Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Tate didn’t say anything even once we were inside his apartment. He just carried Matty to the little boy’s room and then shut the door. I didn’t follow him because I knew there was no place for him to go in the windowless room. I used the time to search out the contents of Tate’s kitchen and shook my head at the nearly bare cabinets. The fridge had a few items in it, but since I knew Tate had likely left the apartment within minutes of my leaving the week before, I didn’t trust that the food was any good. I searched out my phone to find the closest pizza delivery place and ordered some food. I gave Tate a few more minutes and then went to Matty’s room to find him. The door wasn’t locked so I quietly pushed it open.
The first thing I heard was crying - no, not crying – sobbing. Big, heart wrenching, bone deep sobs…the kind that made it hard to breathe. I didn’t see Tate as I pushed the door further open, but I saw that Matty was asleep under the covers. I had to open the door all the way to find Tate. He was sitting on the floor near his son’s bed, his back against the wall. His legs were drawn up and he was resting his elbows on his knees as he wept into his hands. I hated that I wanted to go to him, to sit down next to him and pull him against me and tell him it would be okay…whatever it was. At that exact moment, Tate looked up at me and even in the dim light I saw it. His naked need for me to do exactly just that. But then his eyes shuttered and he leaned his head back against the wall and turned his face away from me.
My chest felt tight as I closed the door and I actually found myself rubbing my fingers over the middle of it as if that would somehow stem the discomfort. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there for, but it wasn’t until I heard a sharp rap on the front door that I remembered where I was and why I was there. As I went to the door, I kept glancing over my shoulder as if half expecting Tate to come running out of the room seeking help from whoever was at the door. I had already pulled my gun from the back of my pants when I remembered the pizza I’d ordered. After giving the pimply faced delivery guy a generous tip, I took the pizza into the kitchen and put it on the small table. But my appetite was gone and when I didn’t hear Matty’s door open, I pushed the pizza away and leaned back in the kitchen chair and studied my surroundings.
Everything about this job was going to shit. I was no closer to finding the men who’d killed my wife despite having more information than I ever had before - information that should have been enough to lead me to them and take them out. Yet all I had was a guy who was clearly struggling to be a good father to a kid that wasn’t his. And the kid - a fucking cute little kid who was sick…very sick if the look on Tate’s face at the hospital had been anything to go by.
And none of it mattered.
Because I was still left with one undisputable fact – Tate Travers was my only hope of getting justice for the woman who’d changed my entire life…who’d been my entire life. I steeled myself not to care as I started making plans for how I would get out of Tate what I wanted. Because after all this was over, the young man would still have the kid he’d chosen to raise as his own and I would have nothing.
Nothing except knowing I’d finally kept my promise.
* * *
It was almost an hour before I heard footsteps heading towards the kitchen. I was still sitting in the same chair, but as Tate entered the kitchen, I looked up and held his gaze as he stood in the wide doorway.
“How did you find us?” he finally asked.
“Tracking device in Matty’s backpack,” I said. “I put a bug in there too.”
“You were listening to us?”
I nodded. I’d tracked Tate to the hospital, but I hadn’t planned to go in until I’d heard Tate talking to the woman about his account. The desperation in his voice as he’d talked about his kid needing the tests…
“You knew I’d run,” Tate murmured.
“You knew I’d be back,” I countered. I nodded to the chair across from me. Tate shifted nervously before finally sitting down.
“You only find Buck when he wants to be found,” Tate responded quietly. Although his tears had dried up, his eyes were swollen and red. He looked like hell so I got up and grabbed a few slices of pizza from the box on the stove and tossed them into the microwave. I searched out a cup and filled it with tap water and placed it in front of him. He didn’t respond, but he did reach for the cup to take several long drinks. But when I slid the pizza in front of him, he didn’t touch it.