Can you find me ? - Part 26
TW : violence, guns, blood, angst
A/N : sorry it took so long guys I've been struggling to write something that wasn't complete horseshit 😩
The house emptied in pieces. One deputy disappeared through the front door carrying a rifle case, another followed with a radio pressed to his ear. Bowman and Reeves crossed the hallway toward the mudroom, already pulling on heavier coats. Every movement was quiet and efficient, no one rushed because panic would have made this worse. This calm felt like preparation for something everyone understood could end badly.
You stood near the dining table, the prepaid phone still resting in your palm, a direct line to Roy’s informant, two federal contacts, the evidence that could finally destroy Cole’s organization and the responsibility to make sure ten years of work survived if Roy did not. You curled your fingers around it.
Across the room, Roy fastened his coat, his gun disappeared beneath it, then another weapon at his back. He checked both without looking down, Gator watched every movement. Neither of them spoke, for once, there was nothing left to argue about, the plan had already been given and the orders were clear.
Roy moved toward the door, Bowman opened it and cold air swept immediately into the house, sharp enough to make you shiver, snow had begun falling again, not too heavy, just thin white flecks caught in the yellow porch light. Roy stepped outside and Gator followed him into the doorway. “Dad.” He stopped, but didn’t turn around fully, simply looked back over his shoulder.
Gator’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. You watched him search for words he had probably spent his entire life refusing to say. Roy waited patiently this time, no mockery. Finally, his son spoke. “Be careful.” The words were almost too quiet to hear, but something shifted in Roy’s face so quickly you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching. His eyes softened.
“Do your job.” Gator gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Yeah.” Roy turned away then stopped again. He stepped back toward his son and for one strange second, you thought he might say something else. Instead, he lifted one hand and placed it firmly against Gator’s shoulder, the gesture lasted no more than a second. No embrace, no reassurance, nothing that could be mistaken for tenderness if either man was forced to explain it later. Then Roy let go and walked toward his pickup without looking back.
Bowman and Reeves climbed into the cruiser behind him, engines started and headlights swept across the front of the house. You stood beside Gator and watched the vehicles pull away from the ranch. Roy’s pickup first, the cruiser following. Their red taillights grew smaller then blurred behind the falling snow before disappearing entirely beyond the curve of the road. The darkness closed behind them.
You kept staring long after there was nothing left to see as Gator remained beside you. His hands were buried inside his coat pockets, his jaw set too tightly. You thought about the first time you had met Roy Tillman, the way he had looked at you and how he decided what use you might have.
You had feared him then, you had hated him later, but now, standing in the open doorway while the cold crept through your clothes, you were afraid for him, afraid he might not come back. Gator reached past you and closed the door. “Time to go mama.”
Twenty minutes later, the ranch disappeared behind you. Gator drove while you sat in the passenger seat with the prepaid phone in one pocket and your own phone in the other. His cruiser smelled faintly of coffee, leather and the cold night air trapped inside his coat. The radio mounted between you crackled every few minutes with short updates, locations, times, nothing that told you what was actually happening.
Larsen followed almost half a mile behind in an unmarked vehicle, far enough away that his headlights occasionally disappeared behind the bends in the road. The snow thickened as you drove, it swept through the beams of the headlights in long streaks and the world outside narrowed to the road directly ahead. Occasionally, the silhouette of an abandoned barn rose from the darkness before being swallowed again. Gator drove faster than you liked, not recklessly, but just with the kind of rigid control that told you every part of him wanted to press the accelerator harder. You watched his hands, both on the steering wheel, knuckles pale. “You’re squeezing too hard.” He didn’t look at you.
“I’m driving.”
“You’re strangling the wheel.”
“It knows what it did.” Normally, the answer would have made you smile, but tonight, it didn’t. Gator glanced toward you, he seemed disappointed his joke hadn’t worked before his attention returned to the road. The radio crackled and Roy’s voice filled the cruiser.
“Team one, two miles out.” Gator immediately reached for the microphone.
“South team in position in six.”
“Copy.” The sheriff’s voice remained perfectly calm, no trace of fear or hesitation. The transmission ended and you looked at the radio.
“He sounds normal.”
“He always sounds normal.” He replied, without looking at you.
“Even when he isn’t ?” Gator’s mouth tightened.
“Especially then.” The road narrowed again as pavement gave way to uneven packed gravel. The cruiser vibrated beneath you as Gator slowed and turned down an even smaller county road. There were no streetlights nor houses here.
After another mile, he pulled onto the shoulder near an old drainage ditch and turned off the headlights. Darkness swallowed the cruiser instantly while the engine continued running, its low vibration travelled through the seat beneath you. Gator shut off the interior display lights one by one. The dashboard dimmed, the radio remained the only glow inside the vehicle, a small faint red dot, barely enough to illuminate anything.
