Page 5 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

All I can think about is Oliver. Is he gone? Is he lying somewhere next to his father, dying? Is Denny dying, or is this some sick fucking joke to teach me a lesson for kicking him out?

I speed through streets, desperate to stay focused on that small, vague dot on the map.

As much as I don’t want to lose his location, or risk missing another call from Denny, I dial my brother—a detective for the Chicago police department.

In a groggy voice, he answers on the third ring. “Yeah.”

“Jonah. It’s Nola.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Panic wraps itself around my chest, squeezing the breath out of me. “I called … Denny, he … it sounded like he …”

“Slow down.”

“I can’t.” The steering wheel acts as a battering target, against which I slam my hands in frustration. “I can’t! I think something happened!”

“Where’s Oliver?”

“I think he’s with Denny, unless something happened to him. Oh, God, Jonah!”

“Where are you?”

“I’m headed toward West Chicago. Damen Avenue.”

“The silos?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s an abandoned grain elevator there. Just …. Just hang tight. I’ll check it out.”

“No! No. He sounded like … he was … dying. And if Oliver is with him. I need to go.”

“Nola, you don’t know what you could be walking into. He could’ve been jumped on that side of town.”

“I don’t care! My son is with him, Jonah!”

“We’re gonna get someone out there now. I’m calling it in now. Just turn around and go back home, and I’ll—”

I hang up the phone. I love my brother, but he’s a goddamn tool if he thinks I’m going to turn around when my son could be hurt, or worse.

Fuck turning around.

I’m already on the road where the dot on the map tells me Denny’s phone is still sitting, on the outskirts of Chicago. Heading south on Damen, I hang a left onto 29th Street, where the dot sits in the center of an abandoned yard. Through the open gates, I pull up alongside Denny’s Honda, parked about a hundred yards off from a building covered in graffiti.

What the hell?

The steady drumming against my chest is my heart pounding so fast I can hardly keep up my breathing, as I take in the dark ominous surroundings. A place no mother would ever want her child to venture, for fear of the things that could be lurking within. I want to cry, but I can’t. My mind tells my heart to keep its shit together until I find Oliver.

Clambering out the vehicle, I rush toward the Honda and peer in through the windows. Oliver isn’t there. From beside the car, its glowing lights the only means of visibility in the encroaching darkness, I scan the abandoned building for an entrance.

That’s when I sense something watching me.

Hairs prickle as I turn to see the cup holder of the backseat propped forward and bright blue eyes peering up at me. I scramble toward them, throwing back the center console of the backseat, and find Oliver curled up in the trunk.

“Baby? Are you okay? Open the latch, Oli.”

Even in the dim light of the cabin, I can see him trembling, and my instincts beg me to tear away the damn fabric of the seat to get to him.