“What do you mean a note? Like a ransom note? Calder, what the fuck is going on?” Preacher snapped.
“I was filling in the crew about increasing security, mentioning the conversation between Memphis and his father. Knox had already been to bed for over an hour. But he must have overheard us. He left a note saying he was going home because he didn’t want Memphis to die for him. The only reason we knew he was gone is because Donatello was crying outside our bedroom door.”
“He didn’t take the dog?” Preacher asked. A boy and a four month old Pitbull puppy would be much easier to spot on the road.
“No, he left the dog. He asked in the note that we give him to Memphis. Said it would help Preacher to protect him. Fuck, man. He couldn’t have gotten far, but we can’t find him anywhere.”
“We’re on our way,” Memphis said, shoving a hoodie over his head.
“Should we call the cops?”
“No!” Memphis shouted. “No cops. I don’t trust them.” He looked at Preacher. “How fast can we be there?”
“An hour, tops.”
“If he’s going back to Nash, he’s only got so many options. Oh, God. His phone. His cell phone. You don’t think he called Nash somehow, do you? Or one of the crew to come get him? Oh, Jesus. If they’ve got him already, we’re never going to get him back.”
“Breathe, baby. That’s a good call. Can we track his cell phone? See who the last person he called was?”
“Already did it. Webster says the last call was between him and Memphis, around the time you guys were on the flight back to LA. Then the location was stable until he turned the phone off.”
“Why would he turn his phone off?”
“My guess would be so we can’t track him. He might be twelve, but he’s been grown for a long time, man. That kid has been taught from birth how to avoid and evade. Webster’s on standby. The minute he turns that phone back on, we’ll track it. In the meantime, I’ve got my guys out searching, Linc and his team are en route. Webster said he’s calling in Javier, Lawson, and two other dudes, Manson and Cabbot?”
“Yeah, they’re my guys.”
“I’ve set up base camp at our place. If the Rangers taught me nothing else, it’s how to do a grid search. We’ve got guys sweeping outward from here. If I hear anything before you get here, I’ll call you.” Preacher was about to hang up when Calder said, “Hey, I know your dogs ain’t search and rescue, but maybe bring them anyway. Can’t hurt to try.”
“We don’t go anywhere without the boys. We’re on our way.”
Preacher disconnected, glancing over at Memphis. His eyes were wild. Preacher had seen that look before on inmates, just before they lost it one last time. Preacher wrapped his arms around him. “Hey, we’ll find him. There’s no way he got to Nash if we couldn’t. Okay?”
Memphis didn’t answer, just ducked out of Preacher’s grip. “Let’s get on the road.”
Memphis was going to be sick. This was all his fault. Fuck. Why would Knox have done this? Sacrificed himself for Memphis? It made no sense. None. He slammed his fist against the dashboard of the Lincoln SUV, causing Bo and Luke to whine in the backseat.
Preacher snagged his fist and brought it to his lips. “I know you’re freaking out. I get it. I am, too. But if you set off that airbag, you’re only going to slow us down. You don’t want to do that. Right?”
“Where is he? I know he’s smart for his age, Preacher. But he’s small. Anybody could snatch him up in a second. What if he tried to hitchhike somewhere? What if some creep has him? What if Nashhashim? He’s not going to go easy on him. He’ll make him pay for disrespecting him. That’s just how it is in my family. Can’t have the crew thinking he’s gone soft.”
“You’re not thinking rationally right now. Nash hasn’t been in touch with his crew. We know this because Javier’s been sitting on the house and it’s bugged, and all they’re doing is getting high and playing video games. They’ve been on a permanent vacation since he left.”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. Nash isn’t going to go to those morons for help. He’ll go to my dad’s crew. They’re not stupid. They’re smart and evil. They have a mean streak. Believe me, I know. I’ve been on the wrong side of it. Knox is too small and too fragile to handle whatever torture they have planned for him.”
Memphis’s limbs felt stiff, his heart racing, sweat coating his skin only to rapidly dry in the air pushing through the AC vents. He chewed on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing. Preacher was racing down the highway, but nothing seemed fast enough. There was a hollow feeling in Memphis’s chest, like none of it mattered, like it was already too late. Somehow, even miles apart, he’d let his brother down.
“Baby, stop. Nash doesn’t have him. Nash has no idea where he is.”
“Then how did those guys find us? We’d changed phones. They didn’t know you or where you live, yet, somehow, they found us. Somehow, my father always wins.”
Part of him wanted to cry, but it was like his body was no longer his own. He stared straight ahead at the headlights of the oncoming cars. It was almost three in the morning and his baby brother was somewhere out in the middle of nowhere all alone. Or he wasn’t. Memphis didn’t know which was worse.
“Your father isn’t winning anything. Do you hear me? We’re almost there. Twenty minutes. Tops. Then we’ll get with Calder—”
The phone cut off anything Preacher was about to say, making Memphis jump. Preacher hit the button on the phone’s bluetooth, and Calder’s voice cut through the silence of the cabin. “We found him. He turned his phone on, but only for a minute, long enough for us to see he’s at a train station the next town over. No clue how he got that far since there’s nothing around for miles and passenger trains only run out of there twice a week. Only thing that comes through on the regular around there are freight trains.”
“What if he tries to hop on one to get back to Nash?”
