Page 88 of Never Give Up

“Sometimes I hate that we’re cops. Too damn perceptive, all of us.” And he starts laughing.

“Ha. I know, man.” There’s nothing else for me to say.

We continue on our way in silence, eating up the miles between us and our destination. And I can feel that we are getting closer to bringing Maya home with every second that passes.

We have to be, because I can’t live my life without her.

Jake’s phone beeps a minute later, telling us that it’s time to take a turn.

The lights in his truck are off and we’re out of the vehicle a thousand yards from the location of Maya’s phone.

We’re not alone, either. I hear the quiet roar of another engine in the distance, and I know that we’re not the only ones who broke the law to get here.

Paul’s there a moment later, with a black bag in one hand and a gun with a flashlight attached in the other.

“Let’s go,” he orders.

We move as silently as we can in the woods surrounding a dilapidated cabin that hasdefinitelyseen better days.

“Can you see her?” I whisper to Jake who’s standing closer to the windows than I am.

“Nope. Paul?”

“He’s got something covering the windows,” Paul says quietly. “We’re going to have to breach the house. Get ready.”

“How are we making entry?” I ask, not sure of the plan.

Paul hands me a Halligan bar. “Here you go. Use this.” And then he stands back.

Apparently, we’re all giving zero fucks about protocol and I can’t even say that I care. None of it matters if I can’t get to Maya.

When Paul gives the signal, I slam it into the doorjamb and yank it to the side. The door pops open, but not quietly. “Jake, head around to the back of the house, in case he tries to get away.”

“Paul, something’s not right. It’s too quiet.” I move into the house and start to clear the rooms before moving on. The others do the same, and in a matter of seconds we have cleared the bottom floor. I look up the staircase, and my heart falls to the pit of my stomach.

But I’m not going to let the fear get me.

Instead, I take the stairs as fast and silently as I can, weapon drawn.

I swallow the bile that rises and burns, and I try to mentally prepare myself for what I will find.

We move toward it in unison, and I hope to God that we have made it in time and that Andrew hasn’t hurt her again. As we stand outside the door, I realize that outside of my two boys, I don’t care about anyone as much as the woman I hope to find on the other side of the door.

Paul reaches out and turns the knob as quietly as possible, his gun raised. The others follow suit. “Remember,” he whispers, “Maya could be in there. Think before you shoot.” And he pushes the door open.

No one is prepared for the scene on the other side.

It takes me a moment to even find Maya in the darkness.

I almost collapse when I see her.

She isn’t moving.

I don’t see Andrew anywhere. She faces the door, with her left arm splayed out. Blood drips from it onto the ground, slowly and steadily. Something was carved into her forearm, but I can’t read it through the blood.

I don’t care what it says.

My mouth is moving, but I’m not even sure there are words coming out.

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