Mikey
Mikey joined Grace over at Natalie’s house after work for some homemade soup. Four bowls of hearty chicken noodle later, his stomach readied for an explosion.
He pushed his dish away from him. “I can’t eat any more.”
He glanced at the clock on the microwave above the stove. 7:30 PM. Remembering that he’d left the ringer off on his phone, he dug it out of his leather jacket slung over the back of his chair. No missed calls or messages from his son. Natalie told him the boys had made it safely up north, except that was hours ago. He called Brayden.
Five rings later, the kid still hadn’t answered. The voice mail prompt greeted him. Mikey redialed, only to get voice mail again. This time he left a message. “He’s not answering. How’s the reception up there?”
“Fine,” Natalie said. “They built a new tower in the area a few years ago. I’ll call Harry. He was supposed to call me back anyway.” Natalie tapped on her phone’s screen then put it up to her ear. Her frown deepened with each passing second. “He’s not answering either.”
“Does anyone know Cedric’s number?”
A smile perked the corner of Natalie’s mouth. “Why? Did he go with them?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said.
“I’m not sure the man even has a cell phone to tell you the truth. And if he does, I’ve never seen him use it.”
“Try calling Brayden again,” Grace said.
He followed her suggestion, willing his son to answer. Grace sat next to him wringing her hands. He reached out and she clasped his hand. Voice mail answered again. Mikey leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Tell me this is a lack-of-signal problem.”
“Harry’s not answering either.” Natalie said, concern marking her features.
“That’s not like him, especially with Natalie pregnant. He’d be on high alert if she called,” Grace interjected.
“He answered right away earlier.”
Mikey jumped when his phone went off. “Hello!” he answered without checking the caller ID. “Bray?”
“No, sorry. This is Al—Cam. Is everything all right, you sound—”
“Cam? Why the hell are you calling me right now?”
“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be involving you. I’m looking for Hunter, he’s not answering his phone.”
“Probably because he doesn’t want to talk to you, like I don’t. You quit, remember?”
“Leave of absence. It was out of my control. You gonna tell me where his is, or not?”
Grace held her hand out for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
“Uh uh. What for?” Mikey said, answering Cam.
“Mikey, this is important. I need to find him right away.”
“I don’t know where he is at the moment.” Okay, he’d lied, but for Christ’s sake he needed to keep his line free. Mikey ended the call and tried reaching Brayden again. Still no answer and the phone went straight to voice mail this time.
The doorbell rang and Mikey’s chest split. The pain piercing enough, he glanced down, half expecting to see a gaping hole. Whoever was on the other side of the front door had started banging on it. All three of them rushed to the door, Mikey beating the women there. He swung the door open. Cam stood on other side of the screen door. His hair had been cut short and his usual scruffy face was clean-shaven.
What the hell? “How did you find me?” Mikey bit out.
“Who is it?” Natalie asked from behind Mikey.
“Cam. Grace, call the poli—”
“I am the police,” Cam said. “Well, ATF. I need to find Harry. I owe him an apology and I need his help. Eric Lund is on the lam.”
“You mean your uncle?” Grace asked incredulously.
Cam shook his head. “He’s very dangerous. He was last seen at a restaurant not too far from the McGregor cabin. The Nifty Chef.”
“How do you know about my place up north?” Natalie asked.
“We know everything about you and your family, ma’am.” Cam opened his blue nylon coat, revealing a black bullet-proof vest and a blue and gold shield that read, ‘Department of Justice ATF U.S. Special Agent’. He also sported a thigh holster on his right leg.
“They’re at the cabin. My dad, Brayden, and Cedric,” Grace gushed. “Oh God, do you think your uncle knows?”
“He’s not my uncle. I’ve been undercover on and off for a few years, watching the asshole, waiting for him to fuck up.”
“What did he do?” Grace asked.
“He’s a murderer,” Mikey said.
“That and a serial arsonist. When women started getting killed in Webster, he came back on our radar. We needed to move slowly on this one. He covers his tracks well. He enjoys the thrill he gets from seeing women suffer. Likes the fear in their eyes.” He spoke directly to Mikey, “I think he was jonesing the night he ran Grace off the road. I’d been following him, that’s how I was there so quickly.” Cam made a phone call. “This is Special Agent Alex Kingswood…yes, sir, the McGregor cabin is of interest. Three civilians, two adult males, one Caucasian, one African American, one child, Caucasian…yes, sir.” He hung up. “Come on, we need to be at Webster Air/Helo in twenty.”
Mikey choked back bile.