A Cry In The Night. Linda Castillo
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in a broken heap and sink to the floor at his feet.
But she didn’t. Instead, she squared her shoulders, met that hard gaze with one of her own and said, “Eddie is your son. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. But I need you to help me find him. Right now.”
Buzz Malone had been struck by lightning once when he was fifteen years old. One minute he’d been standing on a rock ledge looking out over Pike National Forest during a summer storm. The next he’d been lying on the ground disoriented and confused, with second-degree burns on his arms and feet.
The doctors had said it was a miracle he’d lived.
Buzz wondered what the odds were of a man surviving such an ordeal twice in his lifetime, because he felt as if he’d just been struck again.
Her words rang in his ears like a thunderclap. Shocking. Dangerous. Damning. He wanted to deny them, give voice to the outrage boiling inside him. But for the first time ever, the power of speech failed him. He stared at the woman he’d spent three years loving more than life itself, the last few years trying desperately to get out of his system and the world rocked violently beneath his feet.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked the question, but Buzz had already done the math. If the child was four years old, there was no doubt of his parentage. Kelly might not have been able to live with Buzz, but she’d always been fiercely loyal. There hadn’t been anyone else. Not for Kelly. Certainly not for Buzz.
She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap, and bit her lower lip, the way she always did when she was upset or in trouble. Buzz figured the conversation they were having qualified for both of those things—and then some.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just…at the time, I couldn’t,” she said.
“Tell me what?” He knew damn good and well what she was about to say. But his brain refused to believe it. His mouth refused to say the words aloud. He didn’t want to hear it, but he knew more than anyone just how futile wishes could be.
How in the name of God could she have done such a thing?
“I wanted to tell you a thousand times,” she began. “But I didn’t think you’d want to know.”
Slowly, he turned to face her. “You kept my son from me.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“Hurt isn’t the right word.”
“Oh, I forgot,” she choked. “Buzz Malone doesn’t hurt like the rest of us mortals—”
“You stole four years of my son’s life from me. I’m too angry with you to hurt.”
“You made it clear, Buzz. You never wanted children. You didn’t want me.”
Uttering a nasty curse, he turned away from her and stared blindly into the kitchen, his heart ricocheting like a bullet in his chest.
“Don’t you dare turn away from me,” she said. “Not now.”
Clenching his jaws against the shock rocking his brain, he turned back to her. “You had no right to lie to me.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Don’t play semantics. You lied by omission.”
“You made your choice when we were married. I simply made it easy for you to walk away.”
“You’re the one who did the walking.” But he was guilty, too, because he had merely stood there and watched and didn’t do a damn thing to stop her.
Tears shimmered in her eyes when she looked up at him. “I can’t talk about this right now. I can’t, Buzz. Please. I’m begging you. Just…for God’s sake, help me find him.”
The need to know everything—every detail about his son—was an ache in his chest, but he knew she was right. The backcountry at night was no place for a young boy.
“Okay,” he heard himself say. “Jesus. Okay. I’ll find him. Let me make some calls. Give me a minute to get dressed.” A moment to pull himself together.
Buzz knew her revelation was going to change his life, and he knew that ultimately it would hurt him in ways he could only imagine. In ways he’d never, ever wanted.
He felt the shakes descending. Tremors that started in his hands, then spread to his arms, his legs. Simultaneously, he felt the emotions snarling in his gut like a big cat rudely wakened from a deep sleep. Shock. Disbelief. A keen sense of betrayal that cut as jaggedly as any fang. The slow burn of fury spread through him like a flash and for a moment, he grappled for control.
Buzz didn’t have time to feel betrayed. He didn’t have time to acknowledge the fury burgeoning inside him. He didn’t have time to feel anything at all. A hundred questions jammed into his brain, but he shoved them back. He would dig the answers out of Kelly later. Right now, there was a young life at stake. A life he had every intention of saving.
“I want to see him,” he said.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“A picture.” She looked on the verge of shock, but he refused to feel compassion. He refused to feel anything at the moment or risk the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Do you have a picture?”
Bending her head, she opened her purse and rummaged frantically inside. An instant later, she produced a three-by-five-inch color photo. “This was taken a couple of months ago.”
Buzz stared at the photo, aware of the low roar of blood coursing through his veins, the hot zing of anger fusing with a throng of pain. He saw a little boy with freckles and dark-brown hair and an impish smile that was crooked and ended with a dimple in his left cheek. He saw innocence and tried not to think of all the terrible things that could happen to a child. In the mountains alone at night or in a world that could be merciless to the innocent.
Moved more than he wanted to be, a hell of a lot more than was wise, he looked away from the photo, then turned away from her so she couldn’t see the emotions he knew were plainly visible on his face. “I’ll want answers later,” he said. “You owe me an explanation.”
“I know I do. Just…after we find him.”
Without looking at her, he snatched up the phone. His fingers trembled as he punched in the numbers to Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Headquarters.
Senior medic John Maitland picked up on the first ring.
Buzz identified himself, his voice sounding strangely calm. He could hear raucous laughter in the background. The blare of rock and roll. The familiarity of those things gave him a badly needed sense of control, and he held on to it with all his might. “This is a call out. Code Red. I want everyone in house geared up and standing by. I’m on my way. ETA ten minutes.”
“I’ll put out the call to the team.” John hesitated, as if sensing something wasn’t quite right. “What’s going on?”
“A lost boy up at White River. Four years old. I’m going to swing by on my way to the East Ranger Station.”
“White River? I heard the call on the radio. Isn’t that out of our jurisdiction? Boulder One SAR took it—”
“I don’t give a damn about jurisdiction,” Buzz snapped. “We’re on it. Just do it.”
Silence hissed for half a beat. “Yes sir.”
“I want the chopper standing by. A winch team. I want weather reports. Night-vision equipment. Get someone over to the ranger station with a terrain map. I want Jake Madigan and a dozen volunteers on horseback ready for a grid search. I don’t give a damn how many favors you’ve got to call in. Just get me some men. You got that?”
“Loud and clear.”
Buzz slammed down the phone, turned to face Kelly. She stared back, her face ashen. He saw the imprint of