Authors: Aimee Laine
“I promised to explain everything to him—in detail. It took another eight weeks before we could get him out of South America. When we did, we brought him here.” Charley’s voice cracked. “After we explained everything, he begged me to tell you, but we made him promise … again.” She waved a hand as if to change her answer. “No, I did. His eyes welled, Wyatt … when I made him promise. He had to give you up because of me.
“He’s been a part of my family since then, in a variety of ways, but it’s always … always … always been my fault that he couldn’t tell you.”
Wyatt gave her no response, his face reflected no emotion.
And I have screwed up again.
She turned to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
• • •
Wyatt followed Charley back through the house to the shared office. Her revelation gave him answers and loads of questions. They also suggested a few of her kind might have been part of some of his weirder assignments. As he thought about it, a few of those made even more sense.
Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.
Cael, James and Stuart formed a wall in front of a monitor, their heads rising as Charley and Wyatt walked in.
James smiled, his grin directed to Charley. “Forensics came back with some interesting information, and we just picked it up in the files.”
Wyatt bristled as if he’d touched on James’s territory when it came to Charley. He banked the emotions and the war that started within him.
“What did you find?” Charley asked.
“Sit down, and I’ll explain.” Cael turned from the monitor. “I’d like Lily here if possible, though. I think the more she hears, the more she’s aware of what’s going on, the stronger she’ll be for it.”
“I can hang with Sophie if you want,” Stuart said. When all the faces in the room turned to him, he shrugged. “What? She’s asleep. I can handle that.”
“Go, Stuart. Send Lily. And thank you.” Charley patted his shoulder as he walked by. “But nothing to lead us to our boy or understand who took him, right?” Her hand gripped the desk as if she needed its support before the answer fell into her lap.
Wyatt wanted to put his arm around her but hesitated and tucked his hand in his pocket.
“No, not yet.” James passed her a look that broadcast his disappointment in silence.
Lily walked in a few moments later, and Charley patted the seat next to hers. Pinpoints of glitter dotted her cheeks where tears had fallen again. Hands between her knees, she shivered as Cael began.
Wyatt leaned to Charley’s ear. “Can I sit between you two?”
She looked at him like he’d gone looney, but when he pointed to a shivering Lily, Charley gave him her seat. He put one arm around Lily’s shoulders and pulled her tight as Cael’s gaze grew dark and dangerous.
“Keep going,” Wyatt said. “She’s cold.”
Lily nodded her agreement, and Cael turned back to his screen of graphs, numbers and lines.
Thank the Lord.
Wyatt wanted to offer the same to Charley but didn’t know how she would react. At least with Lily, Cael’s responses consistently suggested they were a pair and anything he did would remain in the realm of friendship.
“So, this …” Cael pointed to a red line. “… indicates force. And this …” He pointed to a green one. “… direction. According to forensics, and based on Sophie’s little bit of information, it suggests the assailant was female, and the little dissection of the voice on the phone does, too.”
“How can they tell that?” Lily asked.
“By her injuries, for one. It’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand but have come to rely on these guys to help in this way,” Cael told her. “From x-rays and her semi-conscious account, plus pictures, they measure the force it took to create the breaks in our furniture, the damage in the house. In Sophie’s case, her injuries were light—but Sophie’s small, so she succumbed quickly.”
“So a woman?” Lily whispered.
“Or women,” James said. “If someone attacked Sophie thinking she was Charley, she might have known of Charley’s strength. Why they opted to keep Chase is beyond what we can find here, though, and I can’t see him going down without try—”
“He’s just a baby,” Charley’s voice took an edge toward anger but mixed with desperation. “He can’t defend himself.”
James shook his head and smirked. “He’s eight, Charley. He’s not a baby anymore.”
Charley trembled like Lily, but the chill hit Wyatt, too, despite their lack of connection.
Who is Chase, really?
“He doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t been taught. He’s barely been away from us outside of Sophie.” Charley’s breath hitched.
Cael coughed under his breath.
