Page 37 of Twisted Trust

“False words from the man who wanted me and my babydead,” I snarl fiercely, increasing my struggles against Levi who oddly looks rather alarmed.

That look is fleeting and it fades as heavy footsteps signal Chip’s return.

“Anything?” Levi asks over his shoulder as Chip walks back into the room with a grim expression.

“Nothing. No one heard or saw anything.”

“CCTV?”

“Wiped.”

“No!” My anger fizzles out, drowned under the tidal wave of grief that consumes me and before I know it, I’ve stopped fighting Levi and I’m sinking into his strong arms that wrap around me with aching familiarity. “I don’t understand,” I sob, twisting Levi’s sleeve between my desperate fingers. “I don’t understand!”

“I know.” Levi’s voice is like a dream.

Gone is the bitter coldness that’s driven him ever since we met in the hospital. His voice is warm now, almost pained, and he holds me tightly and follows me to the floor when my legs give out.

“Cameron,” I gasp through the tears, gripping Levi’s arm so tightly that my fingertips ache and throb. “He’s a good man. He’s kind. He’s sweet with Scott. He makes me pasta and they play catch together. We do movie nights at the end of each month and he’s helped me pay my rent.” The words pour out of me likea fountain matching my flooding tears. “He’s just a guy. Just a decent guy. If he’s gotten hurt because of me then I?—”

“Don’t think about that,” Levi scolds gently, and one of his arms curls around my head, creating a cradle of muscle for me to rest my chin on as I sob wretchedly in his arms. “Don’t think about that. What I need for you to think about is whether he had any enemies. Any arguments that stuck out, anyone he mentioned that caused him trouble?”

“Maybe a crazy ex?” Chip pipes up from somewhere nearby.

I shake my head over and over until I feel like my entire body is about to shake apart. “His b–biggest argument is with the cable company over a lack of channels.”

Levi holds me until the tears stop and my agonizing panic is replaced by numbness that settles deep into my bones.

He’s on his phone non-stop with calls and texts while asking me multiple questions to the point that it feels like I’m just repeating myself.

Maybe that’s part of his plan.

I tell them everything I know about Cameron, from his job at the local convenience store and the pet shelter he volunteers at to his dietary issues with certain vegetables and how he’s driven the same car since he was a teenager.

It’s a beat-up old thing but for some reason, the strange splutter in the exhaust always soothed Scott to sleep when we would go for a drive so I always preferred his car over mine.

The sun sets and the warm Las Vegas evening turns into a smothering darkness that amps up my panic for the whereabouts of my son until finally, I get a call.

A sharp-toned detective barks in my ear and gives me the news I’ve been praying to hear for the four hours I’ve been left hanging on Levi’s every word.

“What is it?” Levi advances with his brow knit in concern.

“It’s the police,” I choke out. “They have Scott!”

The drive to the Las Vegas Police Department is the most terrifying of my life.

I chew my nails down to the skin and can’t stop bouncing my knee even when Levi tries to soothe me with a hand on my shoulder.

All I have to go on is a very brief phone call telling me that someone found Scott wandering the Strip and thankfully handed him in.

No details were given about his condition, but Levi tells me over and over that he must be fine or we’d be meeting at the hospital.

I have my doubts.

Those doubts come to fruition when I rush into the police station, slam my hands down on the desk, and demand to speak to whoever has my son.

It’s not a detective who walks out of the office behind the desk but Hillary from CPS.

“Maeve,” she says stiffly. “We meet again.”