, she aimlessly stirred the tea bag around by the string.
Faith said, “Denise?”
Denise looked up, managing a strained smile. “Dr. Linton?”
“Sara.” She offered her hand to the woman. “I hear you’ve been taking good care of my patient.”
Denise gave a wary look, as if she wondered whether or not Sara was making a cruel joke.
Faith covered the awkward moment. She opened the kitchen door. “I’m going to head over to dispatch. Just call me when you’re ready. Will, keep your phone on you at all times.”
He nodded before she left. Sara didn’t like the look that passed between them.
The deputy locked the deadbolt with a key that she put in her pocket. “I’m Lila, by the way. Jasmine’s in the back with the boy. You’re Will?”
“Yes,” Will answered. He put Sara’s medical bag on the counter and shook Lila’s hand.
The deputy had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I already said this to your partner, but thank you for doing this. We’ve been going it alone for a while.”
“You’re not alone anymore,” Will told her. And then his eyes lit up when he noticed the box of Pop-Tarts by the stove. “Do you mind?”
She retrieved the box for him. “Help yourself.”
Will swallowed the candy in his mouth. He coughed several times, but that didn’t stop him from ripping open the packet.
Lila told Sara, “The boy’s still asleep. I haven’t fed him yet. I was going to make crepes. He wouldn’t eat the pancakes yesterday. I think they were too thick.”
Sara asked, “Do you eat with him, or just serve him?”
Lila was at the open refrigerator. She seemed disappointed in herself. “Damn. If he sees us eating the food, he knows it’s safe.” She shook her head as she took out a carton of eggs and a jug of milk. “I just served him a tray the same as his captors probably did.”
Sara tried to take away some of the guilt. “You guys have been here all along. It’s easy for me to come in with a fresh eye.”
Lila said, “He won’t leave the room. I put a television in there for him. He keeps the sound off, reads the captions. Denise got him some books, but he won’t touch them. They can read at that age, right?”
“Yes,” Sara answered. “He’s probably used to having to read aloud, though.”
“He read to his mom,” Denise said, more to herself.
Will had finished one packet of Pop-Tarts. He opened another. “Did you try video games?”
Lila’s face fell again. “Video games.” She asked Denise, “Why didn’t we think of that?” She scraped a pat of butter into the frying pan. “I should’ve taken my brother’s Xbox. He’s too old to play it, anyway.”
Denise said, “We should’ve left him to the experts all along.”
“You kept him safe,” Sara said. “That’s all that matters.”
Denise stared down at her tea again. Lila started cracking eggs into a bowl.
Sara wondered what would become of these women. Denise Branson was looking at disciplinary actions, possibly criminal charges, but her fate rested with Lonnie Gray. From what Sara knew about the man, he was fair, but he also believed in swift justice. She hoped that Lila was safe. Unless someone told the sheriff, the deputy’s part in this enterprise would remain anonymous.
“He’s awake.” Sara guessed from the paramedic’s uniform that the woman in the doorway was Jasmine. Like her friends, she was petite, but there was something about her that indicated she wasn’t going to be messed with. Faith had the same bearing. Sara guessed that knowing you could take down a two-hundred-pound ex-marine like Paul Vickery with a steel baton engendered a certain amount of confidence.
Sara said, “I’d like to go ahead and see him now.”
Lila moved the skillet off the burner. “We’ll go with you.”
“Maybe not all of you.” Sara chose her words carefully. “You’ve been so good to him. You’ve taken care of him. Denise, you literally rescued him.” She paused. “He might feel that you won’t like him anymore if he tells you what happened.”
Again, Lila was quick to find fault with her own actions.
“We’ve been reinforcing his silence by walking on eggshells.”
Sara corrected, “You provided a safe environment for him to heal.”
Lila turned back to her cooking. She didn’t seem mollified.
Sara told Will, “You come, too.”
They all seemed to recoil at the idea.
Sara said, “I know it seems counterintuitive, but sometimes victims feel safer with men around. They think that brute strength can protect them.”
Lila acknowledged, “I’ve had rape victims ask for a male detective. Sometimes, not always.”
Will seemed more hesitant than any of them. “Are you sure?”
