Page 8 of Give Me Peace

“You think the old lady is liable for any of this?” Loch asks, the question catching me off guard. I guess I hadn’t really thought about what part the woman might have played in Saylor’s disappearance, if any.

“Hell, if I know,” Denvers answers. “We’ve got to figure out how long she’s known her son had a girl stashed beneath their porch and why she’s only come forward now. If she had any involvement that could warrant charges, then what? The woman’s halfway to the grave as it is. I’ve got a fucking headache just thinking about it.” He groans, twisting his head from side to side to alleviate the tension his undoubtedly carrying.

I don’t envy him, that’s for sure. We got to be a part of executing the search, but it’s him that’s left with a stack of paperwork and hammering out the details at the end of the day.

“I wouldn’t trade it, though. I hope you boys know that.” He gives us both a meaningful look. If he were anyone else, I’d probably take offense to being called a boy, but I know he sees us for the men we are. Despite his best efforts to remain impassive, he’s grown attached to us over the years. “I’d write reports and take witness statements every day for the rest of my life if it meant we’d get this outcome.” Denvers swallows, averting his gaze to try and hide the emotion he’s feeling. I think we’d all do that and then some.

“I gotta run but keep me updated. I want to know her status as soon as you do.” Loch dips his chin in acknowledgment. “I’ve listed you both as her next of kin so the doctor can fill you in.”

Shit.

I didn’t even think about that. When Saylor wakes up, because she absolutely fucking will, her life is going to be in shambles. In more ways than one. Denvers heads for the door after saying a quick goodbye and Loch stands with a groan, looking dead on his feet and uncharacteristically disheveled.

“I have to get these bloody contacts out,” he gripes, squeezing his eyes shut to try and help with the irritation. The guy spent two months a year in London and somehow clung to British slang without ever picking up an accent. It’s mostly curse words, but I find it funny as shit. “I’m going to run grab a coffee. You want one?”

“Yeah. Black will do.” He nods, then disappears to the cafeteria to procure us some caffeine. I doubt either of us got much sleep before we hit the road last night. A quick glance at the clock shows it’s eight-thirty in the morning. I close my eyes and try to block out all the background noise for a few minutes.

On top of dealing with everything finding Saylor has brought up, I’m anxious as fuck for someone to let us know what the hell is going on. The audible tick of the second hand is doing nothing to calm my nerves, but before I can get comfortable enough to doze off, the door opens, and Loch saunters back in. His phone starts to ring just as he hands me a Styrofoam cup of piping hot liquid.

“Shit, it’s Krew.” Our eyes meet, both of us excited while simultaneously dreading the impending conversation. He sits across from me, placing his phone on the small table separating the two rows of chairs and puts the call on speaker.

“Krew,” Loch greets, to which the other man follows with, “Boss Man.” It’s quiet for a second, neither of them wanting to speak first. I know it bothers the twins when they’re left in the dark, but their expertise is more useful back home, with full access to the software required to get us whatever we need, whenever we need it. It’s rare for them to do any sort of groundwork. However, they’ve made it known they’d still appreciate being kept in the loop. I’m certain finding the house all but empty this morning is the exact opposite of that.

“Sorry I haven’t reached out. We had to hit the road fast and I didn’t want to wake you. Denvers called with a lead, but, honestly, I thought we’d be heading back by now because I didn’t imagine it going anywhere.” Loch runs his hands over his slacks, his palms likely slick with sweat.

“Okay,” Krew drawls. “And where might you be exactly?”

“We’re in Pike’s Bay.” Not really, but he knows Krew would recognize the meaning of that over saying Laiken County or Lyola. No one says anything, but I can hear shuffling on the other end.

“And this lead…is it for who I think?” Krew’s voice has an edge to it now, something only those close to him would pick up on, but otherwise he’s as closed off as he always is.

“Yeah,” Loch sighs. “We..” he pauses to clear his throat. “We got her.”

“What do you mean you got her?” Krew growls, showing more emotion than I’d expect. “Her remains?” I flinch, the thought making my chest ache. But it’s a valid question. The twins, especially, know how unlikely it is to recover a missing person after five years. And when that does happen, they’ve typically been gone long before that.

“No, Krew. She’s alive. In a sorry state, but she was breathing when we got her to the hospital. We’re still waiting for an update, so I don’t have a detailed list of injuries yet.” Loch smiles, his eyes looking a little glassy, but who could blame him. He carries the weight of all our burdens as if they’re his own. He has since he shot my player on a damn video game and I cussed his ass out. But Saylor is a cause we all got behind, and this is going to affect each of us on a personal level.

“Fuck.” A whoosh comes through the phone from Krew’s exhale. “I have so many questions.”

“I know you do, and I promise to answer them all. But right now, I need to focus on what’s going on here. I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but as soon as I have more info, you’ll be the first to know,” Loch promises.

“Understood,” Krew replies. “And Kade?” He asks the question I’ve been wanting to without actually saying it, addressing the big ass elephant sitting front and center.

“I haven’t told him,” Loch admits. “He’s on the other side of the country and we both know he’d drop everything to get back here, contract be damned. I think we should wait until he’s wrapped things up before sounding the alarm.” Krew grunts a noncommittal response. It’s true, but I’m not sure he agrees with Loch’s choice. For that matter, I’m not sure I do, either.

“I’ll be in touch.” Loch waits for Krew’s acknowledgement before ending the call. His shoulders are tense again, that weight pressing down once more.

“You sure about this?” I question.

“No,” he bluntly answers. “In fact, I’m sure it’s a mistake. If anyone deserves to be here right now, it’s Kade. But it’s my responsibility to ensure we follow through on our commitments. We’re still running a business, and if Kade bails in the middle of a job it’s going to tank the reputation we’ve built. I could give a fuck about that, truthfully, but then we’d be risking the ability to help other people just like Saylor.” When put like that, I can understand the dilemma he’s in, but before I can offer any input, there’s a knock on the door, bringing a halt to our conversation.

“Mr. Calloway?” The doctor we’d met in the ER peeks his head in, making sure he’s in the right place before slipping inside. Loch and I stand, both of us anxious for news. “I’m Dr. Ashburn. I apologize for how long it’s taken to get you an update, but we’re a small hospital and currently understaffed.”

“No worries. What can you tell us?” Loch cuts in, more concerned with Saylor than small talk.

“Ms. Radley is a very lucky girl.” I nearly scoff, but somehow manage to rein it in. I get what he’s trying to say, but it seems insensitive to use that word. “We just got her results back from radiology. According to the scans, she has a few bruised ribs and her left wrist has a hairline fracture. Multiple contusions were notated, as well as several lacerations, none of which required suturing. The patient is severely dehydrated and malnourished. Saline and IV antibiotics are currently being administered, as well as pain medication. Still waiting on bloodwork, but any other testing, we’ll need Ms. Radley’s consent.” The doc gives us a pointed look.

I turn away, staring at a wall of inspirational quotes that are meant to be uplifting, but right now they’re just pissing me off. If Saylor’s been violated beyond the obvious, there’s a good chance she won’t be on board with a physical examination. Who’d want strangers poking at prodding at them after enduring something like that?