Steve stood in the cold waiting for Shane to arrive. He had arrived home about an hour earlier and had been disappointed to hear Kayla's message about the shopping trip. His disappointment had grown to concern as it grew later and he had been about to call Caroline when Shane had called him. Now, Steve was in barely contained, panic mode.
Just as he was about to jump out of his skin, he saw Shane's car pull into the parking lot. As Shane pulled to a stop, Steve opened the door and climbed in.
"What the hell do you mean they're missing?" Steve yelled as soon as he was inside. "What happened?"
Shane said nothing and shoved something into Steve's hand. He looked down and saw that the object was a flashlight.
"I drive; you look," Shane said, putting the car back in gear and tearing into the street.
Steve felt a chill run through him. Whatever was going on, Shane was not kidding. Steve turned the flashlight over in his hands before asking, "Will you tell me what's going on? Kayla left a message that she and Kim were going shopping, but that's all I know."
"It wasn't just Kayla and Kim, Steve." Shane took a deep breath. "They took Andrew and Mike and went to Brookville." Shane turned right, as the car sped toward the outskirts of town. "They should have been home about an hour ago. Do I need to connect the dots for you?"
The chill turned icy cold. Kayla could be missing. If Andrew was with them. . . . Steve tried not to think about that. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm and looked out the window, "Why aren't we taking the highway?"
"The Brookville mall's closer to Route 6," Shane explained. "Caroline said that's the way they always go."
Steve's heart sank as he thought of the long stretch of lonely highway along Route 6. He could not believe Kim and Kayla took Andrew shopping while some maniac was threatening his life? Steve did not care if Andrew's bodyguard was with them. He could not believe how foolish that was. And how could Shane have let Kim take Andrew?
"Why didn't you stop them?" Steve asked angrily.
Shane hesitated before answering. "I didn't know." Another pause. "Kim moved out this morning."
Now Steve got the picture. This was probably Kim's way of asserting her independence after whatever happened with Shane. Steve started to say something harsh, but stopped. It's not just Kim; his kid's in danger. Something told Steve that Shane was probably kicking himself a lot harder than Steve could.
"We'll find them," Steve said. "They probably just had car trouble and are just waiting for somebody to come looking for them." Please let that be all that it is.
Shane pulled the car onto Route 6. Five minutes later, they passed the boundary of Salem and headed down the dark road.
This would be a good place for an ambush, Steve thought. Shane turned on the brights and opened his window. Driving with one hand on the wheel, he shone his flashlight toward the side of the road. Steve did the same, getting blasted in the face by the cold air in the process. The car was only moving about 25 miles-per-hour, so they could get a decent look.
There was just nothing. Unfortunately, deep inside, Steve felt certain that there was something out there for them to find.
They drove past a number of farms and then drove into the area where Route 6 was surrounded by the Saybrook Woods. Steve pulled his jacket collar tighter to ward off the cold, as they continued toward Brookville.
Steve was about to ask if Caroline really knew how Kim would have driven to the mall when Shane slowed the car.
"Look there."
Steve turned his attention from the side of the road and looked forward. "That's a lot of glass," he said, his stomach sinking. There was too much glass on the road to be from a broken bottle. As they continued forward, now just inching forward, they saw something red and crushed.
"Tail light," Shane said. There was more debris as they continued forward. Some metal, maybe from a bumper. More crushed plastic - this time, clear - probably from a headlight.
They both saw the skid marks at the same time.
Steve's eyes followed the trail, which led across the opposing traffic lane. Shane must have seen the marks too, because he sped up and then made a U-turn, so Steve could get a better look out his side of the car. Steve almost wished their positions were reversed.
"My god," was all Steve could manage as his light reflected on a trail of metal that ran across the storm ditch. The car immediately came to a stop. Steve raised the beam; it was not that strong, but he could see that the car parts continued beyond the reach of the flashlight.
He and Shane were out of the car in an instant. Steve ignored the cold as he raced across the storm ditch and followed the trail. It took only a minute before he saw the wreckage of the car.
"Kayla!" he cried.
The car was nearly unrecognizable. It had flipped over and was lying upside down. The roof looked like it had caved in a bit. All the windows were broken, and metal and glass were strewn across the wet grass.
Steve neared the wreckage and began waving his light frantically. The beam flew about, showing no sign of anyone inside. He ran to the open door on the driver's seat, crouched down, and flashed the light inside. There was no sight of anyone, but his breath caught in his chest.
That's Kayla's purse. He recognized it immediately and looked around desperately. Oh, baby, where are you?
"Steve."
Shane's voice sounded bizarrely calm, but the tone made Steve freeze again. Hesitantly, he turned to where Shane was standing, just on the opposite side of the open back door. Steve stood and peered around the door, at the ground where Shane was looking.