Sara advised, “Just sit down when you get in the room. Let him get used to you first. Seven-year-olds are highly adaptable. They’re also extremely inquisitive. He’ll want to know details about what’s going on, what’s happening next.”
“We didn’t tell him anything,” Lila said. “We just kept saying he was safe.”
Jasmine offered, “That’s what he needed, Lila. You heard the doctor. He needed to feel safe and we made him safe.” She looked at Will. “I don’t know about you, though. I’m sorry, but he’s just a little boy, and the people who hurt him looked a hell of a lot like you.”
Sara didn’t want to force it, but she said, “I’d really like him in the room. I think it would help.”
The tension seemed to ramp up. Lila was the first one to break the silence. “She’s been right about the other stuff. I say we give it a shot. If the boy freaks out, then Will can always leave, right?”
Will readily agreed. “Right.”
Denise and Jasmine exchanged a look. Sara could tell they were used to acting by consensus.
Lila said, “Dee, if something ain’t working, then you stop doing it and try something else.”
Denise said, “The boy’s already broken.”
Lila pointed at her with the spatula. “Maybe it’s time we let the professionals help put him back together.”
Denise cupped her hands around her mug. She looked at the dark tea. Finally, she said, “All right. But the minute he even starts to look upset, you have to promise to leave.”
“I promise,” Will said, though he still seemed to be the most reluctant person in the room.
Denise stood up from the table. “I’ll be right outside the door so he knows I’m there.”
“Thank you.” Sara retrieved her medical bag from the counter.
Denise preceded them down the hallway. Sara could tell the woman wanted to stop this, to push both Will and Sara out of the house and do what she’d been doing from the moment she’d rescued the boy from that dark basement. They had been protecting the child for more than a week. They had tended him, fed him, looked over him like guardian angels. Letting a six-foot-three man waltz into the room seemed like the last thing the boy needed.
At first, it looked as if the boy agreed. His eyes went wide when he saw Will. He shot up in bed, his back pressed against the headboard.
Denise gently soothed, “It’s okay, baby. These people are friends of ours. They’re here to help you.”
The boy pulled up the sheet around his chest. They had dressed him in Spider-Man pajamas and put matching linens on the bed. There were toys on every available surface—Matchbox cars, a giant Transformer, enough Legos to build a small town. Picture books were stacked on the dresser. Nothing looked as if it had been touched. Someone had obviously gone to the local children’s store and asked the clerk exactly what to buy for a seven-year-old boy, but this particular seven-year-old wasn’t interested.
“Good morning.” Sara entered the room, keeping her tone as even as possible. She’d always made it a practice to never talk down to children. “I’m Dr. Linton. This is Agent Trent. He’s a police officer, but he works for the state, which is why they call him an agent instead of a detective.” She indicated for Will to enter the room. “Dr. Thomas isn’t going to be here this morning. He told me to say hello to you. I’m going to look after you if that’s okay.”
The boy didn’t move, but he didn’t protest, either.
Sara did a quick visual exam. Dr. Thomas had done a good job. For all intents and purposes, the boy looked like any healthy seven-year-old. His color was good. His weight appeared to be on the low-normal side. There were no indications of dehydration or neglect. The wounds on his face were healing well. Except for his fearful, cowering demeanor, she would never have guessed that the boy had been abducted.
Sara motioned Will toward the chair in the corner. “Agent Trent’s been in a fight with some very bad men. That’s why his face is bruised. You can see the red marks on his neck. They’re going to heal in a few weeks. Have you ever been bruised before?”
The boy stared at Will. He gripped the sheets up around his neck.
Sara continued, “In about two days, Agent Trent’s bruises will look dark purple or maybe even black.” She opened her medical bag. “Around ten days from now, they’ll start to turn green, then they’ll turn brown, then after about two and a half weeks, they’ll just disappear.” She asked the boy, “You’ve been bruised before, right?”
He still didn’t answer, but he looked at Sara now instead of Will.
“I’m going to put my fingers on your wrist, okay?” The boy didn’t flinch when Sara took his pulse. By seven years, he’d probably been to a doctor’s office dozens of times. He was used to the routine of examination.
