Page 46 of After All The Wreckage
The glass door opened, and the detective from the night before walked out. He was a large man with dark brown skin, buzzed hair, and a neck the size of a defensive linebacker. His brows were drawn together in a frown.
“I was just about to call you. How did?—”
“We have video of him being kidnapped,” I barked. “Is that fucking good enough for an AMBER Alert?”
The detective’s eyes widened. “Monte?—”
“Two guys in masks stuffed him in a goddamn trunk.” Every ounce of disgust I had for myself and for their lack of interest in my brother was twisted with the fury that raged through me.
“Mr. Palmer. Your brother is here.”
It took way too long for me to register his words. It was Rory’s surprised voice that finally clicked them into place.
“What? He’s here?”
The detective raised his brows and nodded. “Walked in about twenty minutes ago.”
Goose bumps littered my skin as a wave of shock washed over me. Every thread of tension in my being let go at the same time. My legs wobbled, and I would have hit the floor if I hadn’t grabbed the counter just as Rory slid an arm around my waist. How could someone so small have so much strength?
“Jesus…” The word slipped out. Tortured relief.
“Let’s get the two of you reunited, and then we can get everyone caught up. If you have a tape of the kidnapping, it will help considerably,” the detective said.
He held the glass door open. I stared at it for a moment, took an unstable step and then another, all the while being buoyed up by Rory.
Bradshaw led us down a bland, white hallway. He paused outside a door, looking down at Rory. “I think it’s better if it’s just Mr. Palmer at the moment.”
I felt Rory nod against me and then she stepped away, causing my unsteady legs to waver. I willed my body to behave, forcing myself through the door the detective held open.
Nothing about the room registered except my brother.
His freckled face was dirty and tear-streaked, and his hair was a wild mess of short curls sticking up in all directions. His clothes were filthy, but it was the sadness in his eyes that really held me.
We both moved at the same time until I finally had him in my arms.
I squeezed him as tears rushed down my face. He held on to me with a death grip. His face shoved into my shoulder blades,sobs racking his body. My tough brother, dissolving. But I was right there along with him.
“Thank God, Monte. Thank God!” I said into his hair. He smelled like sweat and fear as we clung to each other.
“I’m so s-s-sorry,” Monte mumbled. “I?—”
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I got you. I got you.”
We stood like that for an eternity. After seeing that video, I’d lived the worst handful of minutes of my life. Worse than realizing he was missing the first time because even then there had been hope… hope that he was doing all of this on his own and would show back up. And then the video had ripped that possibility away. On the drive to the station, I’d been tormented by images of him dead… pale… and cold. The same wax mannequin our father had appeared in his casket. I’d been plagued with thoughts of all the awful things that could be done to a human body and the even worse things that could be done to a human soul. What had they done to him in those forty hours? God… I needed to know and yet I didn’t want to. I just wanted him to be okay. To be alive and okay. To be able to recover from this.
What if he never did?
I was jumping too far ahead. Too far. All that mattered at the moment was him being here. I was holding him, and I wasn’t ever going to fucking let him go.
The detective cleared his throat. “I’ll give the two of you a moment. Then we’ll try to put together the pieces and see what we can do to find these bastards.”
He closed the door, and I squeezed Monte even tighter. He hugged me back, equally fierce. Like he had when he was little, and he’d had the first horrible vision after Dad died. He’d crawled into bed with me and held on just like this. As if his world had ended all over again.
“It’s going to be okay. You’re alive. You’re here. Everything else can be fixed.”
It was a lie. We both knew it, but he sobbed again and sagged into me.
These days the world tried to make teenagers into mini adults while at the same time holding them back from true responsibility. It was a strange dichotomy, and my brother, seeing me pick up the pieces Dad and Demi had left behind, had tried to shoulder some of those responsibilities. Tried to become a man before he should. But now, with him struggling to control his tears, it was just like holding Ivy when she’d gotten hurt or had a nightmare. He was still a kid. Still needed protection and consolation and love.
