Page 39 of Her Faithful Protector

My heart races as I picture her venturing into the unknown alone. But I can’t dwell on it now—she knows what she’s doing.

Sam then asks, “How’s Townsend?”

“The house is empty,” I respond in dismay. Meanwhile, Huxley remains composed in his observations.

I ask Sam, “Can you spot the white van?”

“Negative.” Sam pauses, then adds, “Actually, I don’t see any cars here either.” He gets quiet once again. I sense that he’s on the move. Then he relays, “Two motorbikes parked at the back of the house.”

That will allow them to navigate through narrow passages inaccessible to cars.

I acknowledge him, and he instructs, “Give me an update in five.”

My eyes roam the room, searching for any remnants of baby Quinton. They scan the air as if attempting to catch a whiff of that distinct scent Huxley had detected. Yet, all that lingers is the aroma of cleaning products.

Perhaps I’ve been relying on my instincts too blindly. The urge to leave and join Sam in Clancy rises, but something keeps me anchored here. As Sam told me, those men in Clancy arrived on motorcycles, and transporting a seven-month-old baby on a motorcycle is highly unlikely.

Suddenly, Sam’s voice crackles through the radio. “Ava’s here.”

I switch to her frequency. “Ava, talk to me.”

“Jack. Have you seen Quinton?”

“Not yet. We’ve got to be patient, and you have to focus.”

I can hear her pulling a breath. “I’m ready.”

“You listen to whatever Sam says, okay? If he says get out, you get out. Not a second after.”

“Understood, Jack,” she responds, composed and direct. “I’m going in now.”

The radio falls silent, leaving us on edge. Minutes later, Sam updates us. “She’s reached the door. I’m closing in.”

Just then, Huxley and I hear an approaching car.

Clutching his binoculars tightly, he reports, “It’s a white van with a male driver.”

“What about the babysitter? And Quinton?”

“Negative. Only the driver.”

Not the answer I wanted. Huxley and I get in position, flanking the door, ready to shoot.

“Are you sure there’s only one man?” I ask Huxley.

“Positive, boss.”

While I could leave Huxley to hold the fort, considering we’re only facing one person, I decide to stick with the plan. I trust Sam to keep Ava safe and have faith in my own intuition that Quinton is still nearby.

The sound of the engine is getting closer. When I listen carefully, something remains in the distance. It’s a cry. It’s faint, but it’s unmistakably a baby’s cry.

My persistence has been rewarded. Quinton is here, and he needs me. Besides, I can’t allow that Comet boy to claim that Quinton has called him ‘Papa.’

13

AVA

Like many small towns in Montana, Clancy possesses the old-world charm that transports you back in time. But away from town, my intended destination is anything but charming. I have never encountered a more desolate place. You can scream to your heart’s content, but your cries will go unheard, save for the occasional birds soaring by. The landscape surrounding the property is devoid of any significant features except for a few scattered trees. As Sam and Jack foresaw, executing an ambush with a group of men would be a disastrous decision.

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