Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
My father places himself between me and the two men still wary of my intentions, before asking, “When?”
“Around twenty minutes ago…” I choke on my words when I glance at his watch. It’s a classic timepiece my grandfather handed down to him when he joined the bureau. The exact timepiece his father had handed him when he enrolled in the same academy. It shows that more time has passed than I believed, and that the men I assaulted are agents not civilians.
Guilt chops up my words. “I tried to call you, but I took out my phone’s battery when I snuck out and placed it in Cameron’s purse so you couldn’t track me.”
As my watering eyes drift to the charred remains of the van, I bite back a groan. The flames haven’t yet fully engulfed the cockpit. Though the air is smoky, the contents spilled from Cameron’s fringe purse remain unhidden. Her favorite lip gloss sits to the left of my cell phone battery.
I wish that were all the evidence my eyes stumbled upon.
There’s also blood. A lot of blood.
“Is that…?” I swallow, unable to finish my sentence.
My father steps into my path again. His eyes, which share the same icy-blue hue as mine, convey an equal amount of determination. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.” I shake my head when he tries to place miles between Cameron’s last known location and me. “You need to go home.” He grabs me by the shirt, his rough handling unusual. He has rules for rules, but he’s stern with words so he doesn’t have to use his hands like his father did. “This is not negotiable, Grayson. Go home, tell your mother what happened, and then don’t talk to anyone until I’ve returned with a lawyer.”
I dance my eyes between a pair identical to mine in every way, disorientated and confused. “I didn’t do this—”
“Not a word, Grayson. Do you understand?” Fear clouds his eyes. He isn’t worried about himself. He’s terrified about what this could do to me.
His concern almost folds me in two, but I can’t forget my objections. “Cameron…”
His grip on my shirt shifts from anarchy to remorse. “I will find out what happened to her. I promise you that. But I need you to go home so I can do my job.”
Although I want to refuse and keep fighting, I trust my father, so I allow him to transfer my care to a junior agent.
I’ve never been more stupid.
1
GRAYSON
Current day…
My father didn’t keep his promise.
At my desk in a dim, cramped office, shadows dance across cubicles that agents vacated hours ago. The buzz of city nightlife outside is a constant reminder of how the world keeps moving, even when my life is stuck in a never-ending loop.
I’ve been an agent almost as long as I have been legally allowed to drink, and during that time, I’ve solved countless cases and brought thousands of criminals to justice, earning me a place among some of the bureau’s finest. Yet one case continues to haunt me: Cameron June.
Seventeen years ago, a known gang affiliation kidnapped Cameron, but I still feel her hand in mine in the minutes before her abduction. We were kids getting into mischief, but that night changed everything, and I’ve been fighting my way out of hell ever since.
I’m surrounded by case files chronicling the journeys of those seeking justice. Despite my success, I can’t dispel the thought that I failed Cameron.
My father’s hesitation was understandable, but I should have trusted my instincts and stayed at the scene. An extra set of eyes would have been more helpful than worrying about potential charges for damaged property worth millions.
I saw Cameron’s kidnappers’ faces, studied the evilness in their eyes while I fought to save her. Although I could have identified them in a lineup, the bureau never gave me that opportunity. I had to sit on my hands until I aced the academy, then gather information about her case from my colleagues without disclosing a conflict of interest.
Everyone thinks I’m here because the hours I spent cleaning up the mess I made to the sports fields at St. Eugene’s put me on the straight and narrow. They have no clue I wouldn’t be here if my position didn’t allow me to work day and night.
While my time in the bureau has led to lifelong friendships and personal growth, a private agenda has truly driven my career aspirations.
I need to find Cameron, and I won’t stop until I do.
After checking that the coast is clear, I pull my wallet from my trousers and slide out a faded photograph of Cameron and me, taken three weeks before her abduction. We’re smiling, appearing carefree, even though the owner of the car we “borrowed” was tracking it.
As I trace my finger over Cameron’s heart-shaped face, my chest aches with a memory of that day. I remember it vividly. I was grounded for a month for taking my father’s car without asking, but the gift Cameron gave me in his government-plated vehicle made it worth it.