Page 35 of Straight to You

LOGAN

M y heart nearly stops.

“What?” I croak.

Mom puts her phone on speaker. “I checked everywhere. There’s no sign of him,” Dad sighs. “His phone is here, his keys are on the counter, and the door was unlocked when I got here.”

My chest tightens, and my pulse is erratic in my ears.

“He wouldn’t have just left,” I murmur. “You know that. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling me, without his fucking phone?—”

“I know, which makes this next part harder to say, son.”

I brace myself, unsure what he’s about to say, but knowing it’s going to be bad.

“It looks like there was some struggle. A few things are out of place and knocked over.”

My breath picks up, and the air in this room feels like it’s suffocating me. My chest moves erratically, and I can’t calm down.

“Logan,” Mom’s voice cuts through, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. “Logan, honey, you’ve got to calm down.”

I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything except spiral.

My chest stammers, rising and falling in short, uneven bursts.

I can’t slow it down. My hands tremble as my vision narrows, and everything around me feels louder and farther away all at once.

I can’t catch a single thought. Just flashes of Ryder, Kyle, the cameras, his phone. Him gone.

Gone.

The thoughts won’t stop. The what-ifs. The fucking certainty that Ryder is gone and that Kyle took him. That he’s alone and scared and I?—

I wasn't there. I let this happen.

Fuck my job. It’s never been worth more than Ryder, and yet I made him feel like it was—especially during the most stressful, terrifying time of our lives.

A gasping sob tears out of me. Fuck. What do I do? My lungs refuse to expand, my chest caves in, my head is too fucking light and?—

“Logan.”

I barely register Mom grabbing my face, forcing me to look at her. Her hands are warm, steady, but it’s not helping. “Breathe, honey,” she urges, her voice shaking. “Slow down. Breathe.”

But I can’t. Doesn’t she get that? I can’t calm down. I can’t. The panic has its claws too deep in me now, its grip tightening with every second that ticks by.

The heart monitor beside me starts to beep faster, and a nurse bursts through the door a moment later, already moving toward the bed.

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, glancing between Mom and the screen. She adjusts the oxygen tubing near my face and raises the bed slightly. “Logan, I need you to slow your breathing, okay? You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

But I’m not okay. Ryder is missing.

Kyle has Ryder, I know it with every fiber of my being. I don’t even realize I’m saying his name over and over until Mom grabs me and pulls me into a hug.

“You have to calm down,” she pleads. “We will find him, Logan. I promise you, we will, but you need to breathe. You can’t help him like this.”

The nurse is still beside me, monitoring the screen, her hand firm but gentle on my shoulder. “That’s it,” she says softly. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re doing good. There you go.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to force air in, then out, even though my lungs feel like they’re made of cement.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I can’t continue to fall apart. Not when Ryder needs me. Not when he could be out there fighting for his life.

My breath finally starts to even out and the monitor slows with me. I sit up straighter, grounding myself, and find my voice again.

“I need to go,” I say, already throwing the blanket off me. Pain shoots through my side once again, but I don’t care. I shove myself up, my vision tilting, black spots dancing at the edges. Mom is by my side in an instant, her hands pressing down on my shoulders.

“Logan, stop,” my mom demands. “You are not leaving this hospital. ”

“I have to!” I snap at her, feeling horrible. I take a breath and continue. “Mom, if Kyle has him, then every second we waste is another second he’s in danger?—”

“I understand,” she says, her voice breaking. “I know, Logan, I do. But you’re still in pain and they haven’t discharged you yet, honey. You can’t help him like this.”

“You want to help him?” The nurse cuts in, clearly taking my mom’s side. “Then stay here long enough to gain your strength back. You can’t walk out of here right now and help anyone. You just had surgery.”

Fuck, she’s right. I hate that she’s right because what if I collapse somewhere? What if I find them and end up putting Ryder in more danger because I can’t fight back? I know I’m being reckless, but the only thing I want is to get Ryder back.

Finally, I remember Santos and Donnelly are still here. I turn to Santos, who’s still standing nearby, watching everything unfold with a tight expression.

“Send a team to Kyle’s house,” I demand. “Right now.”

There’s a beat of silence as Santos exhales through his nose and glances at Donnelly. “Pearson...he’s one of ours,” he says finally. “Well, sort of.”

My stomach twists. “And that’s supposed to mean what?”

He lifts a hand, like he’s trying to tread carefully. “It means this isn’t going to be as simple as just knocking on his door and dragging him in. He’s connected; his uncle is the Chief. If we’re wrong…”

“I’m not,” I snap. “I know it’s him. He stabbed me, and he took Ryder. I don’t give a shit what kind of access badge he has, he’s dangerous and he’s got Ryder. And if you wait too long, it’s going to be too late.”

Santos hesitates for a moment longer, then nods slowly. “ Alright. If you’re sure—and it sounds like you are—we’ll do everything we can.”

