Page 69 of Reckoning

Micah stood and shook her hand. “The family back home saw the interview of you two while he was still in the hospital. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. Pleasure to meet you, as well. I won’t interrupt anymore of your visit.”

“How’s the remodel going, honey?” Lilith asked.

“The shingles were finally delivered. Roofers are on the roof, and we’re getting the new flooring put down today. Since I’m the on-site manager, I can promise someone is already yelling for me and wondering where I am.”

She gave Lilith a hug, smiled at Micah, and left as abruptly as she’d entered. By the time she was on the other side of the street, she was running.

“On-site manager? A teenager?”

“She’s been taking care of herself since second grade. Her parents are well-to-do, but her mother is an alcoholic, and her dad is always at his insurance agency downtown. They made her life hell because she and Tate became friends in first grade. Even as a child, she never once let them back her down. The mother is no longer in the picture, and Briar is in charge of the workers who are putting their house back together. It was severely damaged in the tornado. If Tate hadn’t rescued her when he did, she would have most likely perished.”

Micah shook his head. “I can’t imagine a kid running a construction job.”

Lilith nodded. “I get that, but like Tate, she had to grow up fast, and she’s a woman. We can do anything when we have to.”

Micah chuckled. “Yes, ma’am, and point taken.” He saw Abel driving up. “Oh… Abel is home.”

“Good. It’s time for me to get some supper started. You can fill Abel in on where Tate went.”

Abel was getting out of his truck when he got a text from Tate.

Dad. My apologies to Micah. I’m at the hospital with a little boy from a wreck west of town. He was kidnapped out of Shreveport. Chief Watts is notifying his parents, but I’m staying with him until they show. Pretty sure he was about to be sold down the river. The driver, who was also the kidnapper, had already told him that his name couldn’t be Trevor anymore. The kid is terrified, and I’m not leaving him alone.

Abel sighed. Tate might still be nineteen, but he was already a man with a very old soul. Abel went inside and delivered the message, and the visit ensued.

* * *

Chief Pliney Watts was up to his ears with more than he’d bargained for. As Tate predicted, the driver, a man they identified as Randy Brimm, had a rap sheet a mile long, and the FBI did have a warrant out for his arrest. An even bigger surprise was that the little boy was, indeed, Trevor Stennett, the son of a well-to-do manufacturer named Dan Stennett, out of Shreveport, and the police and the FBI all knew Trevor had gone missing. But when there was no request for ransom their fears grew. They were facing the possibility that their little boy was either dead or lost within human trafficking.

Chief Watts had notified plenty of people over the years of loved ones being deceased and family members being arrested, but giving good news to a set of frantic parents was the best feeling in the world.

Afterward, he thought about calling Tate to let him know they’d been contacted, then figured if Bandy was as good of a psychic as he claimed to be, then he already knew that.

Tate did, indeed, know the parents were already en route via a helicopter, and Brimm was in custody, waiting for the feds.

It was a good day, and now that all of the commotion had calmed down, he sent Briar a text.

The Lone Ranger rides again. The wreck west of town involved a kidnapper and his victim. It’s a long story, but I’m at the hospital waiting with a little dude named Trevor Stennett. I told him I would stay until his parents arrived. They’re on the way. Love you. I’ll call you tonight if it’s not too late.

When Briar got the text, it was all she needed to know. Tate was safe, and he’d saved another life. She could see their lives already going in two different directions, but she also knew it needed to happen. He was building a name for himself without even trying, and she couldn’t be prouder.

* * *

Trevor was sitting up in his hospital bed with a bandage over the stitches in his forehead, eating a hamburger and fries. Tate had pulled a few strings with the cooks in the hospital kitchen to get the special order, and now he was leaning against the wall watching the little guy eat.

Even though Trevor seemed at ease, he still jumped every time someone came in the door or walked past the closed door to his room.

“It’s okay,” Tate said. “Your parents are on the way. They’re flying into Star Ridge in a big red chopper.”

Trevor paused. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?” Tate asked.

“That the chopper is red,” Trevor said.

Tate shrugged. “Do you know what it means to be psychic?”