“What?” Charley’s tone turned suspicious. She moved her hands to her lap as she stood.
“I—” Cael stopped and looked to James who nodded but rolled his eyes.
“Tell me what’s going on, right now!” She tapped a finger on the desk.
“Go ahead, Cael, tell her,” James said.
Cael heaved a sigh. “We showed him a few things.”
“You
what?
What did you expose him to? He’s too young, dammit, and we all agreed! Eleven at the earliest, thirteen to know, for sure.” She pounded one fist into the palm of her other hand as she berated them.
So Chase is one of them.
In Montreal she’d called him her son.
Her and James’s then?
“We just thought—” Cael started.
“You thought wrong.” Charley furrowed her brow, her lips pursed, nostrils flared.
Wyatt let a small laugh loose, and she turned on him.
“Have something to say to defend them? You don’t know anything about this. You get no opinion, nor options, nor ability to vocalize any thoughts.”
Wyatt raised his hands in surrender. “Okay.” He jumped in further than he should have. “But what if what they showed him … helps? Or saves him?”
The words must have hit the mark as her eyes glazed with tears. Wyatt readied himself for the onslaught of emotion.
Charley heaved a sob. “What if it doesn’t? They were after me.” She pointed to herself. “Me, Wyatt. If they know what I am, they can guess what he might be, and that alone could get him killed!” She ran from the room for the second time in the same night.
So he is Charley and James’s. Dammit.
Wyatt stood with the intent to follow but James stopped him.
“Hang on,” he said. “Give her a sec.”
Wyatt started to go again when Cael held up a hand. “Wyatt,” he said.
“What is with you guys? Don’t you know the rule? Guy runs after girl when she leaves in tears.”
“Guy in love with girl runs after girl in tears,” James said.
Either way. Do I love Charley or still love Mira or whatever?
Wyatt kept his comments to himself.
“Can I just say one thing?” Cael asked.
Wyatt nodded.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For standing up for us, for helping, for being a part of this and not freaking out about what you’ve learned.”
“What do you mean?”
James and Cael turned to each other.
“We have really good hearing, comes with the ability to shift our eardrums. Anyway, we know about your conversation outside and what you’ve learned.”
“I don’t think I’ve learned
much,” Wyatt said. “Most of it has come with loads of blanks. I know Charley was Mira and Stuart’s been in on it for years. You guys are very good at keeping secrets.”
“We want to have a life, too,” Lily whispered from below where Wyatt stood.
“By having a child? Does that make your life real? No one’s even acknowledged whose he is!” Wyatt’s frustration poured out before he realized the tact he’d lacked in doing so. “I’m sorry.” He waved a hand behind him. “That was poorly timed and not at all appropriate.” He ran a hand over his head, drawing in and letting out a deep breath.
“It’s okay,” Cael said.
“No, it’s not.” Wyatt sliced the air as if to cut off all disagreements. “It doesn’t matter so long as he’s safe and unharmed. I’m …” He stopped, put one hand in his pocket. “I’m going home. I’ll come back … tomorrow.”
17
As the sun rose, Wyatt hedged. The brighter the day became, the more time passed, the more anxiety built within him about a return to Charley’s home. A trained field agent shouldn’t have nerves, he told himself over and over, but he continued to hesitate.
He dropped into his office where Sheila briefed him on various case updates—one of which came in the form of Charley’s. Wyatt rifled through the information, but the only new piece included a photo of a smiling red-headed boy named Chase.
To Wyatt’s mind, the boy looked nothing like Charley but had a hint of James in him. Then again, as shape-shifters went, Wyatt didn’t know squat about their early years.
In an attempt to linger further, he had a very late lunch with his Mom and dawdled until he realized they’d probably be moving along on the case without him if he didn’t return soon.
On his trek back to Charley’s, his thoughts moved from their first go-round to Montreal. She’d changed since her time as Mira—but her body’s shape conformed to his hands as it had before. He’d realized that in Montreal. His mind whirled with memories during his drive up the mountain. They both stabbed him in the heart and brought joy at the same time.