“I am, please, just get Ryder back,” I grit out.

Santos nods again. “Okay. We’ll do everything we can.”

I hate feeling so completely useless. The waiting and not knowing is killing me. It hasn’t even been that long, but it feels like every second without news is an eternity. Finally, about twenty minutes later, my phone rings and I answer before the first ring even finishes.

“Please tell me you found him,” I beg without any preamble.

There’s a pause, and somehow, my gut sinks even more.

“No one’s here. We searched the whole place,” Santos confirms. “There’s no sign of Ryder at all.”

Goddamn it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to think, but Kyle is always calculated and careful. He never mentioned a location in any of his emails or anything that could give him away.

But that’s what makes it click.

“There’s got to be somewhere else,” I mutter. “He’s too careful. He wouldn’t bring Ryder to his own house. He knew we were on to him, and I don’t know if he thinks I’m dead or not, but if I woke up, he’d know I’d be able to ID him.”

Think. Think. Think.

Would he go to Ryder’s place? No. Too obvious. And he wouldn’t risk somewhere public, like a seedy motel, because he wouldn’t risk the chance of being identified or heard.

“Does he have access to any discrete locations from being a consultant on the force? Anything remote, but within driving distance?” I ask, desperation creeping back into my voice. “We need to exhaust every possible option.”

“We’re looking into that now,” Santos confirms. “We’re also sending officers to your place to talk to neighbors.”

“Please look into every possible location he could have gone. Please.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

My mind keeps reeling. Nurses come in and out to check on me, saying I can likely be discharged in a day or two, depending on how I’m doing, but it still feels too long. Time stands still in this bed, and it feels like this waiting will be my downfall.

Until my phone rings again.

I snatch it up and hit the green button almost as fast as last time.

“Yes? Did you get something?” I ask.

Santos’s deep voice fills the line. “A neighbor heard noises around one yesterday afternoon. Said it sounded like an altercation, but they didn’t check.”

I sit up so fast that the pain slices through my side again. “They didn’t fucking do anything?” I hiss.

“No,” he says, “which, unfortunately, is very common. A lot of people hear a commotion but don’t want to get involved, or they second-guess themselves.

Sometimes it feels safer to do nothing, which is a sad reality.

” He sighs. “They said they were scared of calling the cops over nothing or starting an issue with their neighbor.”

Someone heard him. Someone was right there, feet away while Kyle was dragging Ryder out of our fucking apartment and they didn’t do a goddamn thing. They just sat there, afraid to call the cops over nothing .

Nothing.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a deep breath, but that only makes it worse. My brain’s already filling in the gaps—picturing Ryder fighting, yelling, maybe even begging for his life—while some fucking neighbor sat on their couch, debating whether it’s worth dialing three fucking numbers.

And they didn’t.

And now Ryder’s gone.

Rationally, I know I shouldn’t be upset with them. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing in their position. I’ll never know, but right now, being rational isn’t on my list of concerns.

“Did anyone else see anything? Outside, even?”

“No. We’re sorry, Logan. It was the middle of the day—seems most of your neighbors weren’t home.”

This doesn’t give us anything, but I know Kyle was the reason for the altercation, and I know he took Ryder.

“I know he took him. Even without any eyewitnesses, I know. So, how are you going to find him?”

“Well,” Santos says slowly, “here’s the other thing. There’s been pushback from a higher-up.”

My stomach twists. “What? From who?”

He hesitates. “The guy who brought Kyle in as a consultant. He’s—well, he’s not happy about this.”

“You’re telling me some asshole who hired Kyle is more worried about his reputation or his relationship with a stalker and kidnapper, oh and not to mention the person who fucking stabbed me than finding Ryder? The innocent person they’re supposed to serve and protect?”

“He’s vouching for Kyle,” Santos admits. “Calling him a ‘professional’ and claiming you’re making baseless accusations. Just between us, he knows Kyle personally—and he wants us to stop looking.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell out in rage.

“If you’re positive Kyle’s the one who stabbed you, we’ll keep searching. We’re on your side, Logan,” Santos says, voice firm. “But they’re trying to slow this down. They don’t like this at all, but we do want to help you.”

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Well, tell him to go fuck himself.”

“Logan,” Mom warns gently from the chair in the room.

I ignore her, my patience snapping clean in half.

“No, I’m serious,” I bite out. “Tell him to go fuck himself, because Ryder is gone, and I know exactly who took him. So either he gets his head out of his ass, or he can watch while we take legal action against your entire department for letting a goddamn stalker have free reign. Oh! And let’s not forget attempted murder so he could kidnap my fucking boyfriend. ”

“Look, we’re on it, okay? We’re on your side, Logan,” Santos huffs. “I just wanted to update you. I’ll call you again as soon as we have more.”

This time, he hangs up, and my head is clouded with frustration. I need to get the fuck out of here.

And if Kyle so much as lays a finger on him?—

I’m going to kill him. And it won’t be an attempt.