You looked through the windshield, nothing, the road disappeared into blackness in both directions. The truck stop was somewhere north of you, several miles away. Close enough that Cole was no longer an abstract threat but far enough that you couldn’t see the building, Harold or Roy.
Larsen’s vehicle arrived a few minutes later and stopped farther down the road. Its lights flashed once then disappeared. Gator picked up the radio. “South position set.” A few seconds passed.
“Copy.” Roy, then Bowman’s voice.
“Visual on the main building. Parking lot’s mostly empty.” Reeves came next.
“Two vehicles on the west side.”
“Occupied ?” Roy asked.
“Can’t tell.”
“Any sign of the hostage ?”
“Negative.” The words drove straight through your chest, they couldn’t find Harold yet. Gator looked at you but you turned away. Roy’s voice returned.
“Any visual on Mercer ?”
“Negative.” Static filled the silence.
“Hold positions. Radio silence unless something moves.” The channel went quiet and Gator replaced the microphone, and then there was nothing.
You watched the clock on the dashboard, each number changed with unbearable precision. Gator sat still beside you, one hand remained on the wheel while the other rested against his thigh, close to the holster at his side. You looked toward the darkness outside, every shape seemed wrong. A fence post became a person, a tree became a vehicle and every gust of wind moving snow across the road looked like something approaching. You shifted in your seat.
“Don’t.” Gator said, making you frown.
“Don’t what ?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I’m sitting.” You replied, kind of bratty.
“You’re thinking about not sitting.” He said, and you looked back through the windshield.
“He’s only a few miles away. And so is Harold.”
“I know.”
“I could walk there faster than this.” You said, almost whispering.
“No, you couldn’t. That’s not the plan. ”
“It’s a bad plan.” You said, exhaling sharply as Gator lowered his voice.
“Katie.” You looked at him, the dim red light from the radio caught his face. Your anger faded and you looked at his hand which had begun to lightly tremble, just a faint movement in his fingers where they rested against his thigh. Gator noticed you looking and curled them into a fist.
“Are you scared for him ?” You asked while his eyes stayed on the road.
“No.” The answer came too fast but you didn’t challenge it, the silence did that for you. Several seconds passed, the engine hummed beneath you as snow fell softly against the windshield. Finally, Gator exhaled. “Yeah.” You turned toward him, his eyes remained fixed ahead. “I spent half my life wishing he’d disappear.” He looked at the radio. “Turns out I didn’t mean it.” Your chest knotted. You reached across the center console and placed your hand over his. His fingers loosened beneath yours, tuning his hand and interlaced them, squeezing tight. You didn’t speak again for now, it wasn’t necessary.
A faint light appeared in the distance. You lifted your head. At first, you thought it was Larsen repositioning, then the light grew brighter, headlights coming from the south. Gator’s hand left yours immediately and he straightened. The vehicle approached too slowly, not the speed of someone travelling an empty county road at night, it moved almost cautiously. The headlights swept across the fields then toward the cruiser. Gator reached for the radio. “Vehicle approaching south position.” His voice remained low and professional, this was cop Gator. The radio crackled softly but no answer from Roy.
The vehicle drew closer, a dark and large SUV, its engine barely audible through the closed windows. The license plate had been smeared with mud or snow so you couldn’t read it. Gator watched carefully. “Two occupants.” You leaned forward.
The SUV passed beneath the light from the moon. For only a second, the side became visible and you saw a small faded emblem near the rear panel. Your body reacted before your mind did. Your hand shot out and you caught Gator’s wrist before he could lift the radio again. He looked at you. “What ?”
You stared after the SUV as the symbol disappeared into darkness. But you had seen it, the shape, the worn edges, the same emblem from Roy’s photographs, the same company Cole had taken over years ago. The same logo that had followed you across maps, loading docks and old memories. “That’s one of his.” Gator turned toward the disappearing taillights.
“You’re sure ?”
“Yes.” No doubt was left in your mind as you watched the vehicle continue north toward the truck stop and toward Roy.
“It isn’t leaving.” Gator’s expression hardened. “It’s going in.” He raised the radio. “Dad.” Static again, nothing else. He tried again. “Roy, south position.” The SUV’s taillights disappeared around the bend and Gator’s grip tightened around the microphone. “We’ve got one of Mercer’s vehicles heading toward you.” The transmission disappeared into a burst of static while the both of you waited, but only the low hiss of the radio filled the cruiser. Gator pressed the button again.
