Page 11 of Breakaway

“We aren’t exactly working with an abundance of free space, Cortés. The shelters are full, and even if they weren’t, I’d wager the church is a hell of a lot nicer. Unless we can make contact with any next of kin, these are the living arrangements we’ve got to make do with.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated with the limited resources we have to work with on such short notice.

“What about the old high school? It has a massive gymnasium that could easily be sectioned off into separate living spaces,” I offer, knowing it’s a viable option.

“And who, specifically, would be coordinating this effort? St. Benedict’s is happy to open their doors, and it won’t cost the city a dime. We don’t have the funding to recruit the manpower needed to run something of that magnitude.”

“If I can organize it and arrange suitable accommodations, will you nix the church idea?” I propose, the last of my patience rapidly fading.

“Give it your best shot, but time is of the essence. Whatever you’re planning to do–do it quick,” he states, his voice tinged with doubt.

It’s hard not to question his thought process when the issue is so glaringly obvious. Why on earth would the victims of a religious cult want to set foot in a church so soon after their rescue? I’d be hard-pressed to trust anyone if that were me, and it’s the last place I’d feel comfortable laying my head at night. It might not be fair to lump the many with the few, but these men and women have gone through something unimaginable to most, and the least they deserve is to rediscover that path on their own time, if they plan to at all.

“Regarding Andilyn Adams, is there anything we can do to secure her police protection? She’s a key witness to this investigation, and while it’s improbable, we don’t know the reach these people have. She risked her life to save Hudson Taylor, and the knowledge she has of Veritas’ inner workings paints a target on her back,” I politely ask, despite knowing what his answer will be before he even opens his mouth.

“I wish we could, Cortés, but sadly, it’s just not feasible,” Chief replies with a sigh. “We’re holding a press conference at 4 PM. I need you there and ready to answer whatever questions we can. Understood?” Oh, I understand. O’Connor can play at being a key decision-maker, but we both know the only reason the FBI is giving him as much leeway as they are is to lighten their load so they focus on the meat of the investigation.

“Yes, sir.”

I end the call and check the time. It’s barely noon, so I’ve got a few hours to figure out my next course of action. I made promises to Andi I shouldn’t have, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to keep them. Making a quick stop by her hospital room, I let her know I need to step away for a bit, but I won’t be long. It’s impossible to miss the apprehensive look in her eyes, but the only way to prove myself is through my actions. I refuse to be another person in her life who goes back on their word and abandons her when she needs them the most. For once in her life, Andi deserves to have someone in her corner, putting her best interest ahead of their own.

I speed across town, blessedly avoiding any traffic. With no time to brainstorm a better alternative, I’ve decided to run with the first feasible option I could come up with: I’m going to give Andi my place for the time being. I’ll swing by as often as I can so it appears she has some form of security, but it won’t be easy given my heavy workload. Before any of this can happen, I need to rid the spare bedroom of my stalker-level obsessiveness.

For one, I don’t want her knowing this is my apartment. She’d likely decline my invitation to stay here, and it would only make me worry more if she were someplace the public could access. And second, the last thing Andi needs is a constant reminder of everything Veritas has done. These facts are a part of her now, and certainly don’t require reference material for her to recall them.

“Hey, man. You home?” Colsen calls out.

“Back here,” I shout in reply, hurriedly pulling my work from the walls. I’ve already been gone too long, and the itch beneath my skin is growing more persistent the longer Andi is out of my sight.

“Uh…” Col stops short, watching me race around the room like a chicken with its head cut off. “What the hell are you doing?” I’m sure this looks suspicious, me carelessly ripping away the information I’ve spent a painstaking amount of time curating, but I don’t have the time, nor the energy, it would require to explain my thought process and how I concluded that Andi should live here for the foreseeable future. “You know what? Who gives a fuck. Just tell me you guys have her.” I pause, the strain in Col’s tone causing me to glance in his direction. He clearly hasn’t slept, not that I can blame him. I smile in response, knowing that’s the best I can offer without blatantly disregarding the oath I took. His shoulders sag, relief pouring off of him so potently I can practically taste it.

“Briggs?” I question, going back to the task at hand and hoping the subject change will be enough to dissuade him from prying any further.

