Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(73)

Lawson cursed. “You’re not a damn cop.” But then he barked out an order over the radio, and I knew help was coming.

The figure in front of me whirled for a split second, and I saw the flash of metal in the moonlight. I ducked as they fired, the shot going way wide and hitting a tree a few feet away.

“Tell me that was you,” Lawson growled.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Take cover until backup gets there.”

“Can’t do that.” I raised my gun to return fire, but the figure was too smart, running in a haphazard zigzag that I couldn’t pin down.

Instead, I pushed my muscles harder, the burn turning to fire. But I pictured Wren scared and hurt. Let myself feel the terror we’d all experienced since discovering that a shooter was back.

It lit something deep inside, and I charged up the hill. The person in front of me cursed. He pointed his gun in my direction again but wasn’t even aiming as he ran. The bullet hit a tree at least ten feet from me.

I was gaining. Just a little bit more. Wren’s hazel eyes flashed in my mind—the green in them that shone like emeralds. How she looked up at me with all the love in the world, even if she wasn’t ready to say it.

I launched myself at the man, taking him to the ground in a hard tackle. He struggled beneath me, giving me an elbow to the jaw. I cursed but answered with a swift punch to the cheek, stunning him enough for me to wrestle the weapon from his hands.

Pressing my forearm against his throat, I struggled to keep him in place. “Don’t move.”

The hoodie slipped from his head, and Joe Sullivan stared up at me with fury in his eyes.





36





WREN





Holt wrapped an arm around me as I shivered. The heat from the tea seeped into my hands, but even with that and Holt’s body pressed against me, I couldn’t get warm. There was a coldness in me that no outside force could remedy.

We leaned against the back wall of the viewing room on the other side of interrogation. I couldn’t take my eyes off the person sitting at the table. The boy. Because Joe Sullivan was all of seventeen—too young to be sitting there. Too young to be wrapped up in this. Too young to have caused such suffering.

But I knew that wasn’t true. I wished it were. I wanted to believe that kids didn’t have to live with this as a reality. But they did. I wished that humans weren’t capable of the kind of cruelty necessary to take a life for no good reason—but some of us were.

“I didn’t want it to be him,” I said quietly.

Holt pulled me tighter against him. “I know, Cricket.”

I didn’t care that my shoulder and ribs throbbed; I needed the pressure to know that Holt was here. That we were okay. Those minutes in my bedroom might as well have been forever—an eternity where I’d felt what it might be like to live a life without Holt. I’d already gone ten years without him. I wasn’t going a second longer.

I turned into him, pressing my face to his chest and breathing him in. “Tell me you’re here.”

Holt’s lips ghosted over my hair. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

The door to the viewing room opened, and I forced myself to straighten. A handful of officers piled into the room. I stiffened as Amber entered the space in her street clothes. She sent a self-satisfied smirk in my direction, but it quickly slipped from her face.

I glanced up to see Holt glaring at her. Laying a hand against his stomach, I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It’s okay.”

Nash moved around Clint and Amber, not bothering to hide his annoyance at Amber. “Law’s gonna be pissed you’re here.”

Amber stiffened. “Seeing as I was the one who was right all along, I highly doubt that. I’m guessing I’ll get an apology from him after this.”

Nash scoffed. “Keep living in dreamland.” He moved into my space, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head. “You holding up okay?”

“Hanging in there.” I should’ve been feeling relief. Instead, I felt ill. Even knowing all the damage Joe had likely caused, my heart ached for him.

Nash lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Holt and me. “We found a rifle in Joe’s trunk. They have to run ballistics, but so far, it’s a match to the shooting at the Petersons’.”

My stomach cramped. This was good. It meant the survivors were safe again. Holt and I were safe.

Holt trailed a hand up and down my spine. “How long will it take to run?”

“County’s rushing it to the front of the line. We’re running the handgun to see if that matches Gretchen and Mrs. McHenry. Hopefully, we’ll get a report tomorrow,” Nash said.

“Good.” Holt’s jaw was hard as he stared at Joe. There was no sympathy in his gaze, but it didn’t look like there was relief either.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Lawson stepped inside, a man in an ill-fitting suit trailing behind him. “Joe, this is your court-appointed attorney, Mr. Cushing. Your parents agreed to let us question you—”

“Don’t answer anything unless I tell you to,” the attorney said.

Joe simply scowled at them both and crossed his arms. “You can both jump off a cliff.”

Lawson sighed as he sat. “What were you doing at Wren Williams’ cabin tonight?”