Caveman (Wild Men 1)

John grimaces. “It has blood on it.”

Holy crap. My stomach drops to my feet. “Oh no…”

“Where?” Matt grinds out, his jaw clenched so tight it’s a miracle the words come out.

“Come with me.”

The bloodied stuffed rabbit is lying on the sidewalk outside what looks like an abandoned house. The yard is overgrown with weeds. The paint is peeling off the walls.

Matt stares at the rabbit, then at the house. I can almost see the thoughts whirring inside his head.

Really? Could it be so easy?

John motions for the two cops that have materialized by his side to lead the way to the house. They have their guns drawn, pointing forward, and dear God, this is really happening.

Matt and I, we walk after them. His grip on my hand is crushing, but I don’t care. He seems to have trouble breathing again. Looks like an anxiety attack. A kid in my school had that. I want to ask him about it, if he’s seen a doctor, if he has any medicine for it.

But not now.

John motions for us to stay back, but of course we don’t, and he doesn’t try to stop us. The two cops are looking into the house through the windows, moving toward the back.

We follow, our steps crunching on leaves and weeds, John glancing back at us from time to time, frowning but not saying a thing.

The back door is open, and we go in. Matt’s hand is burning mine, sweat is slicking our palms, but we hold on to each other as we step into the dark, quiet house.

Sounds come from the dimness inside, and John is standing at an open door, talking to someone. “Are they okay?” he’s saying.

And suddenly Matt lets go of my hand, pushes John to the side and runs through that door, vanishing in the dark.

“Hey!” John goes after him, and I’m right on his heels.

A staircase leading down.

A basement.

A bare bulb sways somewhere down, barely outlining the steps. I grip the bannister tightly as I go down, hearing Matt’s voice, and then a familiar wail.

Mary.

Oh my God. They’re here.

I hurtle down the rest of the staircase, and land in the middle of the strangest scene.

Three cops in a line, and Matt on his knees, bent over.

Then I realize he’s hugging his kids in his arms, Mary’s blond curls peeking over one shoulder, Cole’s dark hair barely visible over the other.

Without another thought, I rush to them, drop to my knees and hug them, too. Oh God. The kids are okay. They weren’t harmed.

Even as I hug them, relieved beyond words to feel their small bodies in the circle of my arms, somewhere in the back of my mind, the doubt returns.

This was easy.

Too easy.

So what does it mean?

The cops search the house top to bottom looking for clues, for fingerprints, for any indication as to who the kidnapper was.