“Nothing.” Col sighs in dismay.

“I know you were hoping to avoid reaching out to his therapist, but maybe it’s time.” I shove a stack of papers into an empty package box I never bothered throwing out. “Maybe file a missing person’s report?” I tack on, knowing how quickly things can take a turn for the worse.

“You’re right, but this isn’t the first time Briggs has pulled some shit like this. If we jump the gun and I tattle to his shrink, only for him to show up hours later without a scratch on him, he’s going to make our lives a living hell. It’s a fine line with him—he needs us to care, but not too much. As it stands, I’m half convinced the only reason he’s still hanging around is that he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. So maybe something better came along, and this is it–no see-ya-later or goodbye hugs for us,” he chuckles halfheartedly, but we both know he’d be wrecked if there was never any closure with their friendship.

“Or…” I pause for emphasis. “He could be lying in a ditch somewhere, knocking on death’s door.”

“Shit,” Colsen swears, his brows drawing together, as if the image I’ve painted pains him to think about.

“Look,” I placate, pausing my shoddy attempt at packing to give him my full attention. “You’re likely right, and this is nothing more than a bender he’s taken too far. But on the off chance it’s not, I’d hate for you and Dayton to be eaten up with guilt because you didn’t intervene sooner. It happens all too often, especially when it’s an adult at the helm of the disappearing act. We should be allowed to fall off the face of the earth and not have a BOLO sent out, but to what extent? You know him, so trust your judgment and do whatever you think is best.”

“I’ll give it a few more days, but if we haven’t heard anything by the end of the week, I’ll make the call,” Col compromises. “Back to you…” he starts, but I quickly cut him off with a pointed look to drop it. I know he respects me too much to purposely put me in a compromising position, but I can also appreciate that his own need for answers is bearing down on him. He lifts his hands in supplication, a silent understanding passing between us that if there were something urgent he needed to be aware of before the rest of the public, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him, consequences be damned.

“There’s going to be a press conference at 4 PM. You and Dayton need to watch. I’ll address any reasonable questions the two of you have afterward.” I explain what little I can, hoping it’ll appease him for now. “Also, Andi’s going to be staying here until I can figure something else out. As far as she’ll know, this place is hers, so keep my involvement out of any conversations you might have.”

“Okay?” Col’s confusion comes as no surprise, but he presses his lips together to keep from questioning me.

After a few seconds of watching me frantically pack away any trace of Veritas, Col starts working on the opposite side of the room. Without needing any guidance, he quickly follows my lead, erasing any sign of the nightmare that’s been haunting Andi for far too long. Between the two of us, it doesn’t take long to box everything up and do a quick scan of the other rooms. I toss my clothes into an oversized trash bag, hangers and all, and rid the place of any personal touches. I want this to be a safe space for her. Somewhere she can heal, away from prying eyes and nosy reporters. They’ll be frothing at the mouth once the story breaks.

We say a quick goodbye after lugging my shit to the truck, and I use the twenty-minute drive to the precinct to make a few calls. After speaking with someone about the old high school and arranging to meet this evening, I rush to join the others. Without a second to spare, I take my place next to Chief O’Connor and eye the camera crews swarming the front steps. It’s not every day they’re asked to join us for a briefing they know so little about ahead of time. However, it’s imperative that we get ahead of this as best we can, and while there won’t be a way to stop public speculation, we can at least limit the spread of false information by dropping a few facts.

A few stations are already live, cameras rolling as they start to address their audiences tuning in at home. Above the whispers, I catch a few of them mentioning a heavy presence of police activity on the outskirts of town. It’s no surprise their scanners are dialed in to the happenings of Chaplain. With a heavy exhale, Chief squares his shoulders and steps toward the podium.

“I’m sure you’re all curious as to why I’ve asked you to be here today,” he begins, giving them a brief rundown of the events that led to us obtaining a search warrant early this morning. “While I can’t give you much more than that, rest assured, there is no active threat to public safety. We’re going to take a few questions, but please bear in mind that this is an ongoing investigation. Federal agents are already on site, and going forward, local authorities will be on standby to offer any support they might require.” Hands spring up immediately, each of them chomping at the bit to be called on.

“Is Hudson Taylor in good health?” A female reporter questions.