“Dad.” Silence once again. “Roy !” Still nothing and the SUV's taillights had already vanished beyond the bend in the road toward the truck stop. Your stomach tightened.
“He should've answered.” Gator didn't reply, his eyes remained fixed on the darkness ahead and his thumb hovered over the radio. The speaker crackled, not Roy but Bowman, voice barely above a whisper.
“Sheriff… we've got movement.” The transmission dissolved beneath a rush of interference. You looked at Gator while he looked at the radio, neither of you breathed. Another burst of static, then Reeves, louder and more urgent.
“We've got multiple vehicles…” The sentence cut off abruptly and something loud echoed through the speaker. It wasn’t words but a sharp metallic crash, then voices impossible to understand. Someone shouted and another wave of static swallowed everything. Gator snatched the microphone.
“Roy ! Bowman ! Reeves, answer me !” Only the hiss returned, and it seemed to fill the entire vehicle. Your pulse hammered inside your ears.
“They're not answering…” You whispered as Gator kept staring at the radio, jaw flexed. A voice finally broke through, breathless, Reeves.
“Shots fired !” The words exploded from the speaker, then nothing, complete silence. At almost the same moment far away across the empty fields, a dull series of cracks rolled through the night muted by distance. You felt every muscle in your body lock and Gator didn't hesitate, his hand slammed the cruiser into gear and the engine roared.
“Gator.” He was already turning the wheel.
“Roy told you to stay, you’re leaving your position.”
“I know.” The cruiser accelerated and the narrow road disappeared beneath the headlights. Snow whipped violently across the windshield and you grabbed the dashboard as the vehicle bounced over uneven pavement.
“He said if anyone moved…”
“I heard him.”
“He told you not to…” you tried, but he cut you off again.
“Katie.” His voice wasn't angry, it was flat and empty. “Plan changed.” You looked toward him but his eyes never left the road. He wasn't ignoring Roy’s order, he had made a decision on his own, and once Gator Tillman made one, there was no changing it.
The radio remained silent, no voices, no updates. Then, bright headlights, appearing suddenly around the distant curve ahead. Gator eased off the accelerator as the vehicle was coming toward you fast, much faster than the first SUV. It bounced violently over the uneven road and its headlights swayed from one side to the other. Behind you, Larsen's unmarked vehicle immediately started its engine too.
The radio crackled, Larsen’s voice. “I've got visual.” Gator slowed as the SUV kept coming. The symbol on the side flashed beneath the headlights, the same faded transport company logo. Your heartbeat stumbled.
“It's another one.” Gator nodded once.
“I see it.” The distance between both vehicles disappeared rapidly, and the SUV suddenly drifted slightly toward the opposite shoulder just enough to look for an escape. Gator's expression hardened once again, understanding what was happening. “He's looking for a way around.” The cruiser rolled to a stop sideways across the narrow county road, blocking it completely.
The SUV braked hard as its headlights flooded the inside of the cruiser. You couldn't see properly through the glare, only silhouettes, movement, then stillness. Larsen's vehicle stopped several yards behind you, its own headlights joined Gator's, illuminating the falling snow. The road became strangely quiet, the kind of silence that hurt your ears after an adrenaline rush. Gator opened his door. “Stay here.” You grabbed his sleeve before he could step out.
“No.” He looked back. “You're not doing this alone.”
“Katie, I mean it. You stay in the fucking car.”
“No.” You replied, panic in your voice. His eyes softened for a second. “You promised.”
“I promised Roy.”
“So did I.” He gently pulled free, then stepped into the snow. His boots crunched softly against the frozen ground. Larsen emerged from behind his own vehicle at almost the same time. The two men exchanged one brief look, no words, they didn't need them. Every movement became deliberate, measured and careful. The SUV remained motionless, its headlights still shining directly at them.
Gator took another slow step forward, gun aimed directly at the car, then another. Nothing happened. You leaned forward in your seat, barely breathing, your fingers had tightened so hard around the prepaid phone that the plastic edge dug painfully into your palm. Another second passed, then the rear passenger door moved slowly, opening just a few inches.
You frowned, that wasn't what you'd expected. The gap widened and something shifted inside the darkness, a figure falling out. The body stumbled against the edge of the door before collapsing heavily onto the snowy road. The SUV lurched forward just enough to force Gator and Larsen to jump back. Then its tires spun violently against the slush and the engine screamed. The vehicle moved sharply, trying to force its way around the blocked cruiser.
Everything happened at once, the quiet road exploded into confusion and headlights swung wildly across the fields, voices shouted over one another but you barely heard them because your eyes had locked onto the man lying motionless in the snow. His hands were bound behind his back, his glasses were gone and his coat was torn open. For one horrifying minute, you thought he wasn't breathing. Then, his shoulders moved, a weak gasp and your heart stopped. “Harold.”
