Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(71)

“But, Sam—”

“Leave Sam to me. I’ll make myself real useful around here for the night. He won’t be alone, promise you that.” He pauses for a second. “Don’t stay around here tonight. I know you’re tempted, and I understand that. But I need you and them out of danger.”

He’s right. The motel wasn’t safe; the lodge wasn’t either. We need to get back home, where we have friends and allies who can watch our backs.

Hard as it is to go and leave Sam behind.

“Can I write a note?” I ask Mike, at the end. “Will you give it to him?”

“Voice mail’s faster,” he says, and hands me his phone. “Use the recorder. I’ll make sure he hears it. That way they can’t accuse me of trying to pass him a shiv or some bullshit like that.”

Mike’s read on this place is just as dire as mine, I realize; that’s ominous. “If you need help, call this guy,” I tell him, and send him Fairweather’s number from my phone. I feel his phone vibrate as it arrives. “He’s with the TBI. I don’t think he likes the way things smell around here either. He got reassigned yesterday. I wonder how that happened.”

“It’s a damn mystery,” Mike says, and gives me a grim smile. “Go on and whisper sweet nothings to your man. I won’t listen.”

“Liar,” I say, but I don’t mean it. He walks a couple of feet away, and I press the “Record” button. Then I’m temporarily voiceless. What can I say? What makes up for the fact that I’m about to drive away and leave him here, in Wolfhunter, when he came up here determined to watch my back?

“Sam,” I say, and my voice sounds strange and emotional, and that’s not what I want. I take a breath. “Sorry. I need to get the kids out of here, into a safer place. So I’m going to go home until tomorrow, but I’ll be back as fast as I can. I’m hoping that Javier or Kez can step in for them temporarily until we can both get the hell out of this town and decide what we do next. Mike’s here for you, meanwhile. And I’m coming back for you. I promise.” I hesitate, close my eyes, and say it. “I love you, Sam Cade. I’m sorry that . . . I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t forget.”

I end the recording and take the phone back to Mike, who gives me a long, considering look. “You going to break my friend’s heart?” he asks.

“Depends,” I say. “Is he going to break mine?”

He doesn’t answer that. “You get those kids safe. Sam’ll never forgive me if they get hurt on my watch.”

I watch him walk away, and then we go to the waiting police vehicle that gives us a ride back to the lodge where we left the SUV. I don’t like going back in for our stuff, but Lanny’s adamant that she’s not leaving her laptop. I make damn sure the clerk knows I’m armed and ready for trouble, and we gather everything in less than ten minutes. Then we’re on the road, heading home.

We’re going to sleep in our own beds, and whatever tomorrow brings, at least we’ll have that much comfort.

I’m just turning onto the main road when my cell rings. The kids grumble and fall back asleep almost instantly once I answer it. “Yes?” My tone is guarded. It’s late, I’m exhausted, and I’m in the woods on a dark, twisting road. It’s black as a hole out here, except for the wash of my headlights across the asphalt, the jump of the yellow center line, the green from the trees flashing past.

“Ms. Proctor?”

I recognize that careful Virginia voice. “Detective Fairweather. Pretty late to be calling.” It’s almost 1:00 a.m., I know because I’ve checked, and I can count the time by the ache in my bones at this point.

“It is,” he says. He sounds as tired as I feel. “I just got back from a fingertip search of a field about fifty miles from Wolfhunter. We had a tip Ellie White might be there. All I got to show for it are dirty hands and a sore back.”

“But you’re calling me . . . ?”

“Because I heard about Mr. Cade’s situation,” he says. He sounds grim. “Did you bail him out?”

“I couldn’t. No bail.”

“County lockup?”

“No,” I say. “He’s in Wolfhunter.”

“Well, hell.” It’s mildly shocking to hear even that much of a curse from him. “I can cook something up in the morning, but I’m worried he’s going to have some trouble tonight in that jail.”

“Are you telling me they’re that bad? Wolfhunter PD?”

“Accidents happen,” he says flatly. It’s not exactly agreement; most cops won’t cross that blue line, and I’m not surprised. “I might be able to work something in the morning, but—”

“But you’re worried he might, what, hang himself from a bedsheet in the middle of the night?”

“Something like that. Are the kids all right? I heard one of them was with him during the shooting.”

“Connor,” I say, and glance over at the rearview mirror. My son is leaning against the side window, fast asleep. “He’s okay. We’re heading out for the night, back to Stillhouse Lake.”

I can hear an infinity of weariness in his voice as he says, “Then I guess I’d best head back to Wolfhunter and find some excuse to visit the prisoner for a while. Let them know the TBI has an eye on this.”