Page 5 of Seen Knot Heard

“You sure about this, man?” I reach over and give his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe you should rest first.”

“Not until we find her.” Holden’s fingers tighten on the black laptop case in his lap, knuckles white. His brow creases with worry as he focuses on the entrance. “I have to do something.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and my chest aches in response. I want to offer some kind of comfort, but know the gesture will be rebuffed. What he needs is Chloe, safe and back with us, and I can’t give him that.

“All right,” I concede with a sigh. “Be careful, okay? Try not to get yourself in trouble.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “No promises.”

I pull him into a hug, holding him as tight as the center console will allow. “Call me if anything comes up. Otherwise, I’ll be back once I’m done visiting Sadie.”

We let the embrace linger a beat longer before Holden pulls back and opens the door. It shuts behind him with a muted thud, and he strides toward the entrance, shoulders hunched.

I should be going with him, offering a distraction, but I have my own battle to fight.

As I pull out onto the main road, heading across town to the rehab center where my sister was moved to after her overdose, I can’t shake the sinking sensation in my gut.

Chloe’s disappearance threw our pack into chaos. After security escorted us out of the hospital, we had waited in the parking lot, ready to swoop to Chloe’s rescue.

But Chloe never appeared. Her vile mother must have snuck her out through a different entrance. When we called to check on her after a few hours, we were told she had checked out.

Since then, Holden has been unraveling. It’s in the tremor of his hands, the hollowness to his eyes, the frenzy that overcomes him in the kitchen, followed by apathy. He blames himself, convinced he failed her somehow.

I pray he doesn’t shatter before we can bring her home.

The rehab center comes into view ahead, a cluster of tan stucco buildings surrounded by well-manicured lawns and Japanese cherry blossom trees. It aims for a resort vibe, but nothing can disguise the bars on the windows.

Inside, a receptionist greets me with a practiced smile.

I sign the visitor log, collect my nametag, and wait while she buzzes the secure door open.

An orderly leads me down the beige hallway, the soles of our shoes squeaking on the linoleum. We stop outside a nondescript door, and he unlocks it, gesturing for me to enter.

“You have thirty minutes,” he says in a bored tone before shutting the door behind me with a click.

Sadie paces the small room, arms wrapped around her thin frame. The sour stench of the alcohol she’s sweated out permeates the room.

She whirls to face me, stringy blond strands flying.

“Of course it’syou.” Bloodshot eyes narrow on me in accusation. “Are you the one who got me locked up in here?”

“Sadie—”

“I can’t take being here,” she cuts in, her words tumbling together in a frantic rush. “The walls are closing in on me. I can’t breathe in this place.”

She resumes her agitated pacing, fingers tugging at her hair.

“I can’t get you out of here until you’re sober.” I pull the guardianship papers from my back pocket, the ones to ensure my niece’s safety. “Sadie, I want to talk about Quinn. After this most recent incident, CPS is now involved. I think it’s best if you sign over?—”

“No!” Sadie whirls on me. “You can’t take her from me, Blake! She’s mine, not yours!”

“I’m trying to protect her, Sadie. And you. This is for your own good?—”

“My own good?” A harsh laugh rips from her throat. “I don’t need this place. Their rules and therapy are bullshit! I’mfine, Blake. Every parent takes a break sometimes from all the pressure. It’snormal.”

“You could have set the apartment on fire.” I shake my head, heart heavy. “The police were called.”

“If that little brat had stayed in her room?—”

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