Page 63 of Twice Missing
As the call ended, Noah stepped out of the car, a mix of determination and relief washing over him. "We got the green light," he announced to McKenzie.
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Oates' face contorted with barely contained rage as he saw Noah and McKenzie approaching. "Didn't I tell you?—"
"Call your chief," Noah interrupted, his voice steady. "We've got federal approval to assist in the investigation of Kayla Bravebird and Selena."
"Like hell you do," Oates spat from inside the trailer. "Keep them outside." He pulled out his phone, his fingers jabbing at the screen as he dialed his chief.
Noah took advantage of the moment, peering past the doorway into the trailer's interior. The scene was one of utter chaos. Bullet holes peppered the walls, furniture lay in tatters, and the acrid smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. On a nearby table, a collection of drug paraphernalia caught his eye — syringes, pipes, and small plastic bags scattered haphazardly.
Oates' voice rose and fell as he argued with his chief. Finally, he hung up, his jaw clenched so tight Noah couldalmost hear his teeth grinding. "Watch where you step. Don't mess up my crime scene and stay out of my way," he growled, brushing past Noah.
McKenzie turned to one of the tribal cops, a wry smile on his face. "Is he always that friendly?"
The officer chuckled. "You should see him when he hasn't had his coffee."
As Noah stepped into the trailer, the full extent of the damage hit him. "What a mess," he muttered.
McKenzie's attempt at humor fell flat. "Ah, looks like my place on Sunday morning. Barring a few beer cans. Nothing that a clean rag and a vacuum can't fix."
"Yeah, I'd like to see you using those," Noah retorted.
"I clean up," McKenzie protested weakly.
The interior of the trailer was cramped and oppressive. In the living area, a beat-up couch sagged against one wall, its stuffing spilling out from numerous tears. The table, once likely used for meals, now served as a makeshift drug lab, covered in powders, pills, and various instruments of addiction.
The kitchen was a disaster zone. Dirty dishes teetered precariously in the sink, while an overflowing garbage can spilled its contents onto the floor. The smell was overwhelming — a nauseating mix of rotting food, stale cigarette smoke, and something far more sinister.
Noah's eyes were drawn to an ashtray on a side table. Amid a forest of cigarette butts, something brown and mushy had been spat, flies buzzing around it in a frenzied dance. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to gag.
As they made their way down the narrow hallwaytowards the rear of the trailer, Noah passed the bathroom. One glance inside was enough to turn his stomach. The toilet bowl was filled with unflushed feces, and the overpowering stench of urine assaulted his nostrils.
"Well, I guess we know where the smell was coming from," McKenzie said, his voice muffled behind his hand.
In the rear bedroom, EMTs were tending to a woman perched on the edge of a bare mattress. The sight of her made Noah's heart clench. She wore nothing but underwear, her emaciated body a clear indication of prolonged neglect. Her skin hung loosely from her bones, and her hair was a tangled mess. A blanket draped over her shoulders did little to hide the angry red marks around her wrists and ankles — evidence of long-term restraint. Her eyes, ringed with bruises, stared vacantly ahead.
"What's the deal?" Noah asked the nearest officer, his voice low.
"It's Marcus' girlfriend," the officer replied, his tone a mix of disgust and pity. "He busted her up. She said he kept her chained up for days, feeding her very little."
"The reason?"
"She won't say."
Suddenly, a commotion at the door drew Noah's attention. Jacob Moon was being held back by an officer, his face a mask of anguish and fury. "You are not going in," the officer insisted.
"That's my sister!" Jacob shouted, struggling against the officer's grip.
"Like I said, no."
Jacob's next words were laced with bitterness. "That'sbecause he's Oates' cousin. Damn sham. Let me guess, he'll be out in twenty-four hours and back to doing what he always does."
Noah made a split-second decision. "Let him in," he called out, hoping that this show of trust might pay dividends later.
Jacob brushed past Noah, barely sparing him a glance as he rushed to his sister's side. He fell to his knees, gathering her in his arms as she broke down, her sobs echoing through the cramped space. "I tried," Jacob choked out. "I tried. He set my place on fire."
The EMTs gently but firmly separated the siblings, helping the woman onto a stretcher. As they carried her out, Jacob stayed close, his hand never leaving hers. Noah followed them out of the trailer, watching as they loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Just before the doors closed, Jacob's eyes met Noah's — a look of desperation, gratitude, and something else Noah couldn't quite place.