How do I let her go, though? Wait. Did she say James told her to stay with me?
Wyatt ran a hand over his head.
Maybe they aren’t a couple?
He shook his head at himself.
Why am I asking myself these questions and not Charley?
Branches extended far into the road, their leaf-tipped extensions offering a fairy-tale path. He imagined a horse-drawn carriage could follow it up and around toward a manor house. The trees added a romance he’d not seen before, especially not when he drove behind Stuart along the same curves a day before.
The vibration of his cell at his hip stopped his random thoughts.
He didn’t glance at the screen. “Moreland.” His car continued to move along the two-lane road at a regular pace.
“Stay away,” a voice said.
“Who is this?” Wyatt quick-turned his cell. The readout said ‘unknown’.
“It—it doesn’t matter. This is a warning to stay away from her. For your own safety.”
Wyatt snorted. “And I’m supposed to listen to someone who doesn’t identify themselves or the person I should stay away from.”
“I—”
Whispered voices provided either encouragement or guidance, Wyatt didn’t know which.
Sounds like these folks are breaking rank or very unorganized.
“Send her to us, and you’ll be kept out of it.”
“Doesn’t matter if you include me.” Wyatt adjusted the car to the road’s curve before he turned onto Turner Point’s upward spiral.
“Uh—” the voice said.
Wyatt grinned.
These guys are amateurs.
The caller disconnected without another word. Wyatt pressed ‘1’ to speed dial his office.
“Sheila McGowan.”
“It’s Wyatt. Please run my cell tap and send the details to Cael Aldridge.”
“Right now?”
When had she ever asked before?
“Yes, please.” Wyatt shook his head and hung up. A bright-red gleam caught the corner of his eye as he rounded another corner.
“What the—” He craned his neck, slamming the brakes.
The red spot bobbed to a stop.
Wyatt pulled to the side. “That was not an animal.” He put the car in reverse. It whined as he sped backward and returned to the spot where he’d first seen it. “Oh my god.”
Wyatt jumped from the car and ran around it to the edge of the forest. “Chase?”
Chase jumped from a hole and ran with nothing but socks and underwear that hung, three sizes too big, from his body. Wyatt took four leaps in his direction and caught him in one arm.
Chase fought, kicked and screamed. “Let me go!”
Wyatt kept him tight against his body but didn’t move toward his car. “Hey, buddy. I know you were taken. You’ve got to be scared. I’m not one of those guys, and I’m not here to take you back to them. I’ve been helping your—” Wyatt didn’t remember if Charley called herself mom or not. “I’ve been helping Charley, Lily, Cael, James and Sophie find you. And Stuart, too. You know Stuart?”
Chase stopped kicking but didn’t turn. Wyatt almost wished he’d continue to fight to show he hadn’t given up. Unless someone dropped him off, which Wyatt didn’t think possible, Chase had made his way from wherever he’d been. Dirty, scratched and bruised, his body smaller than Wyatt had pictured, Chase shivered in Wyatt’s arms.
“You don’t know me, and I don’t expect you to believe me. If you come back to my car, I’ll let you call Charley. Is that okay?”
Chase nodded.
Wyatt pulled him against his body to warm his chilled form—one that couldn’t weigh more than seventy pounds. The boy’s refusal to turn toward him set Wyatt’s pace at a limp.
He stepped out from the trees. “That’s my car.” He pointed with one hand but didn’t remove his arm from the boy, who hung like laundry. “I’m going to set you on the hood, since it’s warm, and I’ll get my phone from inside.”
He put Chase on the car just as he’d explained, and the boy turned away from him. Wyatt hoped he wouldn’t jump and run off. He grabbed his cell and held it out to Chase. “You can call them. I won’t even dial for you—unless you need me to.”
Chase snatched the phone and flipped it open but hid the numbers from Wyatt. “Charley?” he whispered, covering his hand over the phone’s microphone and tucking his body into himself.
