I scan the area. The pen is only about thirty feet away, in plain sight. There are other families around, and a bored teenager in a Santa hat is standing by the enclosure.
“Alright,” I say, ruffling Jackson’s hair. “But stay where I can see you, got it? And don’t go anywhere else.”
“Got it!” Jackson grabs his brother’s hand, and they take off toward the pen.
I watch them go, feeling a mix of pride and anxiety as I see Tommy take his job as big brother seriously, showing Jackson how to hold his hand out flat so the deer can eat from his palm.
I turn back to the counter, stepping up as the family in front of me moves aside. “Four hot chocolates,” I tell the teenage girl behind the register.
As she’s filling the cups, I glance back toward the reindeer pen and my stomach drops.
The boys aren’t there.
I scan the area, telling myself they’re just blocked by other people, but deep down, I already know something’s wrong.
“Hey, you want whipped cream on these?” the girl asks.
“Forget it.” I toss a twenty on the counter, grab the cups, and step away from the counter, my eyes frantically searching the crowd. “Tommy! Jackson!”
My heart hammers in my chest as I push through the throng of people, moving toward the reindeer pen. The teenage boy in the Santa hat is still there, helping a little girl feed a deer.
“Hey,” I bark, grabbing his attention. “The two boys who were just here—where’d they go?”
He looks up, startled. “Uh, they left with some guy. That way.” He points toward the parking lot.
A cold dread washes over me. “What guy? What did he look like?”
The kid shrugs. “I dunno, man.”
Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
I drop the hot chocolate cups, not giving a shit as they splash across the ground. I take off running to the edge of the parking lot, scanning the rows of cars.
A black sedan speeds toward the exit, tires spitting gravel.
“HEY!” I roar, already breaking into a sprint, but the car is moving too fast.
I race after it, but it’s no use. The sedan peels out onto the main road and disappears around a bend.
“DREAD!”
I spin around to see Honey running toward me, her face pinched with worry.
“Where are the boys?” she asks, breathless.
The words stick in my throat. How the fuck do I tell her? How do I say that I lost her kids?
“Caleb.” Her eyes dart around the area. “Where are they?”
“Someone took them,” I whisper, the words feeling like broken glass in my mouth.
Her face goes slack with horror before contorting into a mask of pure anguish. She makes a sound like a wounded animal, raw and primal. It’s a sound I never want to hear again.
Her knees buckle, and I lunge forward to catch her before she hits the ground.
“No, no, no,” she sobs against my chest. “My babies. Oh God, my babies!”
I hold her tight, my mind racing. This is no random kidnapping. Not with the timing, not with her ex still in the picture.
