It took ten minutes for him to make it across town to the house where Claudia had raised the kids. Spotting Dean's car in the driveway, he parked at the curb.
"Stay on the bike. Don't move. Do not follow me." He jogged across the grass to the front of the house.
Banging on the door, he looked around for any sign that Travis was here. His son knew better than to take off with Dean or anyone besides him or their grandma. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere but home after school.
For how often his kids had complained about Dean when they'd lived with their mother and stepdad, he had no idea why Travis would voluntarily go with him. Not when life had changed, and he was living with him permanently.
Impatient, he banged his fist on the door again. Dean was home. His damn car was in the driveway.
"Yeah, hang on, I'm coming," yelled Dean from inside the house.
The door swung open, and Dean stood shirtless in front of Wyatt. He curled his fingers.
"Where is he?" Wyatt looked beyond Dean to the interior of the house, ready to push his way inside to get to his son.
"Who?" Dean lifted a shirt and slipped it over his head.
"Travis." The motherfucker was going to play stupid. "You took him from school."
"I went to the gas station and saw the kid walking out, so I gave him a ride. He hates riding the bus, and I've picked him up...for years." Dean's gaze went toward the street, and he lifted his hand in a wave to Jess.
Wyatt shifted, cutting of Dean's line of vision toward his daughter. Dean's days of being the lazy ass stepdad were over. He wasn't going to stand here and listen to how life used to be. The kids were with him. He'd raise them the way they should've been brought up from the beginning.
A car pulled into the driveway. Aware that Dean's house always had a steady stream of people coming and going, he suspected the high volume of visitors was the one reason his ex could never stay clean for more than a couple of months. It was also the reason why his children used to run wild. Dean and Claudia never allowed them to hang around the house if there were people around.
Without any proof that drugs were being sold and used, there was nothing he could do. Now that Claudia was dead, he shouldn't have to put up with her husband. He was nothing to the kids.
"He better be at home," said Wyatt.
"Or what?"
He got in Dean's face. The people arriving shouted out, asking if there was a problem. Wyatt held his ground. He wasn't afraid of the deadbeats looking for any excuse to try and rough him up. He'd had a lifetime of protecting himself and looking out for what was his.
Wyatt lowered his voice. "If Travis isn't at home, I'll be back."
Walking away from the house, he got on his Harley, made sure Jess was settled behind him and headed home.
At the apartment, he parked. "Go and see if your brother is inside."
Jess handed him the helmet and ran to the door. Using her key, she disappeared inside.
Ready to take off again if Travis wasn't home, he sat on his Harley. Concern for his son left him jumpy. Excess energy threatened to send him into a panic.
He would do anything for his kids.
If someone else touched them, hurt them, even looked at them wrong, he would choke the life out of the person.
Jess reappeared, slamming the door. "He's not here," she yelled.
Damnit. "Go inside. Lock the door. I'm going to find him."
"I'll look around here." Jess kept coming in his direction.
"No." Using his feet, he rolled the bike away from the curb. "Go inside, Jess."
He already had one of his kids missing. He needed to keep Jess safe.
A motorcycle rode toward him. Recognizing Roddy, Wyatt stopped and pointed for Jess to go back to the apartment. To his relief, his daughter hurried to the door, glancing over her shoulder, and finally shut herself inside, obeying him.
Roddy shut off the engine of his bike, reached behind him, and undid the Bungee cord on his seat. "You forgot your tool belt at the worksite."
"Do me a favor and drop it by the door, I'll get it when I get back."
Roddy's gaze sharpened. "Problem?"
"My son took off again. I'm going out looking for him."
"Want help?" asked Roddy.
Even knowing that Roddy's type of help included Tarkio Motorcycle Club and that help always came with a favor in return, Wyatt said, "I'd appreciate it. I'm going to go over to the school and work my way back here."
"We'll fan out all over town." Roddy removed the satellite phone from the bag on his Harley. "Someone from Tarkio will come to the apartments and notify us if he comes back. What color shirt is he wearing?"
Rubbing his forehead, he tried to remember what his kid wore that morning when he'd left for school. "A, uh, black shirt with a blue and white flannel over it."
"Got it." Roddy held the phone to his ear. "Go on. I've got it covered on this end."
He rode off, roaring out of the parking lot. Hyper alert to his surroundings, he looked for his son. Something had to give.
Either Dean needed to disappear from their lives and leave his kids alone, or Travis needed a good ass-whipping and learn not to run off all the time. He couldn't be looking for his son every damn week, imagining the worst.
Kids disappeared every day, stolen out from under the school system, kidnapped by non-custodial parents, and whisked away by strangers who were intent on brainwashing them until they'd lost all sense of who they were and where they'd come from. Hell, there were even the Rajneeshees in Oregon who enticed runaways to join them from surrounding states, including Montana.
Chapter 13Joey
THE DISHES IN THE CUPBOARD rattled. Joey grabbed onto the edge of the counter. It
