Chapter One
It’d been two years since James McLaren took any time off from his teaching gig. As a tenured professor, he had certain benefits. But what would he take vacation days to do? There was only so much one could travel—he didn’t like getting groped by airport workers anyway.
Seriously, James had no reason to really take time off work unless he was ill. He had no husband, no children—all he had was a nice home in the upper east side of Manhattan, a thriving writing career and his teaching job. If he took time, all he would do was spend it in the house staring at his computer, fussing over the latest chapter that wasn’t cooperating.
At least if he worked, he would be around people who would inspire characters or storylines—a few wound up serial killers among his pages, but them’s the breaks.
He made a face and tilted his head to see around the people standing in front of him, in line, at Uncommon Grounds. He understood the coffee was top notch but did there really have to be a line every time he walked through the door?
Ugh, what is the hold up?
Habit of being in a rush, James figured.
For the next six days, he was going to spend it doing nothing at all. He’d just sent off his fifth book to his editor and after being forced to take some of his saved up vacation time at the university, he was hell bent on enjoying life.
Honestly! What is the hold up?
He tilted his head again to see he was three from the front and the guy standing before the cashier was looking up at the menu board. The woman eyed him with what James could only describe as simmering irritation.
James knew why.
That fool had been standing in line all that damn time and didn’t figure out what science experiment he wanted.
When in the hell did coffee get some complicated?
Breath, James. You’re on vacation.
Ohmmmmm!
Finally, at the front of the line, James cleared his throat. “Can I get a large coffee, two creams, no sugar? And do you have any of that banana bread?”
She grinned at him. “Sure do.”
“Can I have a slice? I’ve been dreaming of the thing for days.”
“It’s my mom’s recipe. I used to eat way too much of the stuff when I was a kid.” She tapped her midsection.
“It doesn’t show.” James winked.
The woman laughed at him and after James quickly paid for his order, he stepped to the side. In no time at all, his coffee was in his hand and the piece of pastry was on a plate. He glanced around for a table and found one facing the road. Quickly, he hurried over and fell into the comfortable chair.
Once he was settled, he picked up his coffee mug, wrapped his fingers around it and lifted it to his lips. Before he could enjoy the soothing taste of java, his phone rang. Out of sheer habit, he set the cup down and checked his phone. He didn’t recognize the number. “986 area code—where the hell?”
Curious, he answered. “Good morning?”
“I’m looking for James McLay-ren?”
“It’s Mac-La-Ren and you’ve found him.” James frowned. He didn’t think his last name was that complicated but people always seemed to get it wrong. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Sherriff Tony Silva out here in Boise—”
“Boise? As in, Idaho?”
What in the hell? Idaho?
I don’t know anyone in Idaho.
“Yes, sir.”
“Um—okay. What can I do for you, Sherriff?”
“Well…” The man paused. “Do you know a Felix and Marie Hudson?”
James paused. It’d been almost fifteen years since he’d heard those names. But the pain hearing them caused still stormed through him like a bullet train. “I used to. What’s this about?”
“How soon can you get on a plane?”
“On a plane? Felix and Marie left New York almost fifteen years ago—never to be seen again. They left some pretty pissed off people in their wake. So, forgive me if I’m not ready to just drop my life because someone calls about them.”
“Well, you see, sir—it’s about their son…”
The pain magnified and turned to anger. James hung his head and rubbed his suddenly tired eyes. Dealing with Felix and Marie over the past few years left him physically drained. Even after the cops told him there was nothing they could do—even after he’d called in every favour he could and the private investigators and the—
“Hello?” The sheriff said. “You still there?”
James exhaled loudly. “What about their son?”
“There’s been an accident, Mr. Mac-La-Ren. And he’s a good kid—”
“—whoa! Hold up. An accident? Where’s—”
“He’s fine. He got away with only minor injuries.”
James exhaled loudly.
“The reason I’m calling is because well, I really didn’t want to put him in the system. So far, I found a few of Felix family members willing to take him but to be honest—well—I don’t want that for this kid.”
“Can you text me you contact info?” James asked. “I’ll call you back once I get a flight.”
“Thank you.”
James hung up just as a dull throb developed behind his right eye. He hadn’t even had his first sip of coffee yet and already he wanted to commit a felony. He set to work on his phone booking a flight from LaGuardia to Boise Airport. That didn’t take him any time at all even reserving a rental car. A few minutes later a text notification popped up on his phone from the Sherriff and using the information there, James found a hotel relatively close. In New York the place would be a bed and breakfast at least but—Boise.
With everything in place, he text the Sherriff back with where he’d be staying and that he’d be in Boise first thing the next morning. His mood was forever altered—so much so that he only took two sips of the coffee and a bite of the banana bread then hurried out of Uncommon Grounds.
Behind the wheel of his Camaro, James checked traffic. Once he was in a lane, he used his hands free to call his sister. She picked up on the very first ring which shocked him. Usually she was running after his four year old niece.
“Mac?” Bethany said. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
He smiled. “I went down to grab breakfast at my favorite little coffee shop and all was right with the world—aside from the ungodly line up, of course.”
“Of course. Ellie! Don’t out your finger in there!” Bethany shouted. “And if you say that’s what he said I swear!”
James laughed despite the turmoil he was feeling. “I’m not in the mood for that kind of joke right now.”
“Not in the mood for a dirty joke? James Edmund McLaren, are you sick?”
“No. But I think the cops found Felix and Marie.”
Silence…
Yes, that was the type of reaction Felix and Marie left in their wake after fleeing New York.
For the middle of God’s fucking nowhere.
“For real?” Bethany asked. “Where?”
“Boise.”
“For fuck’s sakes!” Bethany growled. “What do they want from you? Child support?”
“I don’t know.” James checked his mirrors and blind spots before switching lanes and pulling off the freeway. “The sheriff said there was an accident. I’m flying out tomorrow morning to go see what’s going on. But I’m only telling you so you know why I miss my date with Ellie. Don’t get your hopes up and don’t freak out.”
“How can I not get my hopes up?” Bethany asked. “Do you know what this could mean?”
“Beth…”
“I’ll explain to your little princess why you’re missing chocolate chip pancakes morning.” Bethany promise. “You be safe and call the second you know something.”
“The very second.”
“Okay—I love you and don’t go empty handed. Bring the boy a gift.”
“I don’t know the first thing about what little boys like.” James said.
“Well, it couldn’t be any different than what a grown man likes,” Bethany said. “I mean, video games, things that go bang! I don’t know?”
James sighed. “I’ll talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
But after the conversation with his sister, after getting home and packing a bag, after managing to keep down a slice of toast, James was still not sure how to feel about the phone call from the Sherriff. Should he be elated? Should he be angry, worried, sick to his stomach?
When night descended over the Upper East Side, James didn’t bother going to bed. He merely carried his bag and laptop to the door, gathered his passport and plugged his phone in to charge.
He knew damn well he wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep, so why bother trying?