Jameson’s voice filtered through the living room but Holden ignored his friend’s phone conversation and glanced around the room looking for any signs a man lived there. Anything that would tie Chad to Patty.
“Nixon’s going to the hotel now. We’ll know in twenty minutes if Chad’s still in Kent County,” Jameson said as Rhode came back into the living room.
“A man’s living here. There are clothes in the closet.”
Holden’s heart rate ticked up and he strode to the kitchen. Jackpot, the garbage can was full. Without delay, he dumped the contents on the kitchen floor and used the toe of his boot to shift through the mess. He knelt and picked up a balled-up receipt and smoothed it out. Seconds later, Holden tossed the grocery receipt and continued to comb through the trash.
Once the trash in the house had proved to be useless, Holden and Jameson went to the garbage can outside and tore through those bags.
It took twenty minutes for Holden to finally find something. But when he did, he hit paydirt.
“They’re in Charlottesville,” Holden announced, holding a wrinkled, sullied booking confirmation. “Reservation under Chad Bullock.”
“Before we head out, let’s have Micky work her magic,” Jameson suggested.
Holden didn’t want to wait another second. He wanted to get on the road and go get Faith but he knew Jameson was right. McKenna Swagger could hack into the hotel’s security feed and computer systems to find out if Chad had checked in. They’d also have a clearer picture of what they were walking into.
His every instinct screamed for him to run to the little girl as fast as he could. She had to be scared out of her mind, even if her grandmother and aunt had her. Holden closed his eyes and remembered the last time Faith had been forced to see them. The Towlers had filed for visitation, and a guardian ad litem had been assigned to Faith. The overworked GAL had meant well when she’d set up a series of supervised visitations. According to Charleigh, the first two visits had been awkward but not traumatizing. No, the Towlers had saved that for the third visit, when they’d explained to Faith in front of the court-appointed social worker that from then on, Faith would be spending more time with them. Beatrice made her faulty play when Faith had expressed she didn’t want to spend weekends with her grandmother, and certainly not the whole summer, which was what the Towlers had wanted. Bea didn’t back down—she argued with Faith, then turned to Charleigh and bitched her out, accusing her of a whole host of nasty shit.
That was the last time Faith had been in the same room with Bea and Patty. But, it had left a lasting effect. One that Holden had gone down to Virginia to deal with when Patty and or Bea kept showing up at Charleigh’s condo, demanding to see Faith.
Holden had thought he’d made himself clear the last time he saw Beatrice. A pang of regret hit his chest. Beatrice Towler was a Gold Star Mother, her son had given his life in protection of his country. That meant something to Holden; even if he didn’t personally like the man, there was no disputing he’d died a hero’s death. Paul had been a teammate, and Holden had held his hand while he died.
And during Paul’s last moments of lucidity, he’d given Charleigh back to Holden. He’d also asked Holden to take care of his daughter. The memory was so vivid, Holden could smell the stench of sweat and blood, he could hear the artillery blasts, taste the fine-powdered sand and debris in his mouth as he tried to swallow the inhuman request.
Paul could’ve asked Nixon.
But he didn’t—he’d burdened Holden with more regret, more pain, more torture.
So in the end, Paul Towler had won. He’d instigated the biggest fuck you he could, then died.
Since that day in the desert, Holden had broken every promise he’d made to the dying man. But today, he’d finally start fulfilling it. Holden would get Faith back, and once she was safe with her mother, he’d protect her any way he could. Charleigh could try to stop him, but Holden was done licking his wounds. He’d been a coward for far too long. Now Faith’s life was in danger and he had to wonder if that was his fault. Had he done everything he’d promised Paul, would Faith be missing?
Fuck, no, she wouldn’t be.
If he hadn’t been such a dumbass, he would’ve checked his ego and made things right with Charleigh, even if right only meant taking care of Faith.
Holden’s eyes came open when his phone shrilled.
Kennedy’s name flashed on the screen.
“Charleigh okay?” Holden asked by way of greeting.
“Holden,” Charleigh breathed.
“Leigh-Leigh, are you—”
“Please find her.”
“I will,” he promised. “We have a lead.”
“I know McKenna’s looking at security tapes from a hotel. I saw her.”
“Saw who?”
“Faith.” The word came out as a whispered sob. “That PI was carrying her.”
Christ Jesus. Why had Micky allowed Charleigh to see that?
“Charleigh, you don’t need to see that. Let Nixon and the guys handle everything. You need to relax. You have a—”
“No. I need to help. Nixon’s not here and McKenna wanted me to ID the guy. He was carrying Faith, but she wasn’t moving. Do you think… oh, god…what if…”
“Stop, baby, don’t do that. I’m gonna go get Faith and bring her home to you, and when I do, she’s gonna be just fine.”
That was a lie. Faith wasn’t going to be okay—she was going to be emotionally traumatized. The poor girl had probably been drugged as well.
“My parents are here,” she moaned and Holden almost cracked a smile.
Charleigh had never had a good, loving relationship with her parents; they were both too domineering for that, her mother especially. The woman always had something to
