Page 35 of Tactical Revival

People begin to file out of pews, but I stay where I am, my mind going a million miles a minute. I got very little sleep last night because I’d been so focused on trying to figure out where Lanetti could have been taken.

Morah would have made contact by now. He would have left us with some puzzle that we’d have to solve in order to find her, even though his previous killings would tell us she was dead within hours of being taken.

I close my eyes, and bile rises in my gut. Please, God, don’t let her be dead.

“How are you?” Lance slides onto the pew beside me and Eliza joins him, their daughter in her arms. The little girl is only a few weeks old and already stealing the hearts of everyone who sees her.

It hurts my heart a little, to know that I will likely never have a child of my own. I’d wanted kids—so badly—but Rosalie said they weren’t in the cards for her.

Then she went and got pregnant and is having someone else’s child. Likely another reason she wants to talk to me. So she can rub it in my face and take what’s left of my dignity.

“Tired,” I admit. “I was up all night reviewing what little facts we have. Any word from Sheriff Vick on the tip line?”

“Not so far.” Lance looks nearly as exhausted as I am, though I imagine that’s because of the little one currently sleeping in her mother’s arms and not the case, though it could be both. “I spent a few hours last night and again this morning reviewing the security footage from our cameras throughout town. If we caught something by chance, I haven’t found it yet.”

“Hey, Jaxson.”

I nearly jolt to my feet at the sound of Matty. He’s dressed in slacks and a button-down blue shirt, his mother in a beautiful floral dress nearly the same shade. Her dark hair is curled loose around her face, and the sight of her steals my breath. “Hey, Matty. How’s it going?”

“Good. Mom and I are heading to the diner, and I wanted to see if you would join us. Then maybe we can play some chess after? I’d love to show you another thing or two. You can come, too, Mr. and Mrs. Knight.”

“I like to think you just got lucky,” I retort, trying to keep my tone friendly despite the storm raging within me.

He grins, and it’s such a beautifully rare thing to see him smile that I decide right here in this moment that I want to do whatever I need to do to keep this kid happy and on the straight and narrow.

“Let’s do it,” I say, then head out after him. “You two coming?” I ask Lance.

“We need to get Mable down for her nap,” he says. “But next time for sure.” He clasps Matty on the shoulder, then guides Eliza out of the church.

We’re just about to follow them out when Chad steps through the crowd and right into our paths. The pungent stench of alcohol turns my stomach and triggers an anger I thought I’d long since buried.

Bradley Payne drank like this, and he’d nearly beaten me to death when I’d questioned him.

I look at Matty. The shift in his demeanor is instant. Gone is the sweet, happy boy who’d been standing in front of me mere seconds ago, replaced by a shell of a teenager. He’s angrier than any one person—especially a kid—should be.

“Hi, son. It’s good to see you. You look good.” Chad reaches out to touch him, and Matty jerks away.

“This is not the time or place, Chad,” Margot snaps, trying to keep her tone low.

“I beg to differ. You may have gotten the town in the divorce at first, Margot, but church is a public place, and I have just as much a right as you do to be here.”

“Please go,” Margot urges. “Matty doesn’t want to see you.”

“Your mother decide that for you?” Chad asks.

I push forward, placing myself right beside Matty. “You need to move, Chad. We’re leaving, and you’re in the way. You may be allowed to be in the church, but preventing us from leaving is something else entirely.”

He glares at me, then takes a step forward, putting himself directly in my path. Given that he’s a few inches shorter than me, I have to tilt my head to look down at him.

Rage burns through my veins, but the cop in me keeps it in check.

I would love to level this guy, especially given my current stress load, but it won’t solve anything.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he growls at me. “Keep trying, and you and I are going to have a problem."

“I’m not going to fight you, Chad. But you’re making a fool of yourself right now.”

Chad doesn’t look away from me. “You’re moving in on something that isn’t yours. This is my family. My wife. My son.”

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