"Mike," Shane said, his voice tinged with disbelief, as they both stared at the bodyguard's lifeless body
"Dammit!" Steve yelled, unable to hold back is anger. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled again. He turned and looked into the darkness, hoping for some sign of movement.
"Kayla!"
There was no response. Where is she? Steve felt the panic and rage building as he paced around the car. I'm going to kill whoever did this.
"Stop it," Shane said, from where he was crouched next to Mike's body.
Steve's anger flared even more strongly. "I'm not going to stop it," he shouted. "They-" He? She? "They took Kayla. How can you just act like it's nothing?"
Shane jumped to his feet and grabbed Steve. "I'm not," he said. "But we've got to keep our heads. Their lives may depend on it . . . just like they may depend on us preserving evidence. You keep stomping around, who knows what clues we might lose."
Abashed, Steve looked down for a moment and then nodded. Shane was right. But it was damn hard to keep his head when his wife had disappeared.
"Okay," Shane said. "Why don't you go around to the other side and see what you can find?"
Still struggling to contain his anger and panic, Steve went around to the other side of the car and began searching for clues. Ignoring pieces of glass that cut at his jeans, Steve got down on his hands and knees and aimed his flashlight through the passenger side window.
Steve's breathing sped up and his emotions threatened to overtake him again. The roof directly under the passenger seat was dark with some kind of liquid. Please be coffee, he begged silently. Please! Dreading what he would find, Steve reached out and touched the liquid. It was sticky and when he pulled his fingers back into the light, he saw that they were red.
"There's . . . blood over here," Steve forced himself to say. He could hear his voice quiver. He knew exactly who would have been sitting in that seat.
Shane's light flashed from the other side of the car. He spoke in a grim voice. "Mike's body is cold. This didn't just happen." Steve barely heard him. His mind was running through all the things that might have caused Kayla to bleed like that. He was still focused on that when Shane turned his light away.
"No!" Shane said, sharply, and his light moved rapidly around to the back seat.
That got Steve's attention. "What it is?"
"There's a shell casing . . . right by the back-" Shane's words cut off, his voice breaking.
By the back? Then Steve realized what Shane meant. Andrew would have been in the back seat.
Hesitantly, almost fearful, Shane asked, "Steve . . . can you check the backseat?"
Steve immediately saw why. A woman's coat looked like it was covering something. In the light, Steve saw that the jacket's sleeve was dark from blood.
It can't be him, Steve said to himself. His heart was pounding so loud, and the icy cold he felt inside his body felt far colder than the air outside. Slowly, Steve reached for the jacket, took a quick breath, and jerked it away.
Thank god, he said silently as his light settled on another jacket, this one obviously belonging to a child. He heard Shane say something, but could not make out the words. Then Shane pulled his flashlight back and began scouring the ground on the other side of the car.
Steve could not move. He looked at the blood on the jacket sleeve and then looked at the pool of blood in the front. She's hurt. Kayla's hurt and I don't know where she is. He was losing the battle again.
"Where the bloody hell are they?"
Shane's voice cut through Steve's fugue and he stood so he could see the other side of the car. Shane was moving around, waving his flashlight over the ground.
"Where are they?" Shane said to himself. "Blazes, where are they?"
"Where are what?" Steve asked, not wanting to know the answer.
Shane stopped looking at the ground and turned back to Steve. "I've got three sets of footprints. One I'd say is a man's, and the other two are almost certainly women's shoes. But no child's prints." He looked back down, and slowly said, his voice full of trepidation, "There's another shell casing. . . . It's . . . too close to be the one that killed Mike."
The cold raced again through Steve. They shot at Andrew. The thought rushed through his head, but it barely registered. They have Kayla. They shot at a little boy and they have my wife.
Stop it! he yelled silently. Steve was not helping anything anyone, least of all Kayla, by losing control. Look for clues.
Another thought dawned on Steve, and he shone his flashlight around the back door on his side of the car. Just outside where the jackets had been was a lot of shattered glass. The window had broken; it was big enough for a child to slide through.
Still waving the light, Steve saw what he was looking for. His beam of light had settled on some small footprints. They seemed to head off toward the woods.
"I've got them here," he shouted, turning his light in the direction of the trail. He started to follow the footprints, but Shane grabbed him.
"What?" Steve said.
"I need you to go back to the car and call Roman," Shane said, his voice still absurdly calm. "We need units for a search. Scofield has a search dog. Tell Roman to get it out here."
Steve almost argued and told Shane to go make the call. I'm not going anywhere. But then he stopped. Shane was right. It's his kid out there. If their positions were reversed, and it was Stephanie missing, an army could not have stopped Steve from rushing into the woods. Steve nodded. "Okay, dude. But I'm coming right back. We're gonna find him, Shane."
"Just go make the call," Shane said. He turned his light toward the footprints and started toward the trees.
We're gonna find them, Steve thought. And then I'm going to kill whoever did this. With that thought, Steve let out a deep breath and began sprinting toward the road. We're going to find them.