Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

“The choice to be born lies not with you or Sawyer. The two of you are not to blame for any of this. All I am saying is that she has been damaged and is trying to make it from day to day.”

Evan thinks for a moment, his anger ebbing away, as he sees the truth in her words.

Wanting to get things back on track, I ask, “What happened after she visited you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Evan says. “I worried if I did, my father would come in. But even after I was sure he was asleep, I was too wound up. I began thinking about what might happen in the morning, and knew there was a good chance he would want to finish what he’d started. I wasn’t going to let him hurt Sawyer. And the only way to be sure that wouldn’t happen was to get my brother out of the house. I grabbed some of his warm clothes and a jacket, then we…um, snuck out.” He’s avoiding mentioning the actual method, but the only way they could have exited without having to turn off or trip the alarm was through his window, probably with Sawyer cradled between Evan’s body and the wall.

“Did you leave a note?”

“In Mom’s purse,” he says, nodding. “I told her not to worry. That we were going somewhere safe and would be back later.”

“Do you really think that stopped her from being worried?”

“Of course not. But at least she knows we were together and okay. I just didn’t want her calling everyone, trying to find us.”

“What if your father was the one who found out you were gone?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess if that happened, I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Are you really planning on going back?” Jar shoots me a sideways glance as she asks this.

“Where else would we go?” Evan says. “My plan was only to give Da…to give him a little more time to cool down.”

None of us say anything for several seconds.

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” Evan asks.

“It’s next to the room Sawyer’s in,” I say. “You can’t miss it.”

As soon as he enters the hallway, Jar and I go out onto the front porch, leaving the door open so we’ll see Evan when he comes back. The rain is still hammering down and no one will be able to hear us.

“We cannot let them go back,” Jar says, her voice low but full of urgency.

I look out at the street. I know she’s right, but I need to get things straight in my head first. There are only two realistic directions we can move in now, and that’s using realistic generously. Neither direction is guaranteed to remove Chuckie from his kids’ lives forever, and both share a common problem—the lack of time.

The first option is taking immediate action by getting the authorities involved right now. A trip to the ER would be the most logical step. Doctors and nurses are required by law to report incidents of potential child abuse. At least they are in California, so I assume the same is true here. But that would run into the whole Chuckie-is-a-friend-of-the-chief-of-police problem. We’d have to inform other agencies, both state and federal, to reduce the chance of the boys being reunited with Chuckie before a thorough investigation is conducted.

Once that is in progress, we would put together a package of everything we know or think we know about the fires, and send that to various law enforcement agencies, governmental departments, Gage-Trent Farming, Hayden Valley Agriculture, and dozens of press outlets nationwide. The package wouldn’t be as complete as I’d like, but it would have to do.

I don’t like relying on others to tie things up, though. Plus, I’d rather the immediate focus not be on Evan and Sawyer, which would be the case if we expose the abuse first. They’ve already gone through enough. Yes, it’ll all eventually come out, but things would be a whole lot easier if Chuckie’s outside criminal activities are the impetus for his arrest. Which explains choice number two.

For that plan to be successful, we need a little time. Actually, we could use more than a little, but I don’t think we can push matters more than another twenty-four or, at the outside, thirty-six hours. Can we wrap up the Mercy Arsonist case and tie Chuckie to it so tightly that he can never get free? I think so. I…hope so.

Worst case, if we can’t, we’ll go back to choice number one.

Getting the extra time is the problem. Whether or not we rest on the shoulders of someone else, we have no control over.

I explain my plan to Jar and she agrees. We go back inside.

Evan is still not back. With the sudden dread that he and Sawyer have slipped out a window, I go check on him and breathe a sigh of relief. He’s in the bedroom sitting next to Sawyer, who’s fast asleep, an arm around Terry the Tiger.

I stick my head into the room and whisper, “Come on back when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers back. “Give me a minute.”

When I return to the living room, Jar plays me a series of quick clips from the Prices’ house—Chuckie leaving the master bedroom, dressed for work; Chuckie heading downstairs without a glance at the boys’ rooms; Chuckie pulling a raincoat out of a downstairs closet; Chuckie leaving by the side door; Chuckie entering the garage, where he gets into the Mustang and drives away.

In other words, he went to work without knowing his sons were gone.

Jar starts to play another clip, this one featuring Kate, but we hear Evan exiting the bedroom and closing the door.

I cut to the chase. “Has she called anyone?”

“No,” Jar says.

“What’s she doing now?”

Jar taps a few keys, and a live feed comes up from the Prices’ living room. A cup of coffee and a piece of paper sit on the table in front of the couch. Instead