CHAPTER 7 REVELATION

"Clint and Cochise are on their way," Dane said as he ended his call and stuffed his phone away. "They know about Gabe. Angel had to tell them."

Devlin nodded. The balloon of dread in his chest expanded moment by moment. Every minute that they just sat there and did nothing… who knew what was happening to Abel and the kids? He could only think about it in the abstract. If he allowed his mind to delve into possible details, it would crack. And the one person who possibly had the information to help them was MIA.

Where the fuck are you, Cole? Where did you go?

His brain remained baffled as to what could have pulled Cole away from his husband at such a dire time. He tried to imagine what could cause him to walk away if it were Abel in surgery. He came up with nothing.

"I'll go out to the E.R. waiting room and meet the men when they arrive," Dane said.

Devlin's phone hummed. He checked the message, then closed his eyes and released a slow exhale.

"What?" Dane held his breath. "Gabe?"

"He'll be out of surgery in about thirty minutes," Devlin said. "He's doing well."

"Thank God," Dane whispered and released a breath he seemed to have been holding for some time. "One less thing to stress about."

"Amen," Devlin mumbled. Despite this good news, the balloon of dread remained fully inflated behind his chest wall. It wouldn't deflate until Abel and the kids returned to them safe. "I'll check on him as soon as he's taken to a room."

Dane nodded. "Text me his room number. I want to see him as soon as he's settled in. And I know Clint and Cochise will, too." His face was troubled. "Where the fuck is Cole?" he whispered tightly. "He needs to be here when Gabe wakes up. If he isn't… I don't know what to tell Gabe."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Devlin said. "Hopefully, Cole will return soon."

If he returns at all.The frightening thought pumped air into the balloon, increasing the pressure in his chest. How could they know if he would come back?

"He wanted us to think he had Gabriel." Clint drove through the spacious hospital parking lot, searching for a spot near the E.R. entrance.

"Do you think it's someone we know?" Cochise asked. "Another fucker looking for revenge?"

Clint found a space and parked the car. "We can't rule it out."

"But you don't think that's it."

Yanking the keys from the ignition, Clint shook his head. "No, I don't. There's something different about this one. He didn't know me."

"He has to be the one who stabbed Gabriel," Cochise said. "And snagged his phone before he left him for dead."

"Sounds right."

The two gangsters left the car and walked into the E.R. waiting room. Dane sat tensely in one of the chairs and stood when he saw the men.

"Gabriel?" Clint inquired immediately.

"He's okay," Dane replied. "He'll be out of surgery any time."

"And Cole?"

Dane shook his head. "I don't know. He isn't back and he isn't answering his phone."

"Was Gabriel's phone on him when he was brought in?" Clint asked.

"I… I don't know." Dane frowned. "Devlin might know. He was here when Gabe arrived in the ambulance."

"Where is he?"

"He went to check on Gabe."

"We need to see him now," Clint said. "We need to know who the fuck has Gabriel's phone."

Dane looked uncertain. "Why? What about his phone?"

"Get Devlin down here."

"All right," Dane murmured and sent a message to the doctor.

Clint's adrenaline pumped furiously through his veins, and he wasn't able to stop and sit down. He paced the waiting room impatiently, replaying the phone conversation in his head, seeking a clue, any clue, that might lead them to the motherfucker. Was he the cause of the others' disappearances? If so… the cowboy feared for their lives. There was something ominous in the man's voice that unsettled Clint—like the creepy voice of a horror movie villain that cackled at his victims, taunting them from the dark shadows.

The cowboy had grown skilled at making others shake in their boots.

He wasn't used to being shaken.

He didn't like it—not one fucking bit.

"Clint." Devlin entered the E.R. waiting room, immediately overwhelmed by the presence of the gangsters.

"How is Gabriel?" the cowboy asked, his voice tense.

"He's all right. They're getting him settled into his room now."

