Page 62 of Rescuer
Three hours later, they had completed the sweep of the entire section of woods. Dylan’s backpack and key chain remained the only clues. Wherever the boys had been, they were no longer here.
The one gain from those grueling hours was that local law enforcement finally recognized it was possible Dylan and Reggie hadn’t run away. No one said it outright, but the signs of struggle and the personal items left behind seemed to have shifted their thinking.
Jackson returned to his house that afternoon filthy, tired, hungry, and hollow inside. He slumped on the faded dark-blue sofa in the living room and stared at the five-shelf bookshelf he’d made by hand, nearly overflowing with paperbacks in a variety of genres. If Dylan had been taken, he could be anywhere—maybe not even in the country. The thought burned in his chest like acid.
So many questions. Guilt stabbed him. How much of Dylan’s disappearance was his fault? It seemed like his entire life, he’d let people down to the point where they’d abandoned him.
He wanted to collapse and give in to the grief threatening to crush him, but he couldn’t. His brother needed him.
Something Mia had said came back to him—the flyer from a teacher at school. Jackson texted Jason.
Jackson
Got a minute to talk?
A couple of minutes later, Jason called. “Hey, we still have Mia here. What do you need?”
Jackson grimaced. Jane wouldn’t be happy that Mia still wasn’t home, but Mia was a grown woman, and she had made it clear she could take care of herself. It was hard, though, knowing that she was facing this without anyone supporting her. She’d come to help him, and then he’d let her go off on her own.
Except, finding Dylan was critical. Mia understood that.
“I was thinking about that teacher Mia mentioned,” Jackson said, recalling the conversation. “The one who gave her the flyer about the foundation. I find it rather suspicious.”
“I’m already ahead of you,” Jason replied. “We’re investigating him. Got a warrant to search his computer and his home. That’s all I can tell you for now.”
“I guess that’s all I can expect.”
There was a pause before Jason added, “I’ve also got a warrant to search Mia’s stuff and her home. Because her being a counselor at this camp is not looking good for her.”
Jackson wanted to protest, but instead said, “I get it. You have to do what you have to do. But I’m telling you, buddy—I don’t think she’s involved. I think she’s another victim.”
“That’s quite possible,” Jason said, “but until we know for sure, she’s a suspect.”
He hung up. Jackson got up and meandered into his small, efficient kitchen. He pulled out a notebook and began to write a list of everything they’d learned so far. He’d call Mia to check on her later, then they could compare notes and see if there was anything they’d missed.
Despite what the cops believed, he trusted her. He’d seen how hard she’d taken it when she’d found out a student had disappeared.
They’d both changed in the past decade, but he was wrong about one thing: The integrity he’d once thought she’d lost had never gone away. Mia Turner was genuine, and if anyone wanted to find those kids as much as he did, it was her.
Mia’s leg bounced up and down as she sat in the hard chair at the table. She cradled the bottled water they’d given her in her hands—not because she was thirsty but because she needed to do something.
She’d never been in a room so cold and barren. Off-white walls. No pictures. The only furniture in the room was a rectangular table with a black surface and two wooden chairs on either side, and she sat facing what she was sure was a two-way window.
She bit back a sarcastic comment. Snark was her go-to attitude when she felt trapped. But she couldn’t give in. Not here.
“You have a lot of weapons, Miss Turner. I see you own several guns, a crossbow, and you’re a regular visitor to the shooting range.” The lieutenant—Lieutenant Coleson, according to his badge—turned a page in the file he had in front of him. She could see a printed list. On the next page, images of the weapons she owned taunted her.
“I’m a single woman. I need to be able to defend myself.” Mia forced herself to speak in a level voice. “My guns are all registered.”
Yes, sir, I follow the law. I am a responsible citizen.
“Mm-hmm. Martial arts too.”
She wouldn’t apologize for that. She wasn’t a black belt, but again, she could, and would, defend herself.
“Why did you encourage Dylan and Reggie to attend this camp? You claim you’d never heard of the foundation that sponsored it before.”
She closed her lips to hold in an explosive sigh. She’d already been over this. Several times. In fact, she had gone over all the events of the past few days multiple times. She told them how she’d learned about the camp, how she and Jackson had started working together, what she had done in the past few days to try to find Dylan, and how they had been chased in the woods and found the body.
