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In two strides he reac
hes me and swipes the folder off the coffee table. “Which ones are they?”
I show him the papers I’ve left sticking out. “Here.”
He pulls them out, frowns at them. Passes them in hard, jerky motions, his eyes darting over them.
Then his hand clenches on a document, and it starts to shake. “Motherfuck.”
Asher is on his feet instantly. “What is it?”
Tyler jumps up, too, and stands beside Asher, shoulder-to-shoulder. “Zane?”
He’s twisting the paper in his hand, and doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are wide, his jaw clenched. “It wasn’t… Fuck, Tyrell wasn’t the guy. Tyrell was one of the kids.”
“Zane.” Asher grabs his arm and drags him down on the stout table. “Sit and breathe, okay?”
What the hell? This could change everything.
“So…” I wait, my heart racing. “Who hurt you? The kid or the guy?”
“The guy.” Zane looks like he’s about to throw up. Maybe he is. “The kid… he was gone.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but Tyler interrupts.
“What was that asshole called? Do you remember now?”
“Ken.” His hand scrunches up the paper in his fist. Asher curses and pries it from his hold. “Kenneth.”
“Kenneth Shaw,” Asher reads from the crinkled document. “You sure, Z-man? That our man?”
Our man.
“It’s not real,” Zane says, his voice wavering. “Tell me it’s not real. Ash, you said it wasn’t.”
I wince. Never saw a man who wanted so fucking bad to be wrong in my life.
Kenneth Shaw. A good, respectable name.
“Let’s call the agency,” I say. “See if they have the information about where this Kenneth lived somewhere in their system.”
“If it’s not in the file, I don’t think they have it,” Tyler mutters. “But yeah, let’s call tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll do it,” I say. “And I’m gonna pull up a few sites for finding people.”
I’m gonna do a thorough search later, when I’m home. When Zane doesn’t look like he’s about to keel over.
If you’re out there, I’m gonna find you, Mr. Kenneth Shaw.
“If Z-man’s right…” Tyler grunts. “Well, we need more info on this guy.”
“We have the dates.” Asher squints at the document. “Zane must have been, what… eight at the time.”
“Timeframe fits,” Tyler chokes out.
I’m not sure if he sounds more shocked that for the first time something seems to check out, or furious that any part of this horror might turn out to be true.
Nobody looks more shocked than Zane, though. He’s dragging in breath after ragged breath, gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping him from bolting into the night or passing out.
