Chapter 7
We reached the abandoned church in five minutes.
It felt like five years.
The building stood between a boarded grocery store and an empty lot, its windows broken, its front doors chained loosely together.
Rain began to fall as we pulled up.
Of course it did.
Some nights feel addicted to storms.
Hank, Tess, Carla, and three riders went in first.
I followed because no one could have stopped me.
Inside, the church smelled like wet wood and dust.
Flashlights cut through the dark.
“Ava?” I called.
No answer.
Then I heard a sound behind the altar.
A small scrape.
Hank lifted his hand.
We moved slowly.
Ava sat behind a collapsed pew with one hand pressed to her side.
No blood.
Just pain.
A bruise darkened her cheek.
Her hair stuck to her face.
In her other hand, she clutched a plastic bag.
She looked up at me.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then she whispered, “You look like him.”
I dropped to my knees.
“And you look like me.”
She laughed and cried at the same time.
I reached for her, then stopped.
“Can I hug you?”
Her face crumpled.
She nodded.
I held my sister for the first time in my life.
She was real.
Warm.
Shaking.
Alive.
“I’m sorry,” she kept saying.
“No.”
“I should have found you.”
“No, Ava.”
“I knew your name.”
“I didn’t know yours.”
She cried harder.
Hank knelt beside us.
“Ava Grace.”
She looked at him.
“Dad said if I ever got lost, find the man with the iron halo.”
Hank touched the patch on his vest.
“Your dad always made things sound dramatic.”
Ava smiled through tears.
Then the church doors slammed open.
Martin stepped inside with two men behind him.
Carla drew her weapon.
“Stop.”
Martin lifted his hands.
“Relax. We’re just here for family.”
Ava recoiled.
I stood in front of her.
“You don’t have family here.”
Martin smiled.
“Brandon, your stepdad misses you.”
“Rick’s in jail.”
“For now.”
Hank stepped beside me.
“Walk away.”
Martin’s smile grew.
“You first, old man.”
No one moved.
Then Martin’s eyes shifted to the plastic bag in Ava’s hand.
“That belongs to us.”
Ava clutched it tighter.
“It belonged to my dad.”
Martin lunged.
Tess hit him low with a shoulder and drove him into a pew.
One of his men rushed Hank.
Hank sidestepped and tripped him into the aisle.
The third came toward me.
I did not think.
I moved.
Just like at the gas station.
Duck.
Step.
Push.
He crashed into the hymn board.
Numbers scattered across the floor.
Carla shouted for everyone to freeze.
This time, they listened.
Police arrived fast.
Martin cursed as they cuffed him.
Ava shook so hard I wrapped my jacket around her.
She handed the plastic bag to Hank.
Inside was a flash drive, a small notebook, and a folded photograph.
Dad with Ava.
Dad with me.
Two separate photos taped together.
On the back, he had written:
My children. If I cannot bring them together, let the truth do it.
I could not breathe.
Ava touched my sleeve.
“He came to see me once. Secretly. He said he was close to fixing everything.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“That was right before he disappeared.”
She nodded.
“He gave me the drive and said not to show anyone unless Hank came.”
Hank inserted the drive into Tess’s laptop at the clubhouse.
The files were worse than the first set.
Names of judges.
Sheriffs.
Contractors.
Private school owners.
Illegal adoption brokers.
Disaster relief fraud.
And a folder labeled RICK.
Inside was a video.
My stepfather standing in the warehouse with Sheriff Briggs.
Dad’s voice came from behind the camera.
“You sell children through emergency foster contracts and call it charity?”
Rick turned.
His face went white.
“Eli.”
The video shook as Dad ran.
Then a gunshot cracked.
The screen went black.
Ava covered her mouth.
I froze.
Hank whispered, “No.”
Carla took the laptop.
“That may prove he was shot before the fire.”
My chest felt hollow.
Dad had not vanished.
Not really.
He had been hunted.
Maybe killed.
Maybe hidden.
But Ava grabbed my wrist.
“There’s one more file.”
She opened it.
A video dated two days after the fire.
My father appeared on screen.
Alive.
Bruised.
Breathing hard.
“If Brandon sees this, I’m sorry, son. I had to disappear or they would take you and Ava both.”
My knees gave out.
Dad looked into the camera.
“I’m going to find the children they sold. Then I’m coming home.”
The video ended.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Dad had survived.
And somewhere, somehow, he might still be alive.
