Mama Bear Don’t Play

Tomas heard his mother before he saw her.

Her voice tore through the sheriff’s department—sharp, furious and unstoppable.

A door slammed.

A chair skidded across tile.

Someone swore.

Then everything went quiet.

Sheriff Rook entered the holding room with a red handprint burning across his cheek.

He wouldn’t look Tomas in the eye.

“Let’s go.”

Tomas lifted Red from the chair and held him tightly against his chest.

Rook opened the door.

The waiting room looked like a robbery in progress.

Kay stood in the center of it, calm as winter.

Eljen and Sagen stood behind her with short-barreled rifles held low. Black drum magazines curved beneath the weapons. Eljen covered the deputies. Sagen watched the entrance.

The front-desk telephone had been ripped from the wall.

The security monitors were dark.

Three deputies stood behind the counter with their hands visible.

One glanced toward the radio clipped to his shoulder.

Sagen looked at him.

The deputy’s hand dropped.

Sheriff Rook cleared his throat.

“Everyone stays calm.”

He wasn’t ordering Kay.

He was warning his own people.

Kay held up an iPad.

A woman sat duct-taped to a kitchen chair on the screen.

Mara Rook.

The sheriff’s wife looked unharmed, but fear had hollowed her face.

Berezina stood behind her, mostly outside the camera’s view.

“Say hello, Mara,” Kay said pleasantly.

Mara sniffled.

Rook pushed Tomas forward.

“Here’s your boy.”

Kay’s gaze swept across Tomas.

His face.

His hands.

His clothes.

She checked him for injuries before looking at anyone else.

Only then did she breathe.

“Come here.”

Tomas crossed the room.

Kay pulled him behind her.

“You’ve gone too far this time,” Rook said.

His voice tried to sound dangerous. His eyes remained fixed on the iPad.

“I can’t let this stand.”

Kay lowered the tablet.

“I’ve been standing outside your lines my entire life, Nathaniel.”

“This is my station.”

“And that’s your wife.”

Rook’s jaw tightened.

“You’re a marked woman.”

“I was born marked.”

“You keep walking this road and you’ll find yourself alone. When Kincaid comes for you, don’t expect me to lift a finger.”

Kay’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s Mr. Kincaid to you.”

She took Tomas by the collar and turned him toward the exit.

Eljen and Sagen backed away with them. The rifles remained low, but every deputy understood how quickly that could change.

Rook waited until Kay reached the glass doors.

“I’ll give you tonight.”

Kay didn’t slow.

“In the morning, I’m coming for the boy.”

She stopped.

Rook had found the one threat strong enough to turn her around.

“The state will sign the papers,” he continued. “Emergency psychiatric evaluation. Maybe longer if the doctors agree. All I have to do is deliver him.”

Tomas went cold.

“Like hell you will,” Kay said.

“I’ve already made the calls.”

Rook’s confidence returned one careful inch at a time.

“You can scare everyone in this building. You can slap me in front of my deputies. You can drag my wife into whatever war you started. But the state won’t care who you are.”

Kay stared at him.

For the first time since Tomas entered the room, she looked uncertain.

Not weak.

Afraid.

Rook saw it too.

He pressed harder.

“You brought rifles into a sheriff’s department to retrieve a boy who spent tonight talking about ghosts and throwing fire. You think that helps your case?”

Kay raised the iPad.

“Release her.”

Berezina’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“Ten-four.”

The restraints around Mara loosened.

Kay tossed the tablet toward Rook.

He reached for it.

Missed.

The screen shattered against the tile.

Kay led Tomas through the doors.

Behind them, Rook called out.

“Sunrise, Kay.”

She didn’t look back.

They moved quickly across the parking lot.

Not panicked.

Practiced.

Kay shoved Tomas into the passenger seat of her lifted truck. Eljen and Sagen entered the back with their rifles across their knees.

Kay started the engine.

The truck shot out of the lot, jumped the curb and tore across a strip of grass instead of using the exit.

Dirt sprayed behind them.

For thirty seconds, no one spoke.

Only the engine.

Only the road.

Then Kay slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

Once.

Twice.

“How many times have I told you?”

Tomas stared at Red in his lap.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Kay accelerated through an intersection as the light changed. A horn blared behind them.

“You know what Rook is saying about you?”

Tomas pressed Red closer.

Kay pointed toward him without looking away from the road.

“They think you’re crazy.”

The truck drifted toward the center line.

