Page 58 of Rear View

Castillo straightened his scarf, then stepped up to the podium with the Edgewater City seal on the front.

Setting a folder down in front of him, he adjusted the mic.

“Good morning. I’d like to thank everyone for coming out.

I’ll be taking questions at the end, but please, bear with me while I move through this.

” He cleared his throat. “As you’re all aware by now, the decedent in the televised crash was a Mr. Charles Barlowe, a professor at our very own U of E.

As of late last evening, it was conclusively determined that Mr. Barlowe had been stalking one of his students there, a Miss Ryah Nolan.

And the EPD took on Miss Nolan’s case over two years ago. ”

Maynard drew his shoulders back, his chin lifting high.

Dick.

“Subsequent to last night’s incident, a university security guard, Stanley Winslow, was killed, while another student, Zoya Bakshi, and Miss Nolan herself, were hospitalized.”

My gut torqued, ’cause it’d been close. Entirely too goddamn close.

“As of the completion of this investigation, my attention was specifically drawn to the yaw marks.” He opened his folder and lifted a picture of a rubber trail on asphalt.

“For those unfamiliar, yaw marks are the tire tracks analyzed at an accident scene. In this case, Mr. Bosch’s yaw marks, when coupled with his skill as a rally driver, indicated his actions were, in fact, intentional. ”

My body went numb, my shoulders dropping.

Castillo’d been real clear about how things could shake out if they went sideways, but it didn’t stop the terror seizing me or the sting in my chest from that bullshit betrayal.

I didn’t regret what I’d done, would do it again for my girl— anything for her.

Still, it sure as hell didn’t look good. Bad. This was real goddamn bad.

“However,” Castillo said, “it’s important to note that, prior to Xavier’s impact, Mr. Barlowe’s vehicle left no marks whatsoever, showing he made unequivocally no effort to stop.”

A vein in Maynard’s forehead popped, his face turning a pissed-off shade of red.

“Coupled with Mr. Barlowe’s history of stalking, his threats against Miss Nolan and the evidence gathered in regard to his vehicle’s momentum and lack of braking, any reasonable person could and should conclude that he intended to kill himself and Miss Nolan last night.

And while Xavier Bosch was instructed to stop by law enforcement, I contend he had every reason not to trust that request.”

My brow dropped low, my body going still. What the hell?

Castillo fixed his coat’s lapels. “In the two years the EPD was assigned to Miss Nolan’s file, she placed no less than twenty-six calls to nine-one-one and forwarded over one hundred and thirty-two emails to them, in which she supplied evidence of threatening calls, messages, surreptitiously taken photos and voicemails.

” Pulling a device from his pocket, he brought it to the mic. “Voicemails like these:”

He clicked play.

“I warned you, Ryah Jane,” the recording of Barlowe’s digital voice said before it cycled to the next. “Fuck with me again, Ryah Jane, and next time it’ll be worse.” Then, “Did I say you could leave, Ryah Jane? DID I SAY YOU COULD FUCKING LEAVE?”

Someone in the crowd gasped, eyes everywhere going wide.

My jaw clenched and I stretched my neck, locking my fists so tight, my bones ached, wantin’ to end Barlowe all over again.

Castillo lowered the device. “Of Miss Nolan’s emails, the EPD responded to exactly none, and otherwise, made no meaningful effort to investigate her complaints.”

The glare Maynard lobbed Juan’s way was ten shades of rage.

“On March 22 of last year, Miss Nolan was brutally beaten and hospitalized by her stalker. Had the EPD contacted the businesses just one block from the assault, they would have acquired footage from a convenience store there that showed Charles Barlowe entering his plated and traceable vehicle three minutes after the attack on Miss Nolan was reported.”

I fought my mouth from peeling back to bare my teeth. One block? Maynard hadn’t even searched one goddamn block ? The prick was lucky I was chained, ’cause I’d have come for him too.

