Page 19 of Organized Chaos

Phillip’s mother grabbed Roger by the shoulder and squeezed. “Go.” She gave him a push toward Sarah. “You go with her. I’ll be right behind you.”

In case there’s trouble. Sarah understood—and approved—their caution.

She walked backward across the porch, praying she wouldn’t stumble. “Can I follow you in my truck? I promised him I’d come back.”

Roger twitched his head in what she took as a nod. “Let me grab the key.” He disappeared inside, closing the door behind him.

Sarah hopped from foot to foot and rubbed her arms. The cold air swarmed around her as her breaths clouded in front of her face. She lifted her head and stared at the stars winking overhead. “Thank you, Lord.”

She was about to hop into her truck and turn on the heater while she waited when the door opened, and Roger emerged. He held out a steaming cup. “Here. Drink this. It’ll warm you up.” He offered her a coat. “You can use this too.”

She grabbed the items and cradled them close. “Thank you.”

“Yep.” He jammed a Stetson onto his head. “Let’s go get my son.”

“Yes, sir.” Sarah hurried after him, sloshing hot coffee over her hand in her haste to climb into her truck and head out. She shoved her arms through the jacket’s sleeves. Warm notes of honey and musk wrapped around her, courtesy of the jacket’s last wearer.

Roger’s truck roared to life and the headlights flared.

Sarah scrambled to get her truck into gear and followed Roger back down the long drive. Every second that passed felt like a century. She silently reassured herself that Phillip would be fine. She’d been gone a handful of minutes. But she knew how terrible time could be and Phillip was trapped by himself. In the dark and the cold with only a small fire to keep him warm.

Her hands shook on the wheel, forcing her to tighten her grip. The outline of the house pierced the sky and blotted out the stars.

Sarah’s breath of relief left her feeling drained.

Roger wheeled his truck around the house and stopped with his headlights trained on the cellar doors.

From her truck, she got her first good look at the doors and the lock. Phillip was right. There’s no way they’d have busted out that way.

“Phillip?” Roger hopped from his truck and hurried toward the doors. He glanced left then right, and his gaze caught on Sarah when she opened her door and stepped out.

Phillip’s muffled voice drifted on the night air. He banged on the doors. “In here. Thank you, God. Sarah found you? Is she alright?”

“I’m fine, Phillip.” She rushed to the doors and dropped to her knees.

Phillip’s profile appeared between the slats. He pressed a hand to the wood and pushed.

Roger grabbed the chain and shoved a key into the rusted lock. His lips pressed into a flat line, and his breaths came out in bursts of white. He wrenched the lock side to side and jerked at the key. “Hold tight, Phillip. We’ll get you out.”

Sarah settled her knees on the ground and leaned to the side for a better view. The truck’s headlights washed out the colors and painted Roger in stark white lines that highlighted his tense expression.

“The lock’s almost frozen.” He glanced at Sarah, then down where Phillip waited on the other side of the door. “Almost got it.”

Sarah prayed that Roger would get the lock open quickly. Phillip’s ragged breaths twisted inside her. She couldn’t imagine being down there alone, not even for a half hour.

“Got it.” The lock clicked and the chains rattled. Roger tossed the lock into his pocket and began unwinding the chains from around the cellar door handles. “Step back, Son.” Roger grabbed a handle and pulled.

Sarah grabbed the other and tried to lift it. The hinges refused to budge. She used both hands and yanked.

“It’s okay, Sarah. One is enough.” Roger’s door fell open and hit the ground with a thud.

Phillip stumbled out, shielding his eyes with one hand.

Sarah took her first good look at Phillip without fear or panic coloring her vision or the darkness of the cellar obscuring him. She’d known he was tall and strong. But she’d not anticipated the square cut of his jaw or the way his nose was slightly crooked like it had been broken once and not properly set.

He had a rugged quality to him that contradicted the idea she’d created in her mind based on the clothes he wore.

Roger grabbed Phillip into a fierce embrace that held him upright.

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