Clint nodded and displayed a measure of relief. But the bulk of his tension held.

"When Gabe was brought in," Dane directed at Devlin. "Do you know if he had his phone on him?"

"I don't know. If so, it would be with his other belongings. Why?"

Dane deferred to Clint.

The cowboy exchanged an uneasy look with Cochise, which made Devlin uneasy. "Back at my house," Clint spoke low, a rough edge to his words, "I called Gabriel. Someone answered, but it wasn't him."

Devlin looked at Dane who was wholly focused on Clint.

"Who was it?" Dane stiffened with tension.

Clint shook his head. "I don't know." He relayed the basics of the conversation.

"Fuck," Devlin breathed as he sank into a new level of hell. Was the man on the other end of that phone call the same one who took Abel and the kids? His stomach flip-flopped and bile rose in the back of his throat.

"Is he the one who attacked Gabe?" Dane asked.

"That would be my guess," the cowboy muttered.

Devlin trembled. "And Abel… and Savannah and Maddy? They went missing around the same time."

Something flickered across the Egyptian's face, but he remained silent.

Devlin moved to a chair and sat down, his face sinking into his hands. "How can this be happening…" His voice trailed off as sudden images filled his head of Cole breaking down in the private waiting room and… his words; I don't know what to do… this can't be happening. Devlin stood up. "Cole."

The others faced him.

"Cole… he had a panic attack earlier," Devlin spoke with a sense of urgency. "He said he didn't know what to do and… and this can't be happening."

"What can't be happening?" Clint demanded.

"I don't know. I asked him and he wanted to tell me, but he was waiting for Dane to arrive."

"What did he say?" Clint turned on Dane.

"Nothing. He was gone when I got here."

"He went to the restroom," Devlin explained. "But never came back. The nurse at the desk saw him heading for the exit but couldn't say if he actually left the hospital. Dane and I searched for him but couldn't find him. He isn't here."

Clint rubbed his mouth and stared at the floor, his brow cinched. He looked up, eyes narrowed. "You said Cole found Gabriel in the alley."

Devlin nodded.

"Is it possible that Cole has Gabriel's phone?"

Dane looked confused. "What're you saying?"

"Cole's behavior is off. He's panicked and scared. I think he knows who this person is."

"I… do…"

The four men jerked around to see Cole standing inside the entrance doors, wavering on his feet, about to collapse. Soul-consuming despair masked his tear-streaked face. He seemed to have aged years since leaving the hospital.

"Cole." Dane rushed to him and grabbed his friend.

Cole wilted into his arms, clinging to Dane for dear life. "It's… my fault… all my… fault…" Cole confessed with wrenching anguish before he crumbled into a fit of heartbreaking sobs. "Please… help me…"

"I think we should call Detective… what's his name?" Horatio was barely holding it together. "The one who helped out Clint and Cochise with the kids from the orphanage."

It took Max a moment to dig his name from the soil of his taxed brain. "Detective Jordan."

"Yes." Horatio paced the kitchen, anxious and agitated. "We need someone to start looking for our son now—not in twenty-four fucking hours." He swallowed through a clenched throat. "And Abel and Savannah… and Cole and Gabe." His chest heaved as tears burned his eyes. "We need an official fucking search party. We need… we need cops out there looking for them, sending out APBs or whatever."

Max gripped his husband's tense shoulders, halting him. "Hey," he murmured. "We're going to find them. Clint and Cochise are on the job. They have a better chance of finding them than the cops. They're more motivated and can go through channels not available to the cops."

Shaking, Horatio said, "We should be out there looking, too."

"No," Max objected. "We need to stay here, like they told us to. We have no idea where to start looking and we need to be here in case Maddy calls or comes home. Our job right now is to stay out of the way… and protect the kids that are here with us."

Horatio nodded and leaned on Max. "I'm worried about Franny, too," he whispered. "We told her Maddy would be home when she woke up. What if he isn't? This kind of stress isn't good for her or the baby."