Maynard went pale and scratched the back of his neck before he turned and left, vanishing from the screen.

“Miss Nolan begged the system for help again and again,” Castillo said. “She did everything right. But that system never came.

“By now, I’m certain we’ve all seen the footage of Xavier’s father, Peter Bosch, and his accusations of being imprisoned by his son.

What he neglected to include was the overwhelming evidence found to convict him of said crimes.

And why a sixteen-year-old boy might feel compelled to go to such a length. ”

Raising the device, Juan stared into that crowd and hit play again.

“Nine-one-one, what’s the address of your emergency?”

“Can you help me?” a little voice said. My voice. Younger, somewhere around six.

“I’ll do my best,” the dispatcher said. “What’s your name?”

“Xavier Bosch.”

“And where do you live, Xavier?”

“I live at 49 Summerfield Street.”

“Good. That’s really good. Now, we need to know who to send to you, Xavier,” she said, keys clicking in the background. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“Daddy’s hurting Mommy.”

“Hurting her, how?”

“He’s hitting her.”

Ma’s scream and a crash filled the void.

“Xavier, is your mommy okay?”

Younger me sniffed, words shaking when he said, “She’s bleeding.” There was a shuffling. “Daddy, stop!”

“Is your mommy awake, Xavier?”

“I don’t know,” younger me whimpered, the words hitching as he cried.

“Who are you talking to, boy?” my father roared in the background. The heavy thump of feet pounding out carried over the line. “You little shit!”

“No, Daddy. Please!” younger me screamed, terrified and piercing. “ Daddy , no—”

The line went dead.

Silence dropped like a hammer.

Tears streamed down faces. The sound of sobs carried through the speakers.

I held my damn breath when the truth of it all hit. Castillo wasn’t just helping, he was clearing my goddamn name.

Lowering the device, Juan raised a fist to his mouth and coughed. “Last evening, I received a call from Lorelei Bosch.”

I turned to stone. He got a call from Ma ?

“During this call, she supplied me with a statement. Something I would like to read in part now.” He took a piece of paper from his folder.

“Peter told me he’d kill me if I spoke to the police, and I believed him.

After my son Fallon’s suicide, Xavier was a boy forced to become a man.

He did what I couldn’t. He found a way to get us both out.

He saved me by doing what the police refused to do: help.

” Castillo set the page down. “As there is no statute of limitations on assault, at the conclusion of this press conference, I will be issuing a warrant for Peter Bosch’s arrest, in which I intend to seek the maximum penalty for his crimes. ”

Jesus. My pulse raced, thumping through me as hope burned like a fire in my chest.

Juan scanned the faces there. “I will be requesting a formal inquiry into the Edgewater Police Department’s utter failure to adequately investigate and, subsequent to Miss Nolan’s disappearance, act.

“The Crown openly contends that the system has failed both Miss Nolan and Xavier Bosch again and again. And that, eight years ago, I was a part of that failure.” His eyes fell, turning bloodshot before he gripped the sides of the podium, swallowed hard and glanced up again.

“I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.

” He closed the folder in front of him. “Xavier has lost enough already. I will take no more. With that, the charges against him are dismissed.” A small smile tugged his mouth when he stared straight into the camera—straight at me. “Xavier Bosch is free to go.”

Free. My heart kick-started. Castillo’d done it. Made the goddamn system work. He’d gotten me out. Put himself on the line, been more like a father than my own ever had, ’cause he gave a shit…about me.

Cheers echoed through the hall.

Free to go. Holy shit! I was free to fuckin’ go!

My girl. I needed my girl. My head snapped toward the cop at the door, and I shook my wrist, cuffs clanking loud. “Get ’em off.”

He grumbled under his breath, then pulled the key from his pocket, his service boots thumping as he stalked my way.

He unlatched them and they fell to the floor.

I bolted, my legs nearly buckling when they hit the ground.

