Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(87)

“No. No,” she said, shaking her head. “It was marked well long before you reached it. I remember. He would not have driven through a barricade. He lived here. He knew how dangerous it was.”

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, could feel a pain in her soul as the final sliver of hope she had for Nolan’s safety died that dawn.

He nodded. “Yeah, the Sheriff said the same. The federal investigators wanted to take a look, though.”

“No...”

Moments later Providence was walking her along the road. Dawson was a step back as if the actual river was repelling her.

“The current had to have been strong that night, the river was still swollen from the storm.” He nodded toward the bank. “I called in a favor and for the past few weeks we’ve been moving down this waterway looking with sonar so we’d know where to dive.” His jade stare met hers. “We found the truck...what’s left.”

She heard the awful sound of a winch and then as the endless minutes ticked by she watched Declan’s truck being pulled from its watery grave.

The windshield was shattered, the driver’s window was halfway down. There were deep scratches all over the side of the truck.

As it dangled in the air, upside down, the driver door flung open. When Justice saw the seat belt was fastened, when she saw boots and other clothing falling down into the water, she retched. She cried, and beat the earth with her fist. The grief was hers, yes, the anger was, yes.

But it was just as much for Declan, for his family. For the lost years of worry. For the fact that Nolan sat at the bottom of this river for months before the search ever began. She’d let Nolan down. She should have said something. They should have known to look sooner. They would have seen the path the truck went off the road—something. Closure would have been giving and then maybe now, four years later, they would be ready to move on, not still suffering from this tragic loss.

“It’s going to be okay,” Providence said to her and Dawson, who wasn’t fairing much better at the sight of Nolan’s tomb.

Justice shook her head. She knew this was going to kill him...Declan would never recover from this finality.





Twenty-Two


Chasen had arrived right as the truck was set on the tow truck. The other boys were not far behind him. The demand for answers, the fall of blame caused more than a few fights and eventually the Sheriff made them all leave.

That was hours ago, now the sun had been down for a long time, and Justice was pacing her porch as Dawson sat and stared into space, unable to deal with the pain she had shut down—cut her emotions off.

The investigators were very clear when they stated there was slim to no hope of finding any actual remains at this point. The river life and the current would have ensured what was there was gone by now.

The family was going to have to bury an empty casket.

Providence had not only come to break the news to Justice face to face that morning because he knew that she had never given up, and had felt the same way as Declan about the search—but also because he almost assumed Declan would be with Justice.

Providence knew for sure Declan was not on base, and those who saw him last said Declan told them he was heading toward what mattered.

One would think that would mean the girl and family he’d pushed away, but since he wasn’t there, Providence thought perhaps Declan had started to look for Nolan all over again.

Dawson looked up from her phone when a text came in, then shook her head, “He hadn’t really had a chance to land anywhere, he will,” she said. The pressure now was to find Declan before he heard the news from someone else.

Declan had left base just before dawn, and until he checked into a hotel somewhere, used his card anywhere, Providence wouldn’t be able to flag where he was.

“He’s going to see the news,” Justice said, clutching her first.

Every channel had picked up the story, even national news, each calling off the newly engaged search for James Nolan Rawlings.

“Good, maybe he’ll call home then,” Dawson said right as truck lights peeled into the drive.

In a beat Dawson was at her side and both of them, who almost always stayed armed, stood shoulder to shoulder.

Murdock had been calling all day, wanting to talk to Justice. More than once he had driven by but wasn’t stupid enough to turn in.

“Oh my God...it’s him,” Justice said when she was sure it was Nolan’s truck, the one Declan had driven for years.

Dawson squeezed her hand then went inside to tell Bell who had little Nolan in her arms.

On shaky legs, Justice walked down her steps.

Over the years she’d figured out the first few seconds she saw him after he had been away, there was this odd vacancy, then it was good. Then he felt like home all over again.

This time, she’d have to face the same emotion, but on the heels of their fight, a birth, and a death. She didn’t even know what to broach first. Or how she was going to find the courage to say one word.

***

Declan slammed the truck into park and then got out, the same haunted expression he’d carried since he’d heard the news across the radio two hundred miles back was in his eyes.

He was on his way home to her but needed the drive to get his head right, to work out the words he’d been thinking over for too long. Words he should have said months back but knew he couldn’t.