Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,85
my mother’s hair and release an overly dramatic huff. A nurse stands in the doorway with a small cart. Maybe she doesn’t deserve my ire; I want to throttle those responsible for snatching him away.
The middle-aged woman offers me the kind of smile meant to ease nerves. All I feel is strain in my muscles. Her eyes crinkle further as she glances around my room. “Ready for me yet?”
I want to refuse. That’s not going to help anyone, though. Once I comply, they’ll let me leave. Then I can be there to support Halder. And if they try to make me stay, I’ll climb out the damn window. I paste the fakest smile known to female charm on my lips. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”
Survival tip #26: There’s a loophole to any situation.
The radio crackles from the center console with another alert in a code I never cared to learn. That near-constant static has kept me awake as the midnight sky made room for daybreak. We’ve been in the car long enough that all of the scenery blends into a rippling wave of green, blue, and brown. My eyes sting as I try to focus on anything of significance. Asking where we’re going would be easy, but initiating conversation with these cops isn’t something I’m interested in doing. I’ve had plenty of practice sitting for hours without uttering a sound. But between getting rescued, only to be taken away from Blakely, then stuck in the back of this squad car, I have almost cracked a few times.
We crossed the border into Minnesota just after three o’clock. The officers took turns driving through the night so we didn’t have to pause for more than a moment to piss. Taking a plane would’ve been far more efficient, yet triple the cost. Transporting me in that much of a hurry isn’t high on their priority list. The pitch-black shadows shrouding my vision wasn’t a comfort, especially when I couldn’t track our route. My travel companions made it clear they preferred silence over small talk. That usually suits me fine, but this highway resembled a prolonged path leading straight to hell. My only company is the rapid thump of tires on pavement as miles turn the odometer. A brutal hammer clobbers me from the inside out, smashing against my ribs. That cracking sensation only gets more intense the further they force me from Blakely. I curl my fingers into trembling fists as our own long road unfolds and stretches. The journey ahead has never been simple for Blakely and me.
The plexiglass partition reflects glinting sunlight. Being on the wrong side of that bulletproof divider drags me back to bleaker days I never planned to revisit. I’m a free man, but the current position they have me in suggests otherwise. At least I’m not strapped in cuffs or chains. My rights weren’t read to me. They didn’t throw an orange jumpsuit at me. Those are decent signs this might go my way, at least somewhat.
“I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Rane. Ripping you away from the scene isn’t how we prefer to proceed, but your case is sensitive.” The officer’s voice is so unexpected that I almost recoil.
That reserve evaporates seconds later. “You can call me Halder. And what do you mean?”
His grunt suggests I’m clueless in this charade. “As a man recently released from prison who goes missing a week later, you’ve caught plenty of attention. Suspicion has been raised. They just have some routine procedures to go over with you.”
His speech is almost the same drivel I gave to Blakely. I chuckle at the irony. These guys are easier to read than Dr. Suess. “Got it,” I mutter at the fogging window.
“But don’t worry. Most of the confusion has been cleared up.”
Because there’s not a damn thing to pin on me. An urge to bash my skull against the unforgiving surface between us burns through me. “That’s just…great.”
“I bet you recognize this place.” His voice tints with the sort of amusement I’ve never found entertaining.
With a quick sideways glance, I see the unmistakable outskirts of Streebston coming into view. This means they’re delivering me to the police department nearby. And this bastard is antagonizing me. I rip through the ends of my already disheveled hair. Roaring tides are crashing against my gut as I attempt to rein in the fury. He doesn’t deserve a reaction for this shit. I stew in rage and regret until the bump of rotating wheels slows to a