"We'll take it one step at a time," Max said. "We still don't know what exactly is going on."

"Clint seemed… uneasy," Horatio murmured. "Almost… scared. I don't like that. Those guys aren't easily frightened."

"Gabe is like their brother. They're just worried about him. You know how they are when it comes to the safety of family and friends."

"I know," Horatio whispered. "But this feels… different than just that. Why do you think he was asking about Gabe's phone? He said it wasn't important, but it seemed important."

Max sighed, the mental exhaustion of the situation getting to him. "I don't know what that was about."

The doorbell rang for the second time within the last half hour. The two men went rigid.

"Maybe it's Cole…?" Horatio posed doubtfully.

Max took a deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen. Angel emerged from the living room, a pensive look on his face.

"Who… who do you think it is?" His voice remained low, uncertain.

"I don't know," Max said. "Stay with the twins, I'll check it out."

Horatio followed him down the entry hall then paused a few feet back while Max approached the front door. "Who is it?"

"Deputy Roland," replied a male voice, slightly muffled by the door. "I'm looking for Cole Young."

Max glanced back at Horatio and frowned. He peered through the peephole. A man in his mid-to-late-thirties stood on the porch stoop wearing a deputy's uniform and a brown billed cap with Deputy Sheriff printed across the front in bold white lettering.

"It's imperative that I speak with Mr. Young," the deputy continued with an official tone. "Is he here?"

Max hesitated then opened the door. "Cole isn't here." He quickly sized up the deputy. The man was thick but not out of shape thick, rather packing some solid muscle. His face was clean-shaven and, though it was hard to tell with his cap on, appeared to be bald.

"Do you know where I might find him?" the deputy asked. "I checked his home address, but he wasn't there." He glanced past Max and nodded a brief greeting.

Max turned his head. Angel and the twins were watching around the living room doorframe. Max didn't know how much information to give out, not that he had much. Horatio had just suggested involving the law and… here was a lawman. Should they tell him everything?

"I'm not sure," Max murmured. "Maybe at the hospital. His husband was in an… accident earlier this evening."

"Mm-hm." The deputy nodded. "May I ask your relationship to Mr. Young?"

"Friend and employer." Max frowned. "Why? Is Cole in trouble for something?"

"No, sir," Deputy Roland assured. "But it is very important I speak with him."

"About what?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't divulge that information until I first speak with Mr. Young. It is… sensitive information."

Sensitive information?

"Thank you." The deputy reached up and slightly tipped the bill of his hat. "I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome," Max mumbled as the man returned to the street and climbed inside an unmarked car.

When Max closed the door and locked it, Angel came forward. "Clint and Cochise are at the hospital. Are you sure you should've sent a cop there?"

Max took out his cell. "I'll let them know he's coming."

I want the one who got away.

Cole couldn't stop shaking; the monster wanted Gabe. If he didn't get him… he would torture and butcher Abel and the kids. Before he took her life—he would rape Savannah. Maybe Abel and Maddy as well. His depravity and maliciousness knew no bounds. He intended to make Cole suffer and he would go to any lengths, cross any line, to inflict a depth of suffering that would destroy Cole's entire existence, and rip his world asunder.

"Cole." Devlin sat beside Cole and rested his hand on his back. "Where did you go? Why did you leave without telling us?"

Hanging his head lower, Cole pressed his face harder into his hands, tremors shuddering through him. "He… he wouldn't let me," Cole whispered on a choking sob.

"Who wouldn't?" Clint asked, coming closer and squatting before Cole. "Who is this man?"

Cole parted his hands and stared at the floor as tears dripped from his face to the carpet and absorbed into the fine fibers. "My… father." The barely audible words slipped out and hung heavy on the air, like a guillotine poised over Cole's neck. He slowly raised his head, feeling the horror on his own face. "The Mill Creek Mangler."