Page 43 of The Catcher
A loud crash awoke him.
When his eyes flicked open, the house was in darkness.
The thunder felt like it was on top of his house, shaking it hard, but that was the wind. He heard another crash. This time, the far side of the cabin. No longer drunk but feeling worse than he ever had, Noah pushed himself up from the sofa; Noah’s head throbbed with pain, the remnants of his drunken stupor clinging to him like a heavy shroud. He staggered to the kitchen, his movements slow and unsteady, his hands trembling as he reached for a glass of water.
But before he could even take a sip, another crash echoed through the darkness, drawing his attention like a beacon in the night. This time, there was something else — a faint and indistinct voice.
Noah’s heart pounded in his chest as he grappled with the reality of the situation. Was he still trapped in sometwisted nightmare, or was this the sobering light of reality breaking through the haze of his intoxicated mind?
Without hesitation, he reached for the gun slung over the back of the chair, his fingers closing around the familiar weight of the weapon. With each step he took down the corridor, the world seemed to tilt around him, like a funhouse gone awry, threatening to swallow him whole. But Noah pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to confront whatever darkness lurked in the shadows.
As Noah pushed open the door to his study, he was met with a darkness that seemed to swallow him whole. The howling wind blowing toward him carried a sense of foreboding, like gnarled hands reaching out from the shadows. Yet as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized that it wasn’t hands but tree limbs, wet and heavy with rain, that had shattered a window and invaded his sanctuary.
Just as he was about to turn away, Noah caught sight of a figure pushing through the broken window. Reacting on instinct, he flipped on the tactical light on his gun, only to be met by the sight of Callie emerging from the darkness.
“Whoa, don’t shoot!” she exclaimed, her hands raised in surrender.
“Callie? What the hell are you doing here?” Noah demanded.
“I’m checking in on you,” Callie replied, her tone firm. “The power is out across areas of town. Before that, everyone, barring your father, was trying to reach you. With the storm, Savannah figured you might not have made it home.”
“And by that, she thinks I was lying in a ditch from having drunk too much.”
“She wanted McKenzie to check in on you, but I was closer. I figured I would swing by. You didn’t respond to me knocking. The front and rear doors were locked, and the blinds were closed. I saw the tree branches had crashed through your window. People are just concerned.”
“Well, I’m fine. What time is it anyway?” Noah asked, his mind still reeling from the unexpected intrusion.
“Just after midnight,” Callie replied, her expression concerned.
“Shouldn’t you be home?” Noah questioned as he began to back down the corridor, Callie following closely behind.
“My shift ends in an hour,” she explained, her voice calm despite the tension.
Noah returned to the living room and replaced his firearm in its holster.
“McKenzie wants you to call him,” Callie informed him, her gaze lingering on the empty bottles of beer and a half-empty bottle of wine scattered on the floor. She looked like she was about to say something, so Noah cut her off by staying on topic.
“Have him speak to Porter. I’m not the only damn investigator the state has,” Noah replied tersely.
“You are for this region,” Callie reminded him gently. “Besides Porter.”
“Yeah, well, it hasn’t helped,” Noah muttered, his thoughts turning to the grim reality of their case. “They didn’t survive.”
There was a brief pause.
“You couldn’t have stopped the first. Who can? And as for the second, shit happens, you told me that yourself. Best intentions don’t always go to plan.”
“Tell that to the parents.”
Callie rested her hand on her duty belt, glancing at the bottles again. Noah would have brushed past her to clean up if he cared. But that was it; he didn’t. Right now, all of this felt like an invasion of his privacy. And maybe, that’s why she withheld judgment. It was his home. And the last time she’d spoken to him, her own advice was to do it within the confines of his property. By all accounts, he had.
She sighed. “Based on the evidence collected at the second crime scene, they think that it’s not over,” Callie continued, her voice serious.
“And what evidence would that be?” Noah inquired, his interest piqued despite himself.
“Mckenzie never told me. Just that he thinks there could be another abduction in the works,” Callie replied, her words heavy with implication.
“Has there been?" Noah asked, his heart sinking at the thought of another innocent life hanging in the balance.
