Sobbing into my hands, I think of poor Big Boy scared and alone with that man he doesn't know. I think of the wallpaper in my old bedroom that I'll never see again. I think of those poor cows whose lives were cut short.
I think about the different look in the Bradford brothers’ eyes that told me their feelings about me have changed.
The best thing that ever happened to me is ruined.
Behind me, tires crunch across the stony ground, but I don't turn. I can't face them if it's my boys. I can't hold my head up anymore. Engines are silenced, and doors are flung open. Boots sound all around me, and I'm scooped from the ground and held close to someone's chest. I'm sobbing, my whole body racked with uneven breaths as voices shout around me.
"Just leave it," Cash says. "It's too far gone."
"But we have to do something."
"Fire service. I'm calling to report a fire…"
I'm carried further away and placed into the front seat of a different truck. My hair is smoothed away from my wet face, and I blink, finding Sawyer crouched next to the car, his expression filled with worry.
"What happened?" he asks. "Why are you here? What the hell happened to your hand?"
"They broke into Flint house. They took Big Boy. They burned Cooper's Cottage." I stare down at the red and purple bruises that are flaming around my wrist and the blood that has congealed over my knuckles. I didn't even realize I was injured, and to be honest, I don't even care.
Sobbing again, I bury my face in my hands.
"Who?"
"The Flint Brothers. They have Big Boy in a trailer at McCafferty's. I saw him, but I couldn't get him." Sawyer is on his feet in a flash.
"Scott, get over here. We need to go!"
"What? Where?"
"To find Big Boy. The Flints have got him, and Melanie knows where."
29
What happens next is a blur. Sawyer and Cary jump into the back of the truck, and Sawyer fastens the seatbelt around me from behind as Scott leaps in to take the wheel. The truck speeds away from the billowing smoke, back out onto the road, and I hide my face in my hands.
“McCafferty’s…so that’s where the Flints ended up,” Scott says through gritted teeth after Sawyer fills him in. “Those fuckers are going to pay.”
“Sheriff’s office,” Cary says on the phone. “I want to report a break-in at Flint House, arson at Cooper’s Cottage, animal poisoning, and a dog abduction…yes. We’re heading over to McCafferty’s Park now to try to retrieve the dog. The fire service has been called to deal with the arson. We don’t know what’s missing from the house right now, except the dog, and there’s no one there right now….okay. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” Cary hangs up the phone. “They’re meeting us over there. I think they’re worried that we’ll do something stupid.”
“I think they might be right,” Scott growls. “I swear, if they’ve touched even a hair on Big Boy’s paw, I’m going to separate them from their skin.”
“Was he okay when you saw him?” Sawyer asks, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“He was okay but scared. I called to him, but he was too slow, and the guy grabbed my arm and was trying to hold me. I hit him and struggled to get away. I wanted to call you, but I left my phone at the house, and then I saw the fire and…” I cover my face again, trying to swallow down my sobs but not entirely succeeding.
Sawyer rubs my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says. “You did everything you could. We’ll sort it from here.”
“But what if he hurt Big Boy? What if they’ve taken him somewhere else?”
“We’re going to find him.” Sawyer’s big hand squeezes my shoulder, and everything in me wants to believe that he’s right. But I’m a realist about life. Good things don’t always happen to good people. Sometimes terrible things happen to good people, and there is no rhyme or reason to explain it. No easy way to comprehend it. No way to get over the pain caused by it.
We have to find Big Boy, or I will never be able to live with myself.
And the Bradfords will never find a way to forgive me.
Scott throws the truck into the lot, filling the grooves caused by the tire spins from my exit. They’re throwing open the doors of the truck before I have time to unclip my seatbelt. “Where, Melanie?” Sawyer shouts.
“At the back of the park to the right. There’s a wooden porch. It’s the only trailer like that.”
The boys take off running, and I stumble from the truck, breaking into a run. They’re already so much further ahead, their strong legs carrying them, weaving through the trailers like lightning. I fight to catch up because I’m scared that this is all going to go so wrong. I don’t know why but men don’t seem to know when it’s too dangerous, and they need to walk away. They don’t assess risk the same.