CHAPTER 3 PUPPET MASTER

What if it's a trap?The thought had occurred to Cole many times during the drive that took him deeper and deeper into the seedy neighborhood. He had tried to kill the man all those years ago. What if Cole disappeared down here? No one would know where to look. Then again, even if they did—by the time they found him, he would be dead, anyway.

His head filled with heartbreaking imaginations of Gabe struggling to move forward without him. Cole had almost lost Gabe once before—and even now, Gabe fought for his life on the operating table—Cole understood the emptiness and horror that would accompany a life alone, without the love of one's life.

A reality you may be facing even if you survive the monster.

Gabe could die on the operating table.

And if he survived… would he remain married to the son of a serial killer?

Either way, I need to be there with him.The desire to turn around and speed back to the hospital almost halted Cole. How could he leave Gabe when he was fighting for his life?

Yet had he stayed… what would the monster do to their baby Abel? Maddy? Savannah? If Gabe came through the surgery and learned that Cole had sacrificed Abel and the kids for him… he would never forgive Cole.

Cole would never forgive himself.

It had to be this way. There were no other options. As it stood, the monster was in control. As long as he had their loved ones, Cole and everyone else were the puppets, and the monster—the puppet master, dictating their every move.

This was the monster's game; he made the rules and everyone else had to play by those rules… or lose everything precious to them.

Cole found the small pub where he was instructed to go and parked out front. The establishment was hardly lit and blended into the dark, shabby neighborhood. Cole sat for a long time in the dark car as the warmth of the heater slowly seeped away and the cold crept in. He listened to the tic of the engine as it steadily amplified in his head until his skull threatened to crack in two.

You have to go inside.

His body refused to move. Inside the pub… the monster of his childhood awaited. Even now, a part of him didn't believe the orchestrator of this nightmare was the same monster. Once he saw it face to face, though…

Cole gripped the steering wheel, struggling to summon the courage to get out of the car. That day in the woods while the monster lay bleeding out into the dead leaves… Cole had thought it was finally over, the monster dead. He hadn't imagined it would come back to life and hunt him down.

Gabe's phone buzzed. Cole checked the message: Tic tock.

"Shit." Cole rubbed his damp eyes and climbed out of the car. His feet were heavy as if he were wearing cement shoes as he walked to the pub entrance, hindering each step, and causing him to walk with a stilted gait. A chilled numbness came over him when he pushed through the entrance door. The pub was dimly lit, and shadows lurked in the far corners. A few shadowy, shady figures lingered at the bar and the small tables.

Cole passed by the bar and the tables and walked toward the rear of the pub and the highbacked booths. His steps faltered and froze when he neared the farthest booth. All he could see of the single occupant was the man's leg—denim pants and work boots.

Like he wore around the farm.

Like the ones he was wearing the morning he came home after taking Ezra home the night before…

It's Halloween—and Ezra's birthday!

Henry smiled and stretched; his eyes heavy with sleep. Pale morning light pressed weakly through his bedroom window. He and Ezra planned to spend the whole day together, and when it got dark, watch scary Halloween movies all night. Henry hadn't asked his dad yet if it was okay for Ezra to be there, but after last night, his dad seemed cool with the other boy—and with Henry being gay.

The house was freezing when Henry got up. His dad usually banked the fire at night so there were still live coals in the morning, but the fireplace was ice cold. Henry had fallen asleep waiting for his dad to return last night from taking Ezra home. He didn't wake up when he came in, whatever time that was. It wasn't that far to Ezra's house; he didn't know why it took his dad so long to get back.

Henry walked barefoot into the kitchen, the wood floors chilly beneath his feet. As he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, he glanced out the kitchen window. The driveway was empty; his dad's truck gone. Henry frowned and walked to the window. Had his dad even come home last night? If so, why was the fire out?

A weird feeling pinched his gut. Last night, he'd talked to Ezra about his dad's mood swings and if it was simply a result of his dad trying to cope with his mom's death. He had told Ezra how his dad seemed like a different person now and the creepy way he looked at him sometimes.

There's nothing wrong with dad. He's just grieving. He'll be okay and go back to his old self.

Henry couldn't wait for Ezra to come over. Spending time with Ezra made things better. He didn't think about his dad's behavior so much… or how much he missed his mom… when Ezra was there with him. Henry touched the braided leather bracelet Ezra had made for him the other day and smiled. They both promised never to take off the bracelets. Boyfriend bracelets.

Warmth seeped through Henry and his heart swelled with love for his best friend. He wished they could spend every minute of every day together. Adults would probably call their feelings for each other "puppy love" or say it was just a crush because they were too young to really be in love. But Henry loved Ezra—in a grownup way. It hurt his heart to think of Ezra ever going away.

He won't. He promised he would never leave you.

Henry wanted to pick up the phone and call Ezra right now, just to hear his voice, but it was too early. Ezra's foster parents might get mad if the phone woke them up. Henry didn't want to give them any reason to tell Ezra he couldn't come over today.

Returning to the counter, Henry filled his bowl with cereal and milk and sat at the table. He was so excited to spend all day and tonight with Ezra that he almost couldn't eat. Beneath the excitement, the weird feeling remained as a voice in the back of his mind questioning where his dad was and if he'd even come home last night.

Henry stiffened when he heard his dad's truck rumbling up the long dirt drive. He went to the window again and saw the headlights cutting through the early morning fog. The knot in his gut swelled and tightened. What if his dad was in another of his "bad" moods? Henry hurriedly washed his bowl and replaced it in the cupboard, then went to his bedroom, crawled beneath the covers, and waited.

The truck pulled up out front and shut off. The sound of the truck door. Footsteps on the porch. The front door opened and closed. More footsteps coming down the hall. They paused outside Henry's door. The boy held his breath, his heart hammering his ribs.

