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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Hope dies a bloody death

Eden

KeirrelayswhatStevesaid as we race back to my office. I tell myself it doesn’t mean Weston isn’t okay. That’s not what it means.

My sweet little baby boy.

“Mommy, guess what?...Chicken butt.” His little giggles erupt as he spins around.

A shaky sense of disbelief floods me.

I won’t hear that voice, see that face, get that hug or little peck of a kiss anymore. No, no…that’s not what Steve said. He didn’t say that.

The closest door back into the building sticks from warping. I kick at it in frustration, tears threatening to spill as I give another hard yank. Keir quietly moves me aside, able to effortlessly pull it open. Then we’re running again, past confused patients, and we don’t slow until I’m at the closed door of my office.

If they’re inside…If the news isn’t…

“I can’t…I just, I can’t…” I gasp, bending over to catch my breath. Once I hear it, I can’t pretend everything will be okay anymore. Once I hear it, it’ll be real.

Weston will really be gone.

Keir leans back against my office door, taking my hand as I straighten back up. “I love you.” It’s a soft reminder from him, but it’s said through a voice fraught with pain.

I expect to see Steve, Matt, and Weston when I open the door to the office, but it’s empty, just as we’d left it this morning when we went to search the grounds. Keir looks back into the hallway. “We must’ve beat them here.”

Slumping into my office chair, my eyes are drawn to the children’s picture again, the vivacious nature of Wes featured perfectly. He’s leaning against Waverly, who is seated, with an arm around her shoulders, his head leaning against hers. Warner is on her lap. Taken a year ago, it was before the Abbott children came to live with us. Tucked in the corner of that picture is a candid shot of all the kids playing in our yard. I pull the pictures toward me, pressing them against my chest. I don’t bother trying to stop the squall of tears from coming.

Keir pulls his phone out, dialing Steve back.

It rings a few times before going to voicemail.

“Try Matt. He said Matt is with him.” I’m not allowing myself to think about the implications of that right now. Later…later…

But he doesn’t answer his phone either.

Even if it’s the dead of night and he’s sound asleep, his cellphone is on and charged with the ringer up. We all give him a hard time about being attached to his phone, but he’s said over and over: “I’m in charge of eighty-three people and I’m a dad. That’s just the way it is.”

“I don’t like this,” Keir says. I agree. Between what he said about Steve being uncharacteristically bothered and us not being able to reach them, I’m worried about their safety, too.

I check my phone but it is dead, so I put it on the charger. “D-do you think we should go looking for them?” It makes no sense to do that, I know, but worry is starting to gnaw at my insides.

“No.” He checks his phone again. “My work cell is in the car. It'll have Matt’s location on it. I’ll be right back. Just stay right here in case…” He nods at me. In case they arrive with their bad news before he gets back from the parking lot.

All I can do is give him a jerk of a nod. Employee parking is in the lower lot and the walk is only a few minutes, so I’m not concerned he’ll be gone long. But I won’t be able to see him from my window and he will miss Steve and Matt if they come in the front side of the building.

Not that anything matters more than getting confirmation they have Weston and he’s okay.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The word of God

Caleb

Placingacupofcoffee Kim made in front of Blaine, I sit across from him. I missed the signs. It’s been a couple years since I thought his sobriety was at risk. With Weston missing, though, I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on him.

It seems there is a pattern of me not being watchful enough…Wes was taken, Hutton took off, and now Blaine almost overdosed.