“Yeah?” he asked when he put it back.
“We’ll find her,” his father said quietly.
They would. They absolutely would.
They had to.
For Ethan. For Grace.
For Garrett.
They had to find her.
He couldn’t think of it another way.
He couldn’t think of her not behind the bar at J&J’s when he walked in. He couldn’t think of her not there, pretending she was annoyed her kid and him were giving her shit over pancakes. He couldn’t think of losing her brand of sweet. Never seeing it again, when she could be cute.
He couldn’t think of not waking up to her pretty every morning.
He couldn’t think of never having that look from her, that look that said she loved him.
He couldn’t think of losing what his father lost how his father lost it, in other words, in a way he’d never get it back and the child she made who he loved wouldn’t either.
He couldn’t think of that.
If he did, his head would explode.
Or his heart would stop.
And if that shit happened, he couldn’t help find her.
“Yeah, Dad. Got calls to make, shit to do. Later, yeah?”
“Later, son.”
He took his phone from his ear as Mike backed out of their spot. “Ryker’s not answering.”
“Fuck,” Garrett muttered.
“Called Tanner. Tanner’s been tryin’ him too. Incommunicado.”
Not unusual with Ryker.
Just irritating because they needed everyone they could get.
“He didn’t report back on Jones,” Garrett told Mike. “Don’t know where he found him. Don’t know where he was stayin’. Don’t know what he did to get him gone. Just know he disappeared and Cher didn’t hear shit. Until now.”
“We don’t know this is that guy, Merry,” Mike pointed out.
They didn’t.
He had not gotten sick-fuck vibes from Walter Jones. He hadn’t gotten any read on him except ex-cop.
In truth, until they pulled Bobbie’s camera feeds, they had to go forward thinking it could be anyone. It might not have anything to do with Dennis Lowe. It could be someone losing it at Christmas because they lost their job and couldn’t afford presents. Or they cheated on their wife and she threw them out and they were messed up and wanted to make some woman pay. Or they had some fucked part of their head get more fucked and they went to the parking lot of a goddamned garden shop and abducted a woman.
It could be anyone.
Anyone who had Cher.
His blood started to burn.
He lifted a hand and pressed his middle three fingers to his forehead, and he did it hard.
“She’s tough, brother,” Mike said softly.
Garrett pressed in harder.
Chatter was coming from their radio. Men and women out, reporting in. Checking parking lots. Driving down streets. Off-duty officers from Avon, Danville, Plainfield were all mucking in. Shots fired. A woman abducted. She belonged to a cop. The brotherhood was closing in.
“I love her,” Garrett told his knees, pressing harder into his forehead, holding back the rage, keeping it contained, trying not to fly apart.
“I know you do, Merry.”
“Gonna make babies with her,” he told his partner.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Give Ethan brothers and sisters.”
“Yeah, Merry.”
“Never wanted that. Not with anyone, Mike. Never wanted any of that with anyone but Cher.”
“Stick with me, brother. Yeah? Stick with me.”
Garrett pulled in breath.
He would not see a burgundy Ford Taurus with his eyes to his fucking knees.
He dropped his hand and lifted his head.
His phone sounded with a text.
He pulled it out and looked at the cracked screen.
Out looking. You got time to tell me, Vi wants to know if Ethan’s covered.
Cal.
He’s covered. Grace too. Rocky’s got them, Garrett texted back.
Someone needs to get Ryker’s head out of his ass. He’s not answering. He needs in on this hunt, Cal returned.
We’re on that, Garrett replied.
Cal sent no more.
Mike drove.
Garrett scanned the streets and listened to the reports coming in at the same time he sent a text to Ryker that Cher was missing and they needed him to report in.
After he sent it, he backed out of his texts with Ryker and went to the string under Cal’s.
He opened it.
Ethan’s safe at school. He reports we’re almost out of Pringles. You’re out, you wanna get on that?
Him to Cher.
Your wish is my command, then a half dozen x’s and o’s, another half dozen hearts of various colors, ending with a shamrock and the head of a chicken.
Cher to him.
Garrett closed his eyes tight as pain spiked through his brain.
Then he opened them and scanned the streets again.
* * * * *
Cher
“I need to go to him.”
“You fuckin’ do shit I don’t tell you to do, you’ll be lyin’ beside him.”
I stared at Ryker’s big, powerful, scary biker-dude body prone on the floor.
Wet hit my eyes.
Blood had pooled around him on the linoleum.
A lot of it.
Too much.
Too much of Ryker leaking all over my goddamned kitchen floor.
* * * * *
Garrett
He took the call from Colt.
“Got Nowakowski,” Colt stated. “Walter Jones was a profiler for the FBI. Now he’s freelance. He’s also right now pissed as shit that Nowakowski called and interrupted his vacation golf game on some course in Arizona to make him pissed as fuck by telling him some guy is impersonating him in Indiana.”