Barreling outta the room and into the hall, I bellowed, “Ryah!” My voice broke when I called again, “RYAH!”

I ran, my gaze piercing room after room, praying I’d see her goddamn face. Needin’ to. Where are you, dream girl? Where the fuck are you?

Miles burst out a door twenty feet ahead, waving me toward him. “She’s here, man. She’s here!”

My pulse ratcheted up, my lungs working for the first time since everything had gone down when I exploded past him and into the room.

Flowers filled the place. Ryah’s parents occupied the chairs across from her bed. Jumpin’ to their feet, they advanced, throwing their arms around me.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Nolan said, her words muffled against my shoulder.

Mr. Nolan gripped my upper arm and squeezed, grinning as he tipped his head behind him.

My stare shifted that way, landing on Ryah.

She lay back on her bed, hooked to IVs and some other machine that beeped a steady rhythm.

Her leg was strung up, and casted to the hip, her face bruised.

Small cuts crossed her forehead and cheeks.

A long bandage covered her forearm. My gut twisted at the sight, until those perfect copper eyes met mine.

My shoulders fell, and I goddamn settled.

Her parents stepped aside.

Heart pulsing in my chest, I tugged my lip up at the corner. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Xavier,” she breathed, her voice delicate and weak as those small, trembling hands covered her mouth. Tears leaked down her cheeks, staining her gown.

My stare held hers as, one step at a time, I closed in. When I reached her side, I angled down, then pulled her to my chest, so damn careful.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, tucking her face into the hollow of my throat when a sob broke from her lips. “I was so scared.”

My eyes stung, my sight going hazy while I stroked a long line up her back and a heavy exhale shuddered through me. “Me, too, dream girl. Me, too. But it’s over now, yeah. You’re free.”

The tension in her body released, and she plunged her fingers into my hair, twisting them around it. “I love you, Xavier.”

I could breathe. I could goddamn breathe. “Love you, too.” Always her. Only her. “So fuckin’ much.”

She pulled back, taking every inch of me in. “Are you okay?”

My chest tightened, my nod slow when my hand came up, cuppin’ her face. “If you’re good, I’m good.”

Pressing her face into my palm, she smiled. “I’m good.”

My grin pulled high as I tracked my thumb under that red-rimmed gaze, swiping a tear away. “What would you say if I told you you’re beautiful?”

That pretty blush stained her cheeks, and she laughed, soft, easy and a balm to my goddamn soul. She grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me to her. My mouth found hers, the kiss gentle. Letting her know I was there. That I wasn’t goin’ nowhere…ever.

She loosed a breathy moan and I fought the groan that tried to break loose, ’cause just like the day before, her goddamn parents were there!

Drawing back, I set my forehead to hers and trailed my knuckle along her jaw. “You’re killin’ me,” I said, my voice so low it was barely audible.

That blush deepened.

This girl. The backs of my eyes burned, and my chest inflated.

When I sat up, the rest of the Nolans made a show of looking at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but at us.

A knock sounded at the door before Dr. Vernon crossed in.

His stare met mine, and my teeth ground hard.

He flipped the page on his chart, archin’ a cocky brow.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bosch.” He clicked his pen and did a shit job of hiding his smirk.

“Miss Nolan’s been through a lot. I’m suggesting only family be permitted to visit at this time. ”

I opened my mouth to tell Dr. Dickhead to fuck all the way off but Mrs. Nolan beat me to it.

“Mind yourself, Doctor,” she said, her tone hard as she advanced, pulling his attention her way. “Xavier Bosch is family.”

Her husband’s hand landed on her shoulder, while Miles folded his arms over his chest, glaring the prick down.

I’d have been more than happy to deal with the guy myself, but the Nolans had stood for me, and my fuckin’ throat seized, my breath hitching as I swallowed hard. Ryah folded her fingers through mine, a smile taking those pretty goddamn lips when she looked at me.

Family. I was family. And I was home.