Ready or Not (Ready #4)(73)

“How many times did you try it?”

“Twice, plus a text. He should have gotten off the bus almost half an hour ago.”

She paused for a moment before answering, “I’m leaving now. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said.

I thought she was trying to assure herself more than anything.

“Let me know when you get there.”

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later, as I was speeding down the road, I got the phone call.

“Hey, is he okay? How many weeks do you think I should ground him?” I said, a hint of nervous laughter following.

“Jackson,” she said, her voice panicked and hoarse, “he’s not here.”

~Liv~

“What do you mean, he’s not there?” Jackson’s horrified voice echoed through the phone.

“The door was unlocked, Jackson. He was here at some point. I came in and called out for him—”

“Maybe he’s upstairs,” he interjected, his voice becoming more and more panicked by the second.

“I already checked.”

“What about a note? Maybe he went for a walk?”

“There isn’t a note. Jackson, his phone is here.”

Silence.

“He left his phone?”

“Yes, and his backpack.”

“I’ll be home in a minute.”

The phone went dead, and he was gone. I looked around the empty house. My heart pulsating and my ears roaring from the rush of adrenaline and absolute terror,

What should we do first? I asked myself, trying to remain calm when it was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.

Check his phone.

I ran over to where his backpack and phone were lying on the kitchen table. It was as if he’d left in a hurry. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I tried to stay focused.

I began searching through emails, contacts, and text messages.

Nothing stuck out.

I saw random messages with friends and a bunch of emails about schoolwork, but nothing shouted, Calm down. This is where I am right now!

The door burst open, and I turned to find Jackson rushing toward me.

“I searched his phone.” My last bit of resolve began to fade as tears dribbled down my cheeks. “Where is he, Jackson? Where did he go?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Let’s go check with the neighbors,” he suggested, squeezing me tightly.

Hand in hand, we walked next door to the other side of Jackson’s house. A young family lived there, and the mother was usually home with two toddlers during the day—but not today. We saw her unpacking groceries from her car, and she waved at us.

She’d been out all day.

Most of the other neighbors worked during the day, so as far as we knew, Noah had disappeared.

There was only one thing left to do—call the police.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jackson said, holding the phone up to his ear. Shaky fingers ran through his hair as he waited for someone to pick up.

Everything moved quickly after that. Police officers were at the house within a matter of minutes. Statements were taken, and an AMBER Alert was issued.

When my phone went berserk, notifying me of the alert, I finally broke.

When I saw Noah’s physical description and last known whereabouts flashing across my screen, not knowing if he was safe or hurt, I couldn’t breathe.

The police officers kept the media at bay. After several hours, things settled, and we were told to try to get some rest.

I looked up at what was left of the man I loved, and I wondered, Who could possibly rest when his entire world is crumbling?

The house grew quiet, too quiet, once again.

I watched the sun set across the street, and I questioned where Noah could be. Was he fed? Was he cold? Oh God, had he been hurt?

Just then, Noah’s phone rang.

Both Jackson and I looked at each other.

“Do you think it’s maybe one of his friends?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m answering it.”

Jackson pressed down the call button and held the phone to his ear.

His eyes went wide in shock and horror as he whispered one word, “Natalie.”

~Jackson~

I recognized her voice in an instant, that cold, raspy resonance coiling around my eardrums like a snake. It was a sound I would never forget.

“Jackson,” she purred, “it’s been far too long.”

“Where is he?” I demanded, feeling my fists tighten.

“He’s gotten so big. My, how the years have flown by.”

“Damn it, Natalie! Where the f*ck is he?” I shouted, banging my fist down hard on the wooden table.

Liv’s loving touch wrapped around me, her fingers clutching my bicep.

“Now, let’s be civil, Jackson,” Natalie said, laughter pulsating through every frustrating word.

“Civil? You kidnapped my child!”

“Ours,” she hissed. “Or did your new girlfriend suddenly make you forget who gave birth to him?”

I turned, looking over my shoulder to find Liv. Her eyes were filled with agony. She’d heard every word. Changing it to speakerphone, I hissed, “He stopped being yours the day you walked out of our lives, remember?”