Sara asked, “Do you know what causes a bruise?”
The boy didn’t respond, but she could tell he was listening.
“It’s blood trapped underneath the skin. That’s kind of gross, isn’t it?”
He stared at Sara.
“Well, I think it’s gross, and I’m a doctor.”
The boy’s gaze went back to Will, but he was studying him now rather than staring.
Sara pulled out her stethoscope. It was an old one she kept as a spare. Her parents had bought it for her when she first entered medical school. Sara held the chestpiece to her mouth and warmed it with her breath. The boy didn’t need to be told what to do. He leaned forward in the bed so Sara could listen to his lungs.
She pulled up the back of his shirt. There were burns on his skin. Sara pretended to ignore them.
“Deep breath,” she said, then listened longer than necessary. Dr. Thomas had treated the burns, but left them uncovered to prevent infection. There would be scars—scars similar to the ones Sara had seen on Will.
“Wow,” she finally said. “Your lungs are very strong.” The boy leaned back so she could listen to his heart. He gripped the sheets at his waist now, but his head kept turning in a triangle pattern. He looked at Denise, who stood in the doorway, then back at Will, then up at Sara. He was constantly checking his surroundings. His fingers worked the hem of the sheets as if he wanted to be ready at any minute to hide under the covers.
Sara told the boy, “You know you’re in the state of Georgia, right? That’s right above Florida.”
The boy didn’t answer, though there was something in his expression that told Sara that she was telling him things he already knew.
Sara said, “In a few minutes, we’re going to ride in an ambulance like you did before. Only this time, we’re taking you to Atlanta.” She paused. He was paying close attention now. “The trip will take about an hour and a half. When we get there, you’ll be at a hospital. I’ll be with you the entire time.”
The boy looked at Denise.
She told him, “Jasmine and Vivica will drive you. I’ll be in the car behind the ambulance. Lila will come up later to check on you.” She smiled as if they both shared a secret. “I told you we’re not going anywhere.”
Sara guessed Vivica was the other paramedic. She told the boy, “We won’t have the siren on because this isn’t an emergency. You’re not sick. You’re probably just tired and very scared. And you’re not talking, so I need to look inside your mouth and make sure nothing’s stopping you. Okay?”
The boy’s eyes snapped back to Sara. He knew she wouldn’t find a medical explanation for his silence.
“Just give me one second.” Sara dug around in her bag the same way Nell did when she wanted to look busy. “I don’t have a tongue depressor,” she lied. She turned to Denise. “Do you have any Popsicles?”
Denise obviously didn’t understand. “Popsicles?”
“I can use the wooden stick for a tongue depressor. Maybe there’s some in the freezer?” She stared her meaning into Denise. “Could you go look?”
Denise obviously didn’t want to. Still, she told the boy, “I’ll be in the kitchen. Okay?”
The boy didn’t nod, but there was some sort of unspoken language between him and Denise. She understood that his permission to leave was granted.
Sara rummaged around in her bag again. She said, “I like Denise a lot. Don’t you, Agent Trent?”
Will had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Yes. They’re all very good people.”
She told the boy, “Agent Trent sounds funny because his throat is sore.”
The boy looked at Will again, probably taking in the bruises ringing his neck.
She said, “Agent Trent doesn’t like to brag, but he knows some good jokes. Don’t you?”
Will looked stunned, then slightly panicked.
She tried not to use the same tone as she had with the boy. “Why don’t you tell him a joke?”
Will seemed at a loss for words. He was always telling her silly jokes. She had no idea why he couldn’t think of any now.
Sara prompted. “How about SpongeBob? Didn’t he get into some trouble lately?”
Will took a candy out of his pocket. He fumbled with the wrapper. Sara was about to let him off the hook when he said, “Butterflies taste with their feet.”
The boy just stared at him. Sara did, too. She had no idea what he was talking about.
Will popped the candy into his mouth. “Butterflies don’t have mouths that can chew or bite, but they’ve got these straw things that they use to suck nectar. That’s how they eat.” He cleared his throat. “But how do they know what to eat? They land on leaves and things with their feet, and that’s how they taste whether or not it’s good. Their taste buds are in their feet.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. He was skeptical, but intrigued.
Will could obviously tell this, too. He pulled his chair a few inches closer to the bed. “Did you know that most turtles can breathe through their butts?”
The boy shot an excited look at Sara, probably because Will had said “butt.”
“It’s true.” Will pulled his chair closer. “They’ve got these little air sacs in their butts. So they keep their heads down under water and just stick up their butts when they need to breathe.”
The boy had stopped gripping the sheet around him. He stared at Will with open curiosity.
Will said, “Actually, I just heard there was some kind of battle going on in the forest.” He cleared his throat again. She hoped he didn’t get cut off by another coughing fit. He said, “Insects versus the animals. Did you hear about this?”
The boy still would not answer, but he was leaning slightly forward.
Sara said, “I think I read about it in the newspaper.”
“I’m sure you did. It’s been all over the news.” Will asked the boy, “Did you see it on television?”
There was an almost imperceptible movement from the boy as he shook his head.
Will told him, “They finally decided to have it out. The animals and the insects. They scheduled a football game. The winner gets to be the king of the forest forever and a day. And I mean forever, plus an extra full day.” Will leaned his elbows on his knees. He asked the boy, “Are you sure you didn’t hear about this game? It was huge.”
This time, the headshake was more apparent.
“It was an epic game,” Will said. “I mean, unforgettable. For years, the insects and the animals will be telling their kids about it.”
The boy leaned forward even more, waiting.
“The first two quarters, it was no contest. The animals were pounding the insects. I mean, obviously, they’ve got physical superiority.” Will feigned throwing a football. “One after the other, touchdown, touchdown, touchdown. The animals dominated the field. The insects couldn’t do anything to stop them. Then halftime comes.” Will held up his hands as if to stop everything. “The insects were crying like babies in the locker room. They were going to lose this thing. They knew it. They could feel it in their exoskeletons. Humiliation for the rest of their lives. But they still go back out onto the field. They can’t just walk away, right? Not after all these years. They may be invertebrates, but they’re not quitters. Am I right?”
The boy nodded. He was hanging on Will’s every word.
“So, they start the third quarter, and suddenly, the caterpillar walks onto the field. He’s strutting his stuff. He takes up the wide receiver position—and I mean really wide. You can imagine the turning radius on this thing. So, the cricket snaps the ball, and suddenly, whoosh”—Will swooped his hands through the air—“the caterpillar takes off. He’s hogging the ball, running up and down the field like crazy. Touchdown after touchdown. I mean, the caterpillar is on fire. He doesn’t just win the game. He runs up the score. At the end, it’s animals 34, insects 212.”
The boy’s lips parted at the very thought.
“The insects are ecstatic,” Will continued. “They all run out onto the field. They lift the caterpillar up in the air. They’re carrying him around. They can’t believe it. They’re king of the forest forever and a day. And then somebody says to the caterpillar, ‘We could’ve won this thing before halftime, man. Where were you all that time?’ ” Will paused for effect. “And the caterpillar says, ‘Puttin’ on my shoes!’ ”
The boy sucked in a shocked breath, then exploded with laughter. His mouth opened. He doubled over. His tiny fists were clenched from the effort. He looked at Sara, as if to ask, Can you believe that? Sara didn’t have to pretend to laugh along with him. The boy’s unrestrained joy was the sweetest thing she’d heard in a long while.
He fell over onto his side. The sheets were a forgotten memory. For a brief moment, he was just a kid again.
Then, like a curtain being drawn, the laughter died out and the memories came crushing in. Slowly, the boy pushed himself back up against the headboard. He tucked the sheets tightly around his waist.
Will pulled a handful of Jolly Ranchers out of his pocket. “You want one?”
The boy chose a watermelon-flavored candy. With careful dexterity, he peeled away the wrapper. Sara held out her hand for the trash. The boy’s lips puckered as he sucked on the candy. Something was different. She knew that his guard was still up, but there was daylight between the cracks now.
“You know,” Will began, “the man who did this to my face will be in a lot of trouble when they catch him.” He crossed his ankle over his knee, casual. “He’ll end up in prison for the rest of his life. Maybe Denise or Lila will arrest him. Or maybe somebody else. There are a lot of cops out there who are good people. They make sure that the bad guys get locked up so they can’t hurt anybody else.”
