And I Love You the Most (This Love Hurts 3)

“An hour in which direction?” I ask. “Which town?”

“Two towns over from her sister’s. Saint Peters.”

“Where was he seen?”

“Not him, an associate who was involved with the abductions before. He was at a liquor store when facial recognition got him. He used a pay phone around the back, and that number sent a message to an old device known to be used by Brass.”

“She’s only an hour away,” I say, breathing out deep at the realization. Even if she’s gone, she’s close. “I need to find her.”

Again the names and associations tally in my mind, I scour my thoughts and memories, but I need time and access to my information. Anxiousness scurries across my skin in a cold sweat. Time is ticking and time has never been an ally.

“When was—” I start to say, but he cuts me off before I can finish.

“Video surveillance from two hours ago.” Two hours … so much could have happened between then and now.

“So we have a name,” I say and swallow thickly, trying not to think of what he’s done to her. What they’ve done to her. If Brass has her … it’s revenge or silencing. Fuck. Fuck! Herman’s death and all that blood is on my hands. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Brass isn’t aware I’m the one who killed him all because of that note. Because I reacted without thinking. He dared to threaten her, and I simply knocked his piece over on the board. I didn’t think of the moves that would follow.

It’s my fault. A chill runs down my back, but Cody continues. His heavy gaze blinking furiously as he rubs his eyes.

“That’s all we have for now. Evan Aldaine is looking into any addresses that any associates of Brass has in a twenty mile radius of that liquor store.” Cody leans forward, engrossed in the messages and reaching into his briefcase for the laptop.

A numbness pricks at my fingertips. It’s because of me. My decision. I can barely swallow since my throat is so dry.

Another list of names comes to mind. Too many of them. The number of associates for Brass and Herman, and Talvery if he’s also involved … too many. “It will take hours.” I’m not even aware I’ve spoken out loud until Cody responds.

“It’s too long. Too many hours have passed already.”

“We’ll find them.” Cody’s confident in my moment of hopelessness and despair.

Whoever it is … I will give them anything, kill anyone. I’ll hand over myself in exchange. We just need to find her.

Delilah

I’m going to die here.

After everything that’s happened, this is how I’ll spend my last breaths. It’s hard to wrap my head around that fact, but for the last sleepless hours, it’s all I’ve done. I’ve mourned the dreams I won’t see come true. I’ve cried for my sister who’s so very alone now worried about both my mother and myself.

More than anything, I’ve pictured the two men I gave myself to last. My heart aches for what they’ll go through. I’ve seen it before, written on the faces of loved ones. It’s a pain that’s undeniable when the uncertainty vanishes and the truth that their loved ones are dead can’t be combated with hope. Especially for men like them. Heroes … or … whatever they truly are. Men of justice and power.

Even though I don’t know what they think of my relationship with the other, I hope they both know I’ve loved them in the way that I’m able. Each of them. A hot tear slips down my cheek to my lips where the salt gathers and seeps into a cut there. Saying goodbye is what hurts the most. It’s the last goodbye and I can’t even do it with a kiss. I imagine it again and again, and each time the agony cuts deeper into my soul.

Evaluating the past is easier than thinking of what’s to come. So many faces flash before my eyes. I don’t remember all of their names, but their faces have never left me. As I roll over on the cold hard ground, staring up at the bright light they turned on full blast and left on, I allow myself to think I’ve made a difference.

For grieving families and poor souls who would have fallen victim to murderers, kidnappers and rapists I helped put behind bars. I’ve certainly made a difference in a few short years, but it’s so very small compared to what I’d hoped.

One life changed is significant, I remind myself. Not a single thought, though, is enough to soothe the truth that brings me lower and lower: I’m going to die here. My hands tremble and I shove them under my legs, attempting to swallow although my throat is dry.

I don’t want to die. My chest heaves in a breath as I tumble down a dark hole of despair.