Wyatt wanted to put his arms around him and hold him tight. Boney, like so many little kids who hadn’t yet filled out, had he been wet, too, Wyatt would have thought him a drenched rat.
“I’m okay. Hungry. Yes. He said his name was Wyatt.” Chase turned to Wyatt for the first time. “He’s kinda tall, sorta dark hair. Jeans. A T-shirt.” Chase cocked his head, opened his eyes wide. “I dunno. Green.”
Wyatt smiled as he moved to dig through his car for a candy bar. He often had one or two stashed inside.
“Okay,” Chase said. “Wyatt?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Charley wants to talk to you.”
Wyatt walked back to him and traded him a Snickers for the phone. Chase tore into the sugar-laden treat as soon as he let go.
“Um … hi,” Wyatt said. “Doesn’t seem worse for wear. I’m a mile away or less. Can be there in two minutes.” Wyatt closed his phone and turned to Chase, who’d added a chocolate mustache to the dirt and grime.
“You ready, buddy?”
Chase nodded at him, but his eyes twitched from the car back to Wyatt.
“You can sit up front if you promise not to tell, but first—” Wyatt grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He balled it up and tossed it to Chase, whose eyes grew wide.
Chase scrambled off the hood, shirt in hand, and threw it over himself; it hung to his knees. He climbed into the front seat and pulled the seat belt across his scrawny frame as Wyatt did the same.
“Ready to go home, buddy?”
• • •
Charley stood on the porch in an anxiety-ridden fervor—the minutes stretching too long. She’d answered her cell with the thought that Wyatt would make his apologies for a late arrival. Instead, Chase’s voice nearly shut her mind down like when she’d seen Wyatt for the first time, again.
Was he okay? Had they taken his captors into custody? Why was he with Wyatt?
James and Cael came with her, but Lily stayed inside; she worried she’d make such a scene that it might scare Chase.
Charley spotted the car as it made the turn into their drive. She darted toward it, reached the passenger door, and flung it open as soon as Wyatt pulled to a stop. Chase scrambled out and into her arms, wrapping his scrawniness around her neck and squeezing. Charley returned the embrace with the same ferocity. Her tears mixed with his red hair, which reeked of animal.
Bastards! They will pay for leaving him like this!
She pulled his face away from her shoulder, and while he hung on like a little monkey, she rained kisses over his filthy cheeks, nose and forehead.
“Yuck!” Chase induced a laugh in all of them.
Charley pulled him back in for another hug as Wyatt came around the car. She mouthed ‘thank you’ to him as he smiled at her.
“Hey, Chase.” At James’s call, Chase scrambled into his arms for another round of hugs.
Cael’s arms reached for him, and Chase jumped from James. Still at, but behind her shoulder, Charley heard them snuggle in. She reached a hand out to Wyatt, who stepped forward, but rather than shake, Charley buried her cheek against his bare chest. She wanted to cry, scream, or have her own temper tantrum, though ‘happily ever after’ sounded far better in more than one case.
“We’ll catch them, Charley,” Wyatt whispered into her ear.
She nodded into his shoulder.
“Cael?” Chase whispered. “I did it.”
“Did what, little guy?”
“I got away.”
Chase’s quiet murmur into Cael’s ear brought a swell of pride to Charley. She pushed away from Wyatt, careful not to overextend their connection. She realized, too, that he’d given Chase his shirt. She wanted to run her hands along the planes of his chest, through the hair, down and around anywhere she’d let him. With Chase safe, her hormones kicked in tenfold.
“I am so proud of you. I think we need to call you ‘little man’ now,” Cael said with a hitch in his voice.
Tears pricked the back of Charley’s lids.
“Or little mouse,” Chase said. “I really did it. Will Charley and James be mad at me?”
Charley cocked her ear in their direction; Chase and ‘whisper’ didn’t actually work as a team.
“No way little … ah … mouse?” Cael said as a question, adding, “Let’s go inside, get some lunch—and you can tell us all about it.”
