She finally laughed. “Well, that’s a really shitty way to say it.”
“I love you.”
Her response came as naturally as taking a breath before jumping into the deep end of the water. “I love you, too.”
He leaned in but didn’t kiss her. Despite his forceful words, he waited for permission. Sara touched her lips to his as softly as she could. The kiss was chaste, but it was enough.
He said, “We’re okay.”
She nodded. “We’re okay.”
He held her hand in both of his. He kissed her fingers. Then he turned her wrist and looked at her watch. “We need to go.”
“Where?”
He stood abruptly. “I’ll tell you about it on the way. Lena found something.”
Sara guessed, “A winning lottery ticket?”
“No.” He helped her up from the bed. “She found a little boy.”
Sara pulled her BMW into an open garage bay. There were two other cars inside the metal structure, which was several yards from a sprawling, single-story house. They were on a horse farm. She could see a few mares and a colt out by a red barn. The sun was just cracking the horizon. The horses silently chewed some grass as they watched the garage door close.
Sara recognized the black Suburban parked beside them as a G-ride, or a government-issued SUV. She assumed either Faith or Amanda was here. The sheriff’s cruiser in the far bay probably belonged to the owner of the farm. Keeping horses was as costly as it was risky. Normally, amateur farmers had to seek out more steady employment. Sara had been thrown from a horse twice in her life. She imagined owning a horse farm was only marginally less dangerous than being a sheriff’s deputy.
Will got out of the car. He opened the back door and retrieved her medical bag from the back seat. He didn’t hand Sara the bag. He carried it for her.
“This way,” Will said, heading toward a side door.
Sara followed him as he picked his way past various small machinery taking up the last bay in the four-bay garage. She took Will’s hand to steady herself as she stepped over a tractor attachment that looked like a gigantic yard rake. He held on longer than necessary. She stroked his fingers with her thumb, wishing she could erase the past twenty-four hours and start all over again. Or maybe not. In so many strange ways, she felt closer to Will than ever before.
Faith opened the door before Will could. She avoided looking at Sara. “Find it okay?”
Sara said, “The GPS led us straight here.”
“Good.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of Jolly Ranchers candy. “The boy’s still asleep. We didn’t want to wake him until we had to. Denise and her girlfriend are in the house with one of the paramedics. The doctor read the message board, so he knows not to come.”
“Sounds good.” Will took the candy and shoved it into his pocket. “I’ve got around two hours before I’m due at the hospital.
What’s the plan?”
Sara felt her stomach lurch at the thought of him going back undercover, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Faith said, “The other paramedic is on her way with the bus. I was about to head over to dispatch. I want to be sitting on the supervisor so no one panics when they go off-radio. We don’t know how far this thing reaches. I’ll stay there until I get the word that the boy’s in Atlanta.”
Will asked, “Who’s going to follow the ambulance? Sara’s not going without backup.”
“Denise will be behind them the whole way. She’ll have her piece and her shotgun. Amanda thinks a larger escort team would alert Big Whitey.”
Will held out his phone to Sara. “Use this to check in with Faith every half hour.”
Sara tried not to bristle at being ordered around. “I’ve got my hospital BlackBerry.”
“The 689 number?” She nodded, and he pocketed his phone. “I’m serious. These people don’t mind collateral damage. You need to call Faith every half hour until you’re safe at the hospital.”
Sara wasn’t sure this was necessary, but Will didn’t give her a chance to disagree. He headed toward the house. She saw him take one of the candies out of his pocket. Instead of peeling away the wrapper, he bit it off with his teeth.
Again, Sara followed Will. He was back in top form—back in charge. Even in that awful maintenance uniform, he seemed like his old self. She watched him walk, the easy, athletic gait, the muscular line of his broad shoulders. Her big, tough cop. If Sara was trim, at least she was the kind of trim who didn’t settle.
Faith walked beside Sara. She was silent as they trudged across the yard. The tension crackled between them like static electricity.
Sara said, “You are a fantastic liar.”
Faith grinned. “I really am.”
Sara couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.
Faith asked, “Did Will fill you in?”
“He told me everything.”
Faith raised an eyebrow.
“Everything that’s happened in Macon,” Sara amended. Will had started talking the minute they’d left the hotel room. She’d never heard him speak for such an extended period of time. He’d told her about Lena’s emailed tip, the rednecks, the boy found in the basement and Denise Branson’s part in protecting him. The only detail Sara could’ve done without was the fact that Will had been riding a motorcycle, but even her shocked gasp did not stop him from talking. She’d actually slowed the car at one point, relishing his sudden candor, wishing he would extend it to the rest of his life. His childhood. His family. His bad marriage.
There weren’t enough miles in the road.
Faith said, “Remember when you told me a while ago that you had to be on Will’s side?”
Sara remembered the conversation well. Faith had asked her for details about Will’s background. Sara hadn’t felt right about sharing what little she knew. “I get it. You need to be on his side, too.”
Faith smiled, obviously relieved.
Sara asked, “Did the doctor give you any treatment information?”
“The first few days, he gave the boy fluids, a round of antibiotics, but that was it. He’s mostly been dropping by to give him a sense of routine and make sure nothing new pops up.”
“That probably helped more than anything else. Kids always need structure.”
“He’s still in survival mode. Denise thinks his food might’ve been drugged while they held him. He won’t drink Coke, but he’ll drink bottled water. He tears everything apart like he’s looking for a pill. He’ll eat a bite, then wait to see if it makes him sick or sleepy, then he’ll eat another bite. They’ve tried feeding him stuff that isn’t easily tampered with, like fruit roll-ups and deli meats. He still breaks it apart before he eats it.”
Sara nodded because there was nothing to say. She felt overwhelmed by the knowledge of the terrible things that happened to children. Faith must’ve been feeling the same. She was quiet until they reached the house.
The door opened and a petite African American woman came out. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but she had a gun on her hip and looked capable of using it. Her toned arms indicated she was no stranger to farm work. She spoke in a surprisingly soft voice. “Are you the doctor?”