“Hungry?” Rowdy turns onto the deserted two-lane road, the trailer full of wood in tow.
I gaze out the window, the passing businesses a blur in the lowering light. “Not really.”
Though I’m empty, it’s not for want of food. And underneath the emotional toll of rescuing those two girls, the intense events of the day are festering. The spike of fear when Rowdy disappeared into that house. The eerie silence of the farm. Sheriff Thomas’ little quip about Molly. What the fuck does he know? Or is he so desperate to mess with me he’s making shit up?
I shouldn’t have lunged for him like that. It was stupid and impulsive and exactly the kind of move that backs up what he threw in my face—that I’m a troublemaker.
Rowdy reaches behind the seat at a stoplight and tugs out a small container from his pack, then pops the lid and removes a sandwich. It’s gone in about four bites. While he guzzles from his water bottle, I caress my rough rose and trace my dad’s favorite verse with my thumb. But his warmth feels too far to reach.“Are more kids being forced to stay there?”
Rowdy sets his water bottle aside. “It’s not so cut and dry, like with Gweneth and McKenzie, who were brought back to the cult against their will. What if a child wanted to leave, but their parents refused? In a place like that isolated farm, they’d be practically powerless. What about those who don’t realize they’re being manipulated, even harmed by what he’s doing?”
“So how do we help them?” I release a slow exhale, puffingmy cheeks. When I was reading to McKenzie, her focus would glaze over, like concentrating on a simple story was taxing. And though the staff offered them cheese sticks and goldfish crackers and juice boxes, I had to reassure her more than once that it was okay. Even though I don’t think she’s had a full belly in a long time.
“We take out the leaders for criminal activity, then make sure those left behind have the support they need.”
A low sunbeam breaks through the clouds from the west, casting a silver glow across the barren, snowy foothills. “I wish there was more we could do right now.”
“We accomplished something big today.”
He’s right. We rescued two little girls and helped answer a frantic mother’s prayers. I have every right to savor that victory.
But it doesn’t feel like enough. Not when more children could be trapped inside that compound.
“I know we have paperwork to finish,” Rowdy says, his eyes on the road ahead. “But I don’t want you doing any of it this weekend.”
My heartbeat echoes in my throat. “Why not?”
He purses his lips, or is it a grimace? “Don’t let this job become your life.”
This only adds to my sense of unease. Did I screw up so badly today that he needs space from me? Or has he read my secondhand heartache from that rescue? Even so, I’m not sure an entire weekend off is the answer. Idle hands and all that.
When we pull into HQ, it’s nearly five. Linnea’s car is still here. I only barely snuck out a quick text to her this morning thanks to the intensity of our mission and that her dad was sitting right next to me for most of it. She and I are supposed to hang out tonight, but…
I force another exhale past my tense lips. Maybe I’m just really fucking done with taking it slow. And while I understand a lot more now about why she’s being cautious, her unwillingness to put us on the map is slowly tearing me up inside.
I don’t want to have that conversation with her after a day likethis one, so maybe it’s best I cancel our plans. Go home, rest, and face it in the morning. But wouldn’t that be dishonest? Manipulating the circumstances in my favor? That’s the kind of thing her asshole ex would do, and Linnea deserves better.
By the time Rowdy and I finish unloading the wood into the small warehouse behind HQ, it’s just past six o’clock, our breaths making thick clouds in the cooling twilight.
We’re about to jump in the truck when the back door of HQ opens, and Deputy Director Shay leans out, his eyes locking with mine. “I need to see you in my office, CJ.” He uses that brisk tone that means business, like he’s in a rush and I’m the mud on his shoe.
Unease swirls in my gut. “Yes, sir.”
I glance at Rowdy, but his face is blank. “I’ll find a ride,” I tell him because the last thing I want is to hold him up. Especially after this intense day.
He frowns. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” My first thought is Linnea. If she’s still here.
Rowdy’s eyes narrow, like he’s reading my thoughts. But he wipes down his face with one hand and sighs. “All right.”
I grab my pack from the backseat of his truck, then head inside through the back door while Rowdy drives off.
Inside the building, after passing the restrooms, I pause behind the reception area. It’s vacant, but Betsy only works until early afternoon. I’m tempted to visit Linnea’s office first. Seeing her would be a ray of fucking sunshine right now, but I text her instead while dragging my feet toward Deputy Director Shay’s office.
ME:
Can I catch a ride south?