Page 66 of Saving Noah

Chapter 17

Eighty-six hours.

“They aren’t looking for Noah any longer, are they?” he asked Connor. “They know he’s dead, so they aren’t even going to try and find his body.”

Their meeting with the FBI had been devastating—on multiple levels. Their arrival at Noah’s apartment brought a whirlwind of agents. After barreling in, they used some sort of device Zach had never seen before, to scan every surface throughout Noah’s apartment. Horror nearly consumed him, as Zach watched the team remove and disable multiple recording and video devices from every room, one after another. How could he not have known someone had been watching them this whole time?

Once they’d completed that task and the larger team had left, the agents in charge of Noah’s case had been brutally honest about their progress in the investigation and their doubts that Noah was still alive. Surprisingly enough, they’d been willing to share the majority of their information, including their own dirty laundry.

Apparently, an FBI agent had been working with someone in the Moretti family, feeding them information about Noah’s whereabouts and daily activities. This agent was Cameron’s liaison with the FBI and, ultimately, the one responsible for ensuring Noah received the medications detrimental to his mental health and had been responsible for the “fake” job Noah had worked. From what they’d said, Cameron Maverick was only guilty of being a negligent human being. He’d simply done what the FBI agent told him without ever questioning anything…or caring.

The agents admitted to them how the dirty FBI agent explained how Zach’s name was used to lure Noah out of his safe zone, threatening to kill Zach if he didn’t come to them. He claimed not to know where Noah was or how they’d planned to do away with him. Zach knew in his heart they had more information on Noah’s fate but weren’t sharing all the details. He figured they justified that by telling themselves it was for Zach’s protection to not know the gruesome facts. The scenarios he saw every damned time he closed his eyes were as horrifying and soul shattering as the truth could be.

But he’d heard them whispering with Connor before they’d left the apartment. He hadn’t been trying to listen, his heart too damaged to even put together a coherent thought or action. No, hearing them hadn’t been his intention, but the words had carried to his ears anyway.

Buried alive.

As soon as he’d heard the words, he’d dismissed himself to his bathroom and thrown up. He hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days, but hot bile spewed from his mouth. His body convulsed in pain as he imagined Noah’s terror and suffering.How long would it take? Why couldn’t they have shown some mercy and killed him swiftly? Did he think of me? Did he wonder if I loved him? Did he know how hard we looked for him? Did he cry out for me to save him?

Before leaving, the FBI had stressed they didn’t have the evidence to tie anything to Dante Moretti. The man was too smart for that. He’d used people to make things happen and then started his cleanup as soon as Noah disappeared. The vicious cleanup cycle was what caused their own agent to come to them. Apparently, he’d thought jail time would be safer than what Moretti had planned for him.

“It doesn’t matter if they’re looking for him or not, Zach. We are. I have people looking for him and Moretti.” Connor’s eyes flashed with fury. “One way or another, Dante Moretti will pay for what he’s done.”

“You heard them, Conn. You heard when they explained how slippery Moretti was when it came to making any evidence against him stick. They don’t even believe they have a chance of convicting him for a traffic ticket, much less kidnapping and murder.” He choked on the last word, still unable to accept Noah was no longer breathing the same air he was, sleeping under the same sky. Denial—his constant companion.

“And I said ‘one way or another,’ Zach. I’m not going to let Moretti get away with ripping my family apart. I’m just…not.” Connor raked his hands through his hair and then banged the back of his head against the wall behind him. “I gotta call Wayne.” His eyes jumped back up to meet Zach’s gaze. “Don’t get pissed.”

“Whatever,” Zach answered wearily. “I don’t even care anymore, Conn. Hell, I don’t care about anything.”

“Don’t say that,” Connor whispered. “Please don’t give up on me, Zach. I’m doing everything I can to make this right.”

“This isn’t your fault, Conn. It isn’t your fault, and you can’t make it right. We aren’t going to bring Noah back, and I don’t want you losing your job or going to jail for doing something stupid.” It wasn’t Connor’s place to kill Dante. That luxury belonged solely to Zach. His oath to heal and uphold ethical standards was a thing of the past. For the first time in years, he was proud to have his father’s blood flowing through his veins. It would take that particular heritage to give him the strength to find vengeance for Noah.

“Whatever.” It was Connor’s turn to murmur the noncommittal word.

“I’m going to take Denala for a walk.” Zach stood and went to get his coat. Fall had suddenly turned cold.Had Noah been cold?

“Okay, let me send Wayne a text letting him know the coast is clear, and I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t need a babysitter, Conn. If Moretti wants to come after me, let him come,” Zach said through gritted teeth as he shrugged into his coat and hooked Denala’s collar to her leash.

“I know you don’t need a babysitter,” Connor answered as he tucked his phone into his back pocket. “I want to be with my friend. Is that okay?”

With a shrug, Zach opened the door and then held it open to show Connor he wanted his company. Denala started her shit as soon as her feet hit the hallway, but since Zach was ready for it, she didn’t get far. “Heel, Denala,” he yelled angrily. He didn’t want to take his anger and frustration out on his dog,the dog Noah loved, but he was so damned tired. She whimpered and then fell in step next to him. Together the three of them stepped onto the elevator.

“She’s getting worse, isn’t she?” Connor asked quietly. “Her grief is probably causing her to misbehave. Go easy on her if you can.”

They rode the next two floors in silence before Zach said, “I heard what they said before they left, Conn. About them thinking Noah was buried alive.”

The only reaction was Connor’s jawline tightening and his eyes flashing with sympathetic anger. “Don’t think about it, okay? Don’t do that to yourself. It won’t help anything.”

“I was just thinking that if that’s what happened, he could still be alive, Conn. If they gave him a way to breathe, our bodies can go without food for weeks but we need water within three or four days. It’s only been eighty-six hours. Under the right conditions, he could still…”

“Stop, Zach,” Connor whispered.

“I can’t stop. He could still be alive.” Zach retorted, refusing to give up hope even when he knew it didn’t make sense; he knew a body could only survive four to five days without water under perfect conditions. Noah was gone,had to be gone, but his heart wouldn’t let him accept it.

“Focus on your hate, Zach. It’s the only thing that’s going to help you survive this. Focus on what we’re going to do to Dante Moretti.” Connor turned cold and determined eyes to Zach. “Think about how we will make him suffer. He will die, Zach. Slowly. Painfully. I promise you, he’ll die. Focus on that instead of…the other.”

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