Under the Altswood Sky (The Altswood Saga #2)

Chapter 21 - Strike

"YOU PROMISED! YOU ALL PROMISED AND YOU FAILED!"

"I think we found him," Gabriel said, strained.

It wasn't Dad who appeared through the door first, but Zane's mother. He followed closely after her, trying to speak quietly, calmly, but Mrs. Dunmar wasn't having it.

As the officers tried to escort her outside, she collapsed then and there. She folded in on herself, a small woman who had been reduced smaller, curled into a ball and sobbing into the floorboards of the police station.

The screaming tourists, the red-faced officers: everyone went quiet. Not a single amateur reporter retrieved their camera phone to film the scene. Something like this—it was real. It wasn't an exciting case for the thrill-seekers to crack or a mysterious island phenomenon for people to blog about.

It was just a woman who had lost her son.

"Come on, Mrs. Dunmar," Tony, one of the officers I knew well, said. He had whispered it, but it was like a spell had been cast over the station, and in the quiet, every low, incoherent pleading noise Mrs. Dunmar made was audible.

It took two officers to convince Zane's mother to stand up and leave with them. The moment they disappeared through the front doors, the murmuring in the station began again, rocketing to a crescendo within seconds.

Dad was massaging his temples, still hovering near the back rooms.

I grabbed Gabriel's sleeve again, marching us in a beeline towards him.

"You know I am capable of following you around by myself," Gabriel whispered. "Wait—that sounded weird."

I didn't even bother with a sarcastic response, I only tightened my grip on his sleeve.

"Luca," Gabriel tried again, "your dad looks busy."

I sped up. "This is important too."

Before Dad had even seen us coming, I was in his face, shoving him back into the boardroom. As soon as I had pulled Gabriel in, I used my foot to slam the door shut.

Dad blinked at me. "Hello—"

I pointed at the chairs. There were a few files and half-filled forms on the table, telling me that Dad had been taking Mrs. Dunmar's statement.

"Sit."

Gabriel immediately plopped into a chair, frightened. Dad took longer to convince. He crossed his arms with a frown.

"I thought I was the parent."

"Sit!"

Warily and with a roll of his eyes, Dad sat.

I rested my palms on the table, leaning forward as I breathed out.

"This has gone on long enough."

"Where's Annabelle?" Dad asked, instead of addressing my statement.

I squinted at him. "She—she's sleeping. We left her with Jules."

"She didn't want to come with you?"

"Frankly, no, there's a serial killer running around," I replied. "Dad! Stop changing the subject."

Dad was trying to hold back a yawn—one of exhaustion, not of boredom.

"After that experience with Zane Dunmar's mother, I most definitely could not change this subject if I tried."

"Is she okay?" Gabriel asked quietly.

Dad shook his head. "Hardly."

I collapsed into a chair, unable to hold myself up anymore. How many more parents were going to lose their children in Altswood? How many more memorials would the town hall host? How many more dead bodies would the hospital cremate?