Love in the Light - Laura Kaye Page 0,56

find the actual stretch of highway where his family had crashed.

The investigation file listed a mile marker, which was the first piece of information he had to narrow his search, and there were also pictures of the accident itself. He’d seen them—and the whole file—before. When he was sixteen, he’d found the file and read it cover to cover, needing every gory detail like a junkie needed a fix. Caden had thought knowing would help, but it had just provided fodder for his subconscious to twist into nightmares and guilt and fear.

So he didn’t spend a lot of time looking at the photographs now—except to take note of the fact that the ditch and field where the car had landed were immediately after a long line of trees, which was part of what had kept anyone that night from seeing the over-turned car for so many hours.

First, Caden saw the mile marker, and then he found the tree line. He pulled the Jeep onto the side of the road. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Caden surveyed the scene, but beyond his knowledge of the photographs, not a thing there looked familiar. And why would it? The accident had occurred late at night and, by the time daylight broke, Caden had been out of his mind.

Taking a deep breath, Caden got out of the Jeep and walked around to the grass. The irrigation ditch was still there, creating a deep slope downward just a few feet off the edge of the road. He climbed into it. Stood there. Crouched down and placed his hand against the frozen earth where two people he’d loved had died.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, Mom and Sean. I’m sorry I lost you. I love you. And I’m trying so damn hard to make you proud.

Closing his eyes, he let his head hang on his shoulders.

A tractor trailer roared past, and the sound of it was familiar enough to send cold chills down Caden’s back. But Caden wasn’t trapped in that car. He wasn’t. Not anymore.

He rose to his feet and looked around for one last minute. There weren’t any ghosts there. There weren’t any answers there. The past wasn’t there.

The realization brought both relief and frustration. Relief that he’d come to this place and found it to be…just a place. Just an ordinary roadside sitting under the winter gray sky. Frustration because going there hadn’t brought him any closer to figuring out how to close the door on the past.

What else could give him any sense of closure?

Back in the Jeep, he flipped through the investigation file. A name caught his attention. David Talbot. The paramedic who’d been the first person Caden was aware of on the scene of the accident. What Caden most remembered about the man was the kindness of his voice, the reassurances he kept offering, the way he explained everything that was happening even though Caden hadn’t really been capable of following it. The man’s words had helped ground Caden after a long night of not knowing what was real, and Caden had always been convinced that David Talbot was the only thing that had kept him from going insane. And staying there.

Holy shit, why hadn’t Caden thought of Talbot before? Would the guy even be around? Maybe it was a long shot after fourteen years, but Caden’s gut said there was something to this idea. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

A quick search on his smart phone revealed that Talbot’s firehouse in Pittsville was only a few minutes away. Caden made his way there not knowing what to expect, or whether he should expect anything at all.

The Pittsville Volunteer Fire Department was a two-building complex with the main firehouse having five bay doors, all of which stood open. Yellow and white fire and E.M.S. apparatus occupied each bay, and a line of pick-up trucks filled the lot off to one side. Caden pulled his Jeep in line with the trucks and hopped out.

His pulse kicked up a notch as he approached the firehouse, and his chest filled with an odd pressure borne of anticipation. He stepped into the bay housing a heavy rescue truck and headed in the direction of voices, but something caught his eye. A big number 7 on the side of the truck.

Prickles ran over Caden’s scalp. Pittsville’s fire department was Station 7? The same number as the station he worked in. The same station number he had tattooed on his biceps. What were