Page 62 of Shelter for Shay
“Just… be careful, man.”
“I always am.”
He hung up and turned to Thor, who was watching him carefully from the driver’s seat. “Change of plans.”
Thor nodded once. “Say the word.”
“I need to get to Lake George. Tonight.”
Moose pulled up Shay’s contact and hit call. It rang twice before she answered, background noise buzzing like laughter and music.
“Hey,” she said brightly, but he could hear the tension just beneath it. “We’re at Blue Moon. Becca’s already had two cosmos, so this could get interesting. I hope she doesn’t get too hammered. I have a package for her to give to Todd about my mom’s accounting stuff.”
Now that was odd. Moose swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “I hope I’m not going to ruin your girls’ night, but I’m coming up for the weekend.”
She paused, then quietly said, “Moose…”
“I know, Shay. I know you need me. That’s all I can say right now, but—I know.”
He heard her breath catch. A small exhale. Relief or fear—maybe both.
“I’ll see you… when you get here,” she whispered. “Be safe, okay?”
“I will,” he promised. “And Shay? Stick close to Becca. Stay in public. Ask Becca if she can stay with you until I get there.”
“I will,” she said, voice softer now. “Moose?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you called.”
He closed his eyes. “Me too.”
When he hung up, Thor gave him a long look. “You want to tell me what we’re walking into?”
Moose’s jaw clenched as he stared out at the road ahead. “Someone’s been playing God with Shay’s life for twenty-eight years. And I think they just threatened to do it again.”
Thor nodded grimly. “Then we’d better call the rest of the team and drive fast.”
Moose didn’t respond.
But he didn’t need to.
He’d be there by morning. And nothing—nothing—was going to stop him.
16
SHAY – EARLY SATURDAY MORNING
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck two.
Shay sat curled on the edge of the couch, her legs tucked under her, fingers wrapped tightly around a mug of untouched tea. The living room lights were low, casting soft gold against the tension hanging in the air.
Todd paced in front of the fireplace, one hand tugging at his hair, the other gripping his phone like it might shatter. Becca sat beside Shay, her hand firm on Shay’s knee. She hadn’t said much, but her presence was grounding, a quiet strength that held Shay’s frayed edges together.
“We should’ve sent this to Moose the second you got it,” Todd said for the third time, waving the plastic bag holding the letter. “Hell, we should’ve driven it to the damn FBI.”
Shay shook her head. “You read what it said. If we make a wrong move?—”
