“You ready?”Weston asks as soon as I’ve opened my eyes and raised my head.
I take a deep breath.“No.But let’s go anyway.”As I’m shoving open my door, the cabin opens, and Coach Jesse Rivers steps out, his expression grim.I’d called him on my way here and let him know what was going on.
He assured me that Thomas wouldn’t be notified until I got here and, after getting Leopold’s permission, agreed to release the teen into my care.My care.He should be with his mom.It should be her picking him up from the school after an amazing week with his friends.
“Any update?”Jesse asks.
I shake my head.“We’ve got people looking into every possible lead.”
He nods.“I haven’t said anything to him, but I did have his counselor go get him when I saw your truck coming down the drive.”
“Good.”But is it?How can it be when Katelyn and Sawyer’s lives hang in the balance?
“Mr.Holt?”Thomas’ voice cracks what little restraint I’ve had over my own emotions ever since seeing those red and blue lights.
“Hey, Thomas.”
His eyes go wide and fill with tears.“Where’s my mom?”he stammers, voice cracking.“Where is she?Is she okay?”He rushes forward, and I reach up to place both hands on his trembling shoulders.
“We don’t know where she is, but we’re going to find her, okay?”
His bottom lip begins to tremble, and he throws himself into my arms.I wrap both of them around him and hold on.Lord, please let her be okay.Please bring her home to him.Please God, don’t make this boy bury his mother.
“We’re going to take you back to town, okay?”
He nods and pulls away, wiping his cheeks.“I want to help.”
“I know you do.Let’s go get your stuff.”
“Got it,” an older boy—likely the counselor who ran to get him—holds up a duffel bag.
Weston crosses over and takes it from him, then carries it back and tosses it into the truck.
“Come on, Thomas.”With an arm around his shoulders, I guide him back toward the truck.
“Let us know if we can do anything,” Jesse calls out.
“Will do, thanks.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Thomas manages.
“Anytime, kid.You’re not alone, okay?”
He nods.“I know.”But his voice is barely above a whisper.
Doeshe know that?Does he know that I’ll die before I let anything happen to him?
That I’d gladly trade my life for Katelyn’s?
“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your mom?”Leopold asks Thomas.I’m sitting next to him, across the desk from the police captain, where we’ve been for the better part of half an hour since we returned home.
He shakes his head.“My mom never hurt anybody.”
“But you moved around a lot.Any idea why?”
He closes his eyes, the questioning taking its toll on his already damaged heart.“She never said anything.But I always suspected she didn’t want someone to find us.”
“Who?”