“They think something is broken inside you. They think you’re dangerous because they don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Tomas looked toward her.

Kay’s knuckles whitened around the wheel.

“I know what crazy looks like,” she said.

Her voice had changed.

“I lived with your father.”

Tomas stopped breathing.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You brought him up.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“What did he do?”

“This isn’t the time.”

“You never talk about him, and now you keep saying—”

“Because you keep giving me reasons to remember him!”

The words struck the inside of the truck.

Eljen looked toward the side window.

Sagen watched the road behind them.

Tomas shrank against the passenger door.

Kay’s face changed.

Regret appeared and vanished beneath the anger.

“I know what it looks like when something is wrong inside a man,” she said more quietly. “That doesn’t mean something is wrong inside you.”

“That isn’t what you said.”

“I’m scared.”

The admission silenced him.

Kay wiped angrily at one eye.

“They’re going to take you away from me.”

Eljen leaned forward between the seats.

“No, they aren’t.”

“Rook made the calls.”

“Then we make different calls.”

“The state doesn’t care who owes us favors.”

Sagen spoke from the back.

“We’ll be gone before anyone arrives.”

Kay kept her eyes on the road.

“I am not losing my boy to a padded room.”

Tomas looked down at Red.

The bookbag remained quiet.

The bottom seam was scorched. One strap rested around Tomas’s wrist, but the grip felt weaker than usual.

Kay drove faster.

Behind them, Eljen watched the side mirror for headlights.

Kay drove up the farm’s gravel driveway as if the tires were burning.

The porch lights were on.

Two of Tomas’s cousins sat along the railing with their boots raised, passing a spit cup between them. A radio crackled near the door.

Merrill Calder sat apart in a wide wooden chair, carving a strip of cedar with a hunting knife.

The knife stopped when Kay’s truck slid into the yard.

Kay stepped out before the engine died.

“Move.”

Sagen exited behind her, eyes sweeping the tree line.

Eljen headed toward the barn without waiting for instructions.

Marleen and Berezina stood near the porch. José emerged from the barn wiping his hands on a rag.

Kay pointed toward the loading dock.

“Sagen, secure the container.”

Sagen’s jaw tightened. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“What about the other cargo?”

“Leave it.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“Then let it walk.”

Sagen held her gaze for a moment.

Then he nodded and headed toward the rear buildings.

“Jefa?” José asked.

“Get the rig. Hook up the trailer. We move before dawn.”

José nodded and hurried toward the truck shed.

Kay faced the porch.

Merrill spat into the cup beside his chair and stood.

He had grown since Tomas last saw him.

Not taller.

Heavier.

Thick shoulders. Thick neck. A face already worn by chewing tobacco and bad decisions.

The hunting knife turned lazily between his fingers.

“Evening, Aunt Kay.”

“Where’s the rest of the family?”

“Barlow place.”

“Good.”

Kay nodded toward the two cousins on the railing.

“Send both of them back.”

The cousins lowered their boots.

Merrill raised an eyebrow. “Don’t need the help?”

“I need fewer people knowing where we’re going.”

The cousins slid from the railing and walked toward the trucks parked near the trees.

Kay entered the house and slammed the door.

Tomas climbed out more slowly.

Merrill’s attention settled on him.

Neither spoke for several seconds.

Then Merrill wiped the knife on his jeans.

“Well, hell. Look who’s still alive.”

“Still ugly,” Tomas said.

Merrill chuckled.

“Still soft.”

“Tomas!”

Kay had returned to the porch.

He looked toward her.

“I don’t have time for any more nonsense. You’ve already put us in enough danger.”

Her eyes dropped to Red.

“And I don’t have time for that.”

Tomas held the bookbag tighter.

“You know what Rook said tonight?”

Tomas nodded.

“They think you’re unstable.”

The word came out flat.

Not an accusation.

A problem that needed solving.

“Go upstairs and pack.”

“For where?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Are we coming back?”

“Essentials, Tomas.”

She leaned closer.

“And leave that thing here.”

Red’s strap tightened around Tomas’s wrist.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“You are if you’re coming with me.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand that every time that bag becomes part of a conversation, somebody decides my son needs psychiatric care.”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“It’s a bookbag.”

Tomas stared at her.

Kay pointed through the open door.

“Go.”

As Tomas passed Merrill, the larger boy leaned closer.

“Rough night?”

“Leave him alone,” Kay snapped. “Go help Sagen.”

Merