Morgan hurled the pillow and blanket onto the couch, aching to go back upstairs to his wife. Since he’d gotten home, all he’d had was a brief opportunity to check that she was okay and then to mention that he’d be visiting Pittsburgh first thing in the morning.
“Is this enough?” he asked.
“More than.” Mason kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, adjusting the pillow to his liking and then lying down on it. He covered himself only halfway, pulling the blanket up to his waist. “Thanks again for this. There isn’t a great selection of hotels around here.”
“It’s quality over quantity.”
“Well, this area is lacking both. All the same, thank you.”
Morgan nodded and headed for the light switch, ready for bed. Not that he intended to sleep much—the excitement and dreaded anticipation of finding Erika clashed to create a whirlwind of anxiety inside his stomach. That was what made him stop. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“When your family were in harm’s way. How did you cope? Emotionally, I mean.”
Mason rolled his head to one side. Loose, brown hair dangled in front of one eye. “I didn’t really. Everything hit me at once, and it was all around the time that… you know, Sandra…” He sighed. “Anyway, I guess I got lucky. Met a woman—Diane, actually—and she was always kind of a support pillar. No different from you and Rachel. Hear what I’m saying?”
He did. Pillars usually worked together to support a foundation, and while Morgan had been thinking about getting through this, he knew he had to start taking care of Rachel. She’d do the same for him—no doubt about it—so why couldn’t they lean on each other?
“When do you go back to San Francisco?” he asked.
Mason picked at his nails. “When all this is over.”
“You mean when you get your car back?”
“No. I mean when we get your boy back.”
Morgan stomped forward, shouting at first but then controlling himself so as not to upset Rachel. “You’re not coming with me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because this isn’t your fight. And besides, you’re a wild card.”
“Oh, please.” Mason tutted. “I was in the business of going beyond police procedure long ago. In my experience, one man isn’t enough to get by. You’re going to need all the help you can get. And besides, I owe you.”
Morgan considered this. Would it really be the worst thing in the world to have a man like Mason at his side? His notorious bouts of violence couldn’t necessarily be relied on, but it would be good to have a second pair of hands…
“Fine. Be up at four.”
“Gotcha. And hey, get some sleep.”
With every intention of doing so, Morgan shut off the lights and went upstairs to see Rachel, who’d fallen asleep by now. At least it appeared that way. He stood in the doorway, watching her curled up in bed with the duvet rising and falling atop her breathing body. How had he let this happen? How could he comfort her and find their son at the same time? There was no way—not as far as he could see. All he could do was wing it.
A glance at the bedside clock told him it was close to midnight. A little over four hours’ sleep and he’d be in his car on the way to Pittsburgh, tracking down the sicko who’d broken into his home, assaulted his wife, and taken their child. As Mason had said, Morgan needed every bit of sleep he could get. If only he could shut off his waking nightmares so he could face his sleeping ones.
He stripped and climbed into bed, careful not to wake Rachel. Nice and gently, he rolled over and planted a soft kiss on her head, praying the delicate act of love didn’t wake her, and then he turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
They stayed that way for only a second.
“Morgan?” Rachel’s voice, broken with tears, sounded lost.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“Are you still going away tomorrow?”
Morgan rolled back over and propped his chin up on his fist, watching her even as she had her back to him. Auburn hair spilled over her bare back, covering her pale, freckled skin. He loved every inch of her. “Only if you want me to.”
“I do want you to. But I want you to promise me something.”
She rolled over then, pulling the duvet over her chest and holding a steady gaze on him. Even in the moonlit room, the seriousness of her stare told him everything he’d need to know: that he should heed every word.
“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me you’ll find her and make her pay.”
Morgan felt his mouth go dry. His limbs went numb as he held her gaze. There was no disappointing this woman, but more importantly, he knew that what she was asking was the same as how he felt deep down. Robin was his son, and if anything happened to him, he would never forgive himself. All he knew was that he would feel cold, unforgiving anger toward Erika Givens, and nothing she did would escape his wrath.
“I will,” he said, holding her in the dark. “I promise.”