Chapter Thirty-Three

Eric

“Calee!” I scream into the phone.

In the background, I hear what sounds like glass shattering, bombs going off, and the voices of men. A cold worm of fear winds itself around my insides knowing who those voices belong to – Raymond and his Shepherds. Somehow, someway, they'd found us. They'd found her.

I jump up from behind my desk and rush to Vance's office, my heart thundering and adrenaline pouring through me.

He looks up from his charts and an expression of concern immediately creases his face. “What's wrong?”

“They found her,” I say. “I don't know how, but they found her.”

“Who? What?”

“Raymond,” I say. “The cult. They found Calee. She just called me and it sounded like she was in the middle of a warzone.”

“Go,” he says, getting to his feet. “Get home. Now. I'll call the cops.”

I nod and run out of the office as fast as I can. Bounding down the stairs to the parking garage, I nearly trip and fall several times. I force myself to slow down a bit. I'm not going to do her a damn bit of good if I break my leg trying to get to her.

Getting to my car after what seems like an eternity, I jump behind the wheel and fire it up. The tires squeal as I back out quickly and then squeal more as I stomp on the accelerator and rocket out of the garage. I hear the shriek of tires and the blaring of a horn as a car comes to a screeching halt when I pull out of the garage and into traffic without looking.

It's a twenty-minute drive from the office to home normally. But driving like a maniac, I think I can cut that time in half. I weave in and out of traffic, horns blaring and middle fingers being stuck out of windows the whole way. I don't care. I need to get home. I need to get to Calee.

Finally, I pull into my driveway and slam on the brakes. I jump out of the car and feel my heart stutter when I see that my front door has been kicked in. The shattered remains are lying in the entryway and the frame of the door hangs limply. It looks like they used a damn battering ram to get inside. But then I remember the big, brawny cowboys and figured they'd probably done it.

How in the hell had they found us?

Running inside, I see that the windows in the great room have been shattered. There's glass everywhere. Tables have been overturned, pictures knocked over – the place looks like a bomb went off inside. I look around, running from room to room, upstairs and down.

But no Calee.

I hear the cars coming to a screeching halt in my driveway followed by the sound of feet on the pavement.

“San Diego PD,” calls a voice. “We're coming in.”

“In here,” I call, my voice thick with emotion. “I'm in here.”

Four officers come storming into the house, weapons drawn. I raise my hands to avoid any potential trouble.

“I'm Dr. Eric Galloway,” I say. “I'm the owner of the house.”

“We had a call about an abduction,” says the first officer who'd spoken. “Is there anybody else here?”

I shake my head. “No, they took her.”

“Spread out and check the house,” he calls to his partners as he steps over to me.

I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of despair. I'm supposed to be protecting her. Giving her a new life. And I failed her. I fucking failed her.

“Sir,” the officer says, holstering his weapon. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

I shake my head. “I got here about two minutes before you did,” I say. “I got a call from Calee and she was screaming. I heard the windows breaking and the door being kicked in. I got in my car and got here as fast as I could. Obviously, way too late.”

“Who is Calee, sir?”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. And then I tell him everything. The whole story. I leave nothing out and when I'm done, he's nodding, but I can see something in his eyes. I don't know if it's disbelief or something else, but I can tell, just by the way he's looking at me, that he's not going to do a damn thing to help her.

“Unfortunately, because this is in another state, it's an entirely different jurisdiction,” he says. “I don't know exactly how it works, but I can pass this along to a detective. They're going to have to follow up with the Sheriff and go from there. In the meantime, we'll put out an alert for all cars to keep an eye peeled for the woman – for Calee.”

“So, that's it,” I say, my voice dark with anger. “These assholes come in here and take her, and you're going to pass the buck? You're not going to do a damn thing about it?”

“Listen, I know you're upset –”

“You have no goddamn idea,” I spit.

“If they're crossing state lines, it becomes an issue for the Feds,” he says. “Again though, I need to pass this on to a detective. I'm a patrol car cop, sir. My power is a bit limited. Frankly, in a case like this, it's useless.”

I see a woman step through the doorway. The officer nods to me and goes over to her and has a conversation with her. When they're done, the four officers all go outside while she steps over to me.

“Detective Whitson,” she says. “I'm very sorry for what's happened.”

“Yeah, he already filled me in,” I say. “You're going to pass the buck to the Feds.”

“Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter,” she says. “If these guys took your girl and are heading for Wyoming, that's crossing state lines. That's a federal issue. But, I know a couple of field agents and I'll get on the phone with them. I'll get them up to speed and they'll take the ball from there.”

I roll my eyes and step away from her, the knots in my stomach twisting painfully. I'm angry at the world right now – but I'm angrier at myself. I can't shake the feeling – the certainty, really – that I failed Calee. I let her down. And now she's going to pay the price. Now she's going to pay for my fuck up with her life.

“Dr. Galloway,” she says. “I know this is difficult. I know you're hurting and you're angry. But in a case like this, you need to be patient. You need to let this –”

“What part of they're going to kill her is in any way unclear to you, Detective?” I snap. “This isn't a kidnapping for ransom. They took her because they're going to kill her. So, don't you dare stand there and tell me to be patient or let this process play out. Calee is going to die if I let this process play out.”

“I certainly hope you're not talking about taking this into your own hands, sir,” she says. “If you commit a crime –”

I wave her off. “Yeah, I'm well aware. I'll be punished for my crime immediately,” I hiss. “In the meantime, I just need to be patient while these assholes kill the woman I love.”

The words that just fell out of my mouth leave me stunned for a moment. I'd never given voice to those words before. But as I think about it, I realize it's true. I love Calee. I love her in a way I never thought I could love a person.

But then I feel my heart sink again. It's a great realization to come to and something I think I should share with her – except for the fact that she's about to be murdered.

I hadn't realized she'd even moved, but the detective is suddenly standing next to me, her hand on my shoulder, giving me what she probably thinks is a reassuring squeeze.

“Let the FBI to their job, Dr. Galloway,” she says. “They're really good at this kind of thing and they have plenty of experience. Just trust them to handle this.”

I say nothing and just stare at the wreckage of the house around me, my mind spinning a million miles a minute. Detective Whitson steps away and starts talking on her cell phone. An idea is beginning to form in my mind as I look around at the ruins of my house. Ruins that bring back some old memories. Raise some old ghosts in my mind.

I take it as a sign when I see Calee's cell phone half-buried under a pile of debris near the sofa. Looking around to make sure I'm alone, I step over and pick it up, slipping it into my pocket. Crime scene techs come in to start dusting for prints and all of the other shit they're going to do that will be utterly useless. This is going to be over before they even get some of their test results back.

I'm going to make sure of it.