“Okay,” Chase said.
They walked back into the house. Charley, James and Wyatt remained outside.
“Did he say what I thought he said?” James asked.
“You heard it, too?” Charley turned to Wyatt. “Where did you find him?”
“Making his way up the mountain. Saw a little bright red bob in the forest as I came around a curve. Backed up out of pure curiosity and
voilà
. I was as surprised as you guys seem to be.”
“Do you think the kidnappers know?” Charley asked.
“No idea,” Wyatt said. “I would imagine so, but …” He shrugged. “I got an interesting phone call on my way up—had just hung up when I saw the boy there.” Wyatt pointed toward the house. “So what exactly did he mean by ‘will you guys be mad at him?’”
Charley looked to James, who shrugged and nodded at Wyatt. “I think he transformed. But into a mouse? Really?” She shook her head at the thought. “Maybe he just thinks he did. Do we know anyone who can be an animal?” She turned to look at James.
He looked back at her. “Yes,” he said. “Just one.”
Charley drew in a quick breath and pulled her hands up to her mouth. “Oh my god!”
“Dammit.” James beat a hand against Wyatt’s car before he leaned with both hands onto the hood.
“What?” Wyatt asked, with his handsome and confused expression Charley wanted to kiss and snuggle herself into.
“Maggie can be an animal, and she left us eight and a half years ago.” James firmed his lips and turned his head skyward with his eyes closed.
Charley went to him and wrapped her arms around him. “This is good news, James.” She patted his chest, eying Wyatt from the end of the car’s hood. “I owe you for this.”
“For what? Picking him up off the side of the road? I really didn’t do anything. He’d have made it here by this afternoon at the pace he had going.” His furrowed brow and tight grimace confused Charley.
“Yes, for that. And for helping. And for not being freaked by all the weirdness.” She waved back toward the house but took a step toward him.
He backed up. “So, who’s Maggie?”
Charley shrugged. “Just a woman from long ago.” She wanted to run into his arms and thank him with her heart as well as her mind and body, but his hesitation threw her. “Um, would you like to come in? Maybe we can get more details from Chase? I’ll get you a shirt, too.”
As Wyatt stepped around her, Charley followed.
• • •
From the limited conversation, Wyatt gathered Chase’s gift had a more extraordinary level to it than anyone thought. He’d like to have asked Charley more about it, but the smiles she held and the excitement that abounded through the room at Chase’s arrival left Wyatt as an outsider looking in.
Charley’d found a T-shirt for him, which he slid over his form as a dusty, but happy, child began his tale, surrounded by family and friends.
“Um …” Chase looked around the room.
“It’s okay, Chasey.” Sophie, who’d been roused with the announcement, snuggled in to him, and Stuart wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m okay and you’re okay, so we can tell everyone what happened.” She turned first to James, then Cael.
Wyatt caught the small shrug. Her memory had not returned—that he knew.
“Well, the doorbell rang, and Sophie answered it. I thought it might be you guys, but instead it was these three big people dressed in black,” Chase said, his voice one of worry but interest as any seven or eight year old boy might have.
“How tall were they?” Wyatt asked. “Did they reach up to the art on the walls in the foyer or low by the doorknob?”
“Ummm.” Chase tapped his finger against his chin—a move Wyatt had seen Charley do on a number of occasions. “Almost to the top of the door.”
Between five and six feet, given Chase’s height and perspective as he looked up at them.
“And then they yelled for Charley, but Sophie told them you weren’t here, so they grabbed her. I tried to help.” He turned in Sophie’s arms. “I tried to help you.” His little voice cracked.
Sophie snuggled him even tighter. “You did a good job.” She winced over his shoulder as she hugged him.
“Are you sure? They didn’t break you?” he asked.
“Nope, nothing that can’t be fixed, and Mister Stuart and Lily are helping me feel better.”
Chase turned back to Charley.
“They only took Sophie with them in their big black car, but I followed them all the way down the road.” Chase dropped his head. “I’m sorry I went in the road.”