You were already moving before you realized you had opened the door. “Katie !” You barely heard Gator behind you, your entire world had narrowed to the man lying in the middle of the road.
“Harold !” You dropped to your knees beside him, his face was pale beneath the streaks of dirt and melting snow and a bruise darkened one side of his forehead. His wrists had been bound so tightly that angry red marks circled the skin beneath the rope. His breathing came in shallow, uneven pulls, but he was alive. Relief crashed into you so violently your hands began to shake. “Harold…” His eyelids fluttered.
“…Katie ?” His voice was barely audible and you felt tears sting your eyes.
“I'm here.” His expression changed to fear, real and genuine fear.
“No…” His head moved weakly. “No…”
“You're okay.” You said, reaching carefully for the knots around his wrists. “We've got you.”
“No…” His breathing quickened. “You… shouldn’t…” His words dissolved into a cough while behind you, engines roared somewhere farther down the road before fading into the darkness. You heard Gator shouting to Larsen, doors slamming but none of it seemed close. Everything important was here with Harold. Gator dropped beside you, a knife flashed briefly in his hand before he sliced through the restraints. Harold gasped as feeling slowly returned to his arms.
“You hurt anywhere old man ?” Gator asked and Harold blinked at him, confused, then shook his head weakly.
“I… I don't think…” His breathing hitched again. “They kept moving me.” You exchanged a quick glance with Gator.
“What do you mean ?” Harold looked between both of you.
“They never…They never stayed in one place.” Your stomach tightened.
“The truck stop…” Harold closed his eyes, nodding.
“I was there for a little while.” His voice cracked and he opened his eyes again. “They moved me.”
“When ?”
“I…” He struggled to remember. “I don't know, they blindfolded me.” Snow gathered slowly across the shoulders of his coat and you brushed it away without thinking.
“Did you see Cole ?” Harold's entire body stiffened.
“Yes.”
“When ?”
“He came to see me.” His breathing became uneven again. “He asked questions.”
“What questions ?”
“About you.” Your heart dropped. “He wanted to know whether you'd come.” You looked instinctively toward Gator. “He smiled and he said …” His voice trembled ans he swallowed hard. “…that the sheriff would never let you.” Gator slowly straightened, his face crumbling completely.
“What ?” Harold looked at him.
“He already knew you weren’t going to come.” You felt every muscle in your body tense. “He said…'Roy Tillman thinks he's protecting her.’” A chill far colder than the night itself crawled across your skin. “He laughed and said 'He's exactly where I wanted him.’” Neither you nor Gator spoke as your mind raced. Roy had refused to take you and Cole had expected it. He had built his entire plan around that certainty. Your eyes slowly lifted toward Gator.
“He knew.” He didn't answer because he had reached the same conclusion. The meeting had never really been about you. Larsen approached at a run.
“The driver's gone.” Gator looked up.
“What ?”
“They bailed further back, no visual.” He glanced toward the darkness beyond the road. “It's too dark to chase safely.” Gator cursed under his breath then looked back at Harold.
“Can you stand ?” Harold nodded weakly.
“I think…” Before he could finish, the prepaid phone vibrated violently inside your coat pocket. You froze, it had to be Roy. Your fingers fumbled as you pulled the phone free, and saw the unknown number calling. You answered immediately.
“Roy ?” Nothing, only heavy breathing. Then finally, his voice, almost drowned beneath distant shouting.
“Katie.” Relief hit you so hard your knees nearly gave out.
“You're okay.”
“No.” The single word stopped you cold. Behind him, you could hear chaos, voices, engines, someone shouting orders you couldn't make out.
“Roy, Harold's here.”
“I know.”
“You know ?”
“I saw them leave.” Your stomach turned.
“What ?”
“They wanted us to follow, we didn’t.” Another breath, pain slipped through his voice for the first time since you had met him. “He was never the objective.” You looked at Gator, he was already watching you, waiting and listening to every expression crossing your face.
“Roy…” Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “Where's Cole ?” Silence long enough to make your pulse pound inside your ears.
“He was never at the truck stop.” Everything inside you stopped, Roy’s next words were almost lost beneath the noise surrounding him, but you heard every single one. “Cole's at the ranch.” The line went dead as Gator stared at you.
The ranch, the investigation, ten years of evidence. Cole hadn't been trying to lure Roy away, he had been trying to empty the ranch. Gator was already moving before you found your voice. “Get Harold in the car.” He looked toward Larsen. “You're taking him.” Then at you. “You're coming with me.” His eyes burned with a determination you had never seen before.
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