He shook his head. "No, she didn't. I saw Dean put her in the car. She was already dead, and Dean drove."
"Oh, honey..." She swallowed.
Whatever he'd seen must've scared him to death. He was a child and probably misunderstood the adult situation. People on drugs could act differently, even appear dead when they were out of their mind from the effects of whatever they'd snorted or consumed.
"I'm not lying." Anger flashed through his eyes, hardening his mouth. "I heard Dean force her to take the drug and then laugh, telling her it was dirty. I didn't know what that meant, but I do now. If I would've known...I could've stopped him. I could've saved her. When he carried her to the car, I snuck in the bedroom and found the drugs and stuffed it all in a bag, hiding it in my room."
"Does Jess know?" Concerned that while they were held captive in the room, Dean would go after Jess.
Travis shook his head. "I told her Dean killed Mom, but she didn't believe me. I didn't tell anyone I had the proof. A few days later, when Dad came and picked us up that night after the police told us mom had driven into the river, I brought the drugs with me so Dean couldn't kill anyone else."
"Oh, Travis," she whispered, hurting for the boy.
"You have to believe me."
Her heart squeezed, and she strained against the binding on her wrists, wanting to go to him. "I do, buddy. I do."
Travis sniffed and wiped his cheek on his shoulder. "Dean must've figured out it was me who stole them. He kept following me after we moved in with Dad. That's why I kept running away and couldn't tell Dad. I've hidden the bag three times, moving it to different places, and he's never found it. I didn't want him getting to Dad or Jess or you, and making you take the drug. I figured if I hid the bag away from home, he'd leave us alone."
That poor boy. Travis was now fourteen years old and he'd lived through more than she would in her lifetime. To lose his mother and have a grown man threatening him and chasing him, no wonder he was scared to death. If only Wyatt had known, he could've done something.
Dean Miller hadn't wanted to gain custody of the kids. He was after his drugs and if he knew that Travis had knowledge of his mom being dead before the crash, who knew what Dean would do.
"I will do whatever I can to protect you, but we need to draw attention to this room." She rolled, groaning in pain.
Every time she managed to heave her body over and roll on her shoulder, pain shot down her arm and up her neck. By the time she managed to roll across the room, she was lightheaded and nauseated. She wiggled until her feet were against the door.
"Your voice is louder than mine. Yell as loud as you can, and when you're done, I'll kick the door and make as much noise as I can." Lying on her back, she pulled her feet up, ignoring the fact that her weight was all on her arms tied behind her. "Go."
Travis yelled. His voice deeper than hers, she wasn't sure it was louder. As soon as he stopped, she kicked the flat of her feet against the door, one after another, as if she stomped Dean Miller's head.
Her thigh muscles burned. She gave one last attempt and stopped. "Your turn. Yell."
Back and forth, they used what they had, and they fought to stay positive. Her optimism that someone would hear them waned with each turn, and no one came to check out the noise. She grabbed on to the hope that they were making so much racket that when Dean returned, he'd be afraid to open the door and have someone hear them.
Come on, Wyatt. Please hear us. Please find us.
Chapter 36Wyatt
FRUSTRATED AT NOT FINDING Travis and Joey instantly after talking with Mrs. Danski, Wyatt stared at the closed-off apartments in Unit C. It was a smaller building with only four apartments, whereas the other units had six on top, six on the bottom level.
If Mrs. Danski had watched them walk over here with who he suspected was Dean, where the hell could they be? He walked around the building again, checking bushes again, checking the stair alcove again.
The rain soaked his jeans, plastering them to his legs. Any footprints in the grass would've been ruined by the storm. It was too dark to see more than a foot in front of his face. Forcing himself to calm down, he stepped into the alcove.
Leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, he clamped his teeth and inhaled through his nose. Worries clouded his thinking. He'd just got his kids after being a part-time dad and fighting for custody their whole life. Parenting wasn't supposed to be that damn hard that he couldn't keep track of one stubborn boy.
What was he doing wrong?
Now Joey was missing, too. He swallowed the fear choking him.
Joey was everything good. His whole life, he'd looked for that one woman who he couldn't live without, and after a lot of mistakes and attempts, he'd finally found her. He loved her, and he wasn't willing to lose her.
He couldn't lose his family.
The railing vibrated underneath his arm. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he looked around. There was no thunder, nobody living in Unit C.
He wrapped his fingers around the iron. His breath caught in his chest, feeling the movement again. He catapulted himself over the railing onto the stairs and ran up to the second story. Muffled banging came through the steady patter of rain. A noise he hadn't heard from the ground.
"Travis?" he yelled. "Joey?"
"Dad!"
His heart burst. "I'm here, son. I'm here. Keep yelling. I'll find you."
He tried door handles, finding them locked. The banging grew