The footsteps moved away, and he heard his dad's bedroom door close.

Henry released his breath and relaxed a little, staring at the window. The heavy fog suffocated the morning light, preventing it from chasing the shadows from his bedroom. Henry remained in his room and dozed off again. He awoke to sounds in the kitchen.

Some fog had burned off, but the light outside felt dim and thick.

Henry crept out of his room and walked silently down the hall barefoot. Warmth drifted to him from the living room where the snap and pop of cedar filled the air. The smell of bacon invaded his nostrils. Henry paused at the kitchen doorway. His dad stood at the stove, moving bacon strips around in the frying pan. Despite his anxiety, Henry's stomach rumbled.

"Good morning," his dad said he saw Henry. "Hungry?"

The tiny bit of cereal he'd eaten earlier wasn't enough to combat his hunger. "Y-Yeah," he whispered and entered the kitchen slowly. "Can I… I help with anything?"

"I got it covered," the man said. "Have a seat." He gestured to the table.

Henry sat down and chewed his lower lip, his eyes darting repeatedly to his dad's face. "When did you get home?"

"A little while ago." He scooped bacon from the pan and onto a plate layered with paper towels. "I had some things to do after I dropped Ezra at home."

Henry didn't ask what things. "Did… did Ezra say anything about coming over today? Today is his birthday. We were going to spend it together if that's okay with you. And tonight, watch scary movies for Halloween."

His dad remained silent as he began cracking eggs into the bacon pan. His silence made Henry uneasy—what if he had changed his mind about him and Ezra?

"We can talk about that after breakfast," his dad mumbled.

What was there to talk about? Henry didn't argue. "Okay."

They ate fried eggs, bacon, and toast as they sat across from each other, neither speaking. Henry managed to clear his plate though his tension had returned.

"Go on and wash the dishes," his dad said when they were finished.

Henry nodded and washed the breakfast dishes, then cleaned the counter and stove and dumped the excess bacon grease into a jar. "Do you… do you want some more coffee?"

Daniel Pruett nodded. Henry refilled his cup.

"Sit down, son."

Henry returned to his chair.

His dad sniffed and rubbed his nose. "About Ezra…"

Swallowing hard, Henry stared at him, praying he wouldn't say they couldn't see each other anymore.

‘No one can keep us apart, Henry. We'll always find a way to be together, no matter what. I told you; I'll never leave you.'

Ezra's promise from last night eased some of Henry's worries. Even if his dad didn't want them to be friends… or boyfriends… they would still find a way to see each other.

Daniel released a long breath. "I wish I didn't have to say this, son, but…" he cleared his throat. "… Ezra is… gone."

Gone. Henry went numb. "Wh-What do you mean… gone?" His throat closed and tears sprang to his eyes as his pulse spiked, taking his breath.

"He, uh…" Daniel sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "There was a family emergency and his foster parents had to leave immediately. They took Ezra with them, of course."

"What…?" Henry's chin trembled. "No… no, Ezra wouldn't leave without telling me. He wouldn't."

"They were packed and ready to go when we got there last night," his dad said. "Ezra was upset that he couldn't tell you goodbye. He asked me to tell you for him."

"No…" Henry sobbed. "He can't be gone. He can't."

"I'm sorry, son," Daniel murmured. "I know how much he meant to you. But these things happen in life. Sometimes… the people we love are taken from us." His eyes misted. "I couldn't accept the truth when I received the call that your mom had died in an accident. I kept expecting her to walk through the front door." He ducked his head and rubbed his damp eyes. "We just have to pick ourselves up and keep on keeping on. I know it's hard, but—"

"But Ezra and his foster parents aren't gone for good… right?" Henry choked. "They'll come back after… won't they?"

Daniel looked at him with sympathy. "No, son," he whispered. "This was a permanent move. They're not coming back."

"But… but Ezra will call… or write me letters… right? He-He wouldn't just go away and never talk to me again." Henry choked on a sob as tears rolled down his face. "He loves me, dad… he told me. I… I love him, too. He wouldn't just leave." Henry broke down crying and ran from the kitchen and back to his bedroom where he fell on the bed, sobbing into his pillow.

It wasn't true—Ezra wasn't gone! He couldn't be! He wouldn't leave like that!

Henry shook beneath his sobs.

‘No one can keep us apart, Henry. We'll always find a way to be together, no matter what. I told you; I'll never leave you.'

Ezra wouldn't lie about that. He would run away from his foster parents and come back—he would.

Shuddered breaths trembled out of Henry, and he stared at the window, his vision blurry. One day, he would look, and Ezra would be there outside his window, his sweet grin on his handsome face, and maybe… maybe they would run away together.

He'll come back for you… he will. He promised he would never leave you and he won't break his promise.

Henry lay trembling on the bed, tears trickling onto the pillow. "He won't break his promise… he'll come back… he will."

Ezra.

Unlike his younger self on that fateful Halloween morning… Cole now understood that Ezra's and his foster parents' disappearance was due to foul play. There was no family emergency. Ezra's foster parents had no family, at least none they were close to. And Ezra would have never gone away without telling Henry.

Cole. You're not Henry anymore… just as Ezra isn't Ezra anymore.

His vision blurred; Daniel Pruett had never confessed to harming Ezra or his foster parents, but Cole didn't need a confession. The man was a monster, he'd had plans for his son, and Ezra stood in the way of those plans—so he removed the obstacle.

Cole wiped his eyes, the pain of his youth as raw as if his heart had been broken yesterday. The wound he'd believed had healed when he buried his past… remained open and bleeding. Cole quietly cleared his throat as his feet rooted to the pub floor, refusing to move forward.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" Daniel spoke low, his face hidden by the corner of the booth. "Have a seat and let's talk… father to son."