The boy rolled the candy around in his mouth. Sara could hear it click against his teeth.
Will said, “People who do bad things always get caught. Did you know that?”
The boy seemed to consider the question. Finally, he shook his head.
“You don’t know it or you don’t think it’s true?” Will asked. The boy shook his head again, then stopped. Instead of talking, he held up two fingers.
Will said, “You don’t think that’s true?” The boy nodded.
Will told him, “I know you’re a smart little boy, but you’re wrong about that. This is what I do for a job. I chase down bad people and I lock them up.”
The boy looked down at the sheet. He picked at the stitching again.
“I arrested some really bad guys a few months ago. They told this little boy that his mommy and daddy would get hurt if he talked to the police.”
The boy looked up, shocked.
“The bad guys were lying,” Will said. “They were just trying to scare the little boy. His mommy and daddy were safe all the time. And when he told me what happened, I arrested the bad guys and brought the little boy home.” Will leaned forward again. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The boy seemed to understand, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
Will said, “The sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner I can get you back to your family. And trust me, they want you back so badly. You are all they can think about. No matter what the bad men did to you, they just want you back so they can take care of you and make sure you’re safe.”
The boy looked down at the sheet again. Tears slid down his cheeks.
Will said, “It’s okay to talk to me, buddy. Whatever happened to you, it wasn’t your fault. You’re just a kid. And your mommy and daddy love you so much. They want you back home. That’s all they care about. No matter what the bad men did to you, they will always, always love you.”
The boy kept his head down. His mouth moved. He had to think about how to turn sounds into words again. “What about Benjamin?”
Will glanced up at Sara.
She asked, “Is that your brother?”
The boy nodded.
Will said, “I’m sure he wants you back, too. Even if you fought with him or didn’t get along, none of that matters. Benjamin wants you back home with him.”
The boy finally looked up at Will. “He’s not home,” he whispered. “He was in the basement, too.”
Sara felt her heart stop. She was too paralyzed to speak. Another boy, a brother, still out there suffering horrible cruelties. Or, worse, not still out there, but lying somewhere in a shallow grave.
Will was obviously considering the same possibilities. He visibly struggled to keep his calm. “Benjamin was in the basement with you?”
The boy nodded his head. “The bad man took him away.” Will’s cool started to slip. His voice cracked. “Can you tell me your name?”
The boy didn’t answer.
Will said, “I met a little boy last night, and he knew the name of his school. Do you know the name of yours?”
The boy still did not answer. He was getting scared again, worried that he’d said too much. He slid down the bed, pulled the sheets up over his head.
Will opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. He didn’t want to give up, but he didn’t know how to keep going, either.
Sara rested her hand on the boy’s arm. He was shaking. They could hear his cries through the bedcovers. She told him, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything else for now. You were very brave to tell Agent Trent what you did. And you’re still safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
Denise Branson cleared her throat. She was standing in the doorway.
Sara told the boy, “We’re going to leave you alone for now, but we’re all here if you need us.” Sara stood up. She motioned for Will to follow her. “I’ll be in the kitchen, okay? You don’t have to talk anymore until you’re ready.”
Sara left the room, though she felt like part of her heart stayed with the boy. His brother had been taken, too. Why hadn’t they found him at the house? Where had he been taken?
Sara told Will, “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
Will pulled out his phone. The glass was shattered, but the phone seemed to be working. Sara assumed he was calling Faith, but then he said, “This is Agent William Trent. I need a national alert issued immediately on the authority of Deputy Director Amanda Wagner. Two missing brothers, both disappeared on the same day, possibly more than a week ago. No name on the first kid, but he’s around seven years old, has dark hair and brown eyes. The second kid is called Benjamin.”
Sara told him, “Or Ben. Or Benji.”
Will’s expression showed absolute shock. He almost dropped the phone. “What did you just say?”
She knew that he wasn’t good with nicknames. “Benjamin is sometimes shortened to Ben or Benji.”
“Benji?” Will braced his hand against the wall. He seemed stunned.
She asked, “What is it?”
“Give me your keys.”