Page 88 of What We May Be

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sean careened into the circular driveway of Mitch’s old house—Annie’s now—and brought the borrowed police cruiser to a screeching halt behind two other cruisers. Charlie’s Mustang was parked in front of the garage, a spark of hope. Snuffed out as he looked past the car to the front patio, its screen door hanging off its hinges.

He shoved open the car door and barely missed colliding with Marsh in front of the car as they ran toward the house. “Are they here?” Sean shouted at the uniformed officer—not Wallace—who stepped outside. “Are Charlie and Annie here?” he repeated. “Where’s Officer Sylvan?”

“They’re gone,” the officer said. “We followed Charlie here earlier. She waved us off. Wally’s car was here.” She pointed toward the cruisers, then removed her cap and ran a shaking hand over her hair. “We turned around as soon as we got the call from dispatch.”

“Where’s your partner?” Marsh asked.

“Utility room.” She gestured the opposite direction, toward the backyard. “We found Rachel tied up and unconscious. She was just starting to come to when we got here.”

Sean moved toward the door, but Marsh stepped in front of him. “Careful, Hale, this is a crime scene,” he reminded before leading Sean through the patio and into the house.

Sean froze the instant Marsh stepped aside, his insides clenching at the destruction.

Cupcakes and coffee spilled on the kitchen floor. Charlie’s holstered gun teetering on the edge of the cracked kitchen counter, a baseball bat and used syringe beside it.

Sheer terror overwhelmed him. Charlie was injured. He’d just gotten her back. He couldn’t lose her, not again. He couldn’t let Trevor lose her either.

Fuck. Trevor. How was he going to react to this? Was there enough power in the universe to contain him?

“Lock it down.” Marsh’s stern order— Sean called it the army voice—cut through his panicked haze. “Lock it down and focus. What do you see?”

Taking a deep breath, he beat back the terror and forced himself to detach and examine the rest of the scene. Beyond the mess in the kitchen, at the opposite end of the galley, by the open back door, a laundry basket was tipped over, clothes scattered on the floor. To his left, the living room was in disarray. End tables toppled, two broken lamps, muddy shoe prints on the floor. There’d been a chase, an attempted escape, a struggle. Charlie had gone for her weapon, but Annie had gotten the upper hand, wielding the bat and syringe. She’d knocked Charlie out and dragged her out of the house. Had Wally helped her? Was he unconscious somewhere too?

“Where’s Abel?”

“Right here,” came the older man’s voice, followed by a “Holy fuck” in a second voice Sean hadn’t expected.

Trevor stood over the threshold, his face white as a ghost, his hazel eyes wide with fear.

Behind him, Jaylen and Diego didn’t look much better.

“Annie’s got her,” Sean said as they stared past him, gazes jumping from one horrific sight to the next.

Marsh clasped Trevor’s shoulder while Sean addressed the others. “Wally’s missing too.”

Abel shook his head, dazedly looking around the rooms. “How’d we miss this?”

“Abel,” Sean spoke sharply, mimicking Marsh from earlier. “We don’t have time for that right now. We have to get to Charlie and Annie and find Wallace.”

“Wally has them.”

The three of them spun toward the scratchy voice. Rachel stood just outside the patio door, leaning against another uniformed officer. Abel moved first, lunging for Rachel and wrapping her in his arms. “Baby, you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” She accepted his embrace, but her attention remained locked on Sean.

As did his on what she’d said. “Wally has them?”

Rachel nodded. “Wallace Sylvan is the killer, not Annie.” She sniffled and cuddled closer to Abel. “I thought it might be Annie too after the roses at the station, so I came here to talk to her, but Annie was on a walk and Wally attacked me.” Her voice cracked, tears winning out, and she turned into Abel’s embrace.

And Sean turned back to the scene, considering it anew. Considering past events in a new light too. The nosy young officer with light blue eyes, a too-thin nose, and peeling sunburnt skin at Mitch and Cal’s funeral. An officer who had been at the other crime scenes this week, including at the natatorium. The officer who had told Craig Rowan they had a suspect in custody.

“He’s municipal affairs, right?” Sean asked. “Dealing with HU and city hall?”

“That’s right,” Jaylen said, a terseness in his voice Sean had never heard there.

“Voluntarily?” Marsh asked.

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