Page 6 of I Found You (Wilder #1)

I watched Luke from the corner of my eye.

As soon as he was out of sight, I grabbed his phone, which he had left on the bar top.

It tried facial recognition first, but I bypassed it for the PIN method.

It was either Juliet’s birthday or their wedding anniversary.

The fucker was sappy as hell. I tried their anniversary first. Nailed it.

Bringing up his contacts, I called my brother’s work friend Scarlett.

It was a small town, so I knew more than a few of our cops.

Some of them from my own sins, some of them just from living in town.

But Scarlett was different. She and Luke had been friends for a few years now.

She always came to any parties or cookouts at Luke’s.

I think she had a crush on him, but he’d been with Juliet longer than he’d known Scarlett.

She answered on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “Hey, Luke, what are you up to?”

“Hey, Scarlett, it’s actually Wyatt. I borrowed Luke’s phone. Is this a bad time?”

“No, I was just working out. Is everything alright?” I could hear the tension in her voice. She must be wondering why I would be calling her, thinking it was an emergency.

“Absolutely. I have a huge favor to ask you though,” I asked, my voice sultry. I had no qualms about turning on the charm.

“Oh, sure. Um, does Luke know you’re calling me? Asking for this favor .”

“He’s here with me at Harpoon’s. He just stepped away though. It’s actually work related. Do you know the name of the family that took in that little girl that I found?”

“You could have asked Luke that. Why are you calling me? He’s not blabbing, is he?” she laughed. “You can’t fool me, Wyatt Wilder. If Luke’s keeping that information from you, so am I.”

“No, Luke, ah, just can’t remember their names,” I lied.

“You are a terrible liar. That was the least convincing line I ever heard.”

“Come on, Letty,” I said, using the nickname that Luke sometimes used, specifically when he drank too much at those backyard cookouts.

“I get the confidentiality of it. I just want to make sure she’s okay.

I’m trying to be a good guy here. I feel like she’s my responsibility.

” I didn’t mean to say that last part, but it didn’t make it any less true.

That little girl was my responsibility now.

“That’s what Kara is for, Wyatt. She will be well taken care of until we find her a permanent home, ideally with her family,” Scarlett said quietly.

“Kara Dawson?” I beamed as Luke took his seat at the bar again. He heard me say her name and turned his head to me so fast I was surprised he didn’t break his neck.

“Wyatt,” Scarlett cautioned, “do not get involved. Leave this alone.”

“Letty, my girl. Next time I see you, I’m giving you my best kiss,” I told her as I grinned at my brother.

“Is that my phone? Hang up now,” Luke bellowed.

I ended the call and gave him back his phone. I had to listen to a lecture about privacy and confidentiality and some other shit, but that was fine. I could handle Luke’s rants. And now, I had a name.

* * *

I was home by nine o’clock on a Friday night, alone.

A few years ago, that would have been unheard of.

But now, I was fine with having a few drinks and some wings and heading home before the crowd started to pack the place.

I googled Kara Dawson. She was the only Kara in town that I knew of.

She was a few grades below me in high school; we didn’t really run in the same crowds, especially back then, but I knew who she was.

I messaged her through a social media app and laid it all out there.

I told her that I was the person who found the little girl and wanted to check in on her.

My expectations of a response were pretty low, but I would think of a better way to get the information in the morning if this didn’t work.

To my surprise, she messaged me back within a few minutes.

All she could tell me was that she was the social worker assigned to the case.

She refused to say anything else, and I had to give her credit.

She was very polite as she declined to answer any of my questions.

Fuck it. I was bringing in Wes.

Me: Remember when you told me you could track down where the baby ended up?

Wes: On it.

It wasn’t even 10:00 a.m. the next morning when Wes texted me back with a name and address. I didn’t know how he did it, but I didn’t care.

Maeve Graham.

I knew the name, but I couldn’t picture her.

She lived on the other side of town. It wasn’t the “wrong side of tracks,” necessarily, but that side of town was the most beat-up.

I needed to finish what I was working on at the garage, but I closed up around lunchtime so I could run home to shower and change before I went by her house.

It was hot as hell outside, sweat was pouring off me, and I didn’t want to show up smelling like oil and gasoline.

The paint was peeling on the house that I pulled up to, weeds growing up through the cracks in the concrete walkway. Someone had clearly been trying to maintain it, as the grass was mowed and flowers were planted in the front. It needed some attention, but it had a lot of potential.

I shut off my truck and rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans. As I made my way to the house, I could see where someone had started to repaint the exterior, but they weren’t doing it right and must have stopped. A baby was crying inside. I knocked on the door with my fist, my blood already boiling.

The door opened to reveal the woman from the bar.

She wasn’t much younger than me, if I had to guess.

Chocolate-brown hair pulled onto a droopy, messy knot on the top of her head, puffy circles under her eyes, and still in some sort of pajamas, she looked like she was on the brink of tears.

She was holding Baby Girl and bouncing up and down, tits bouncing right along with her, clearly not wearing any bra.

I dragged my eyes up to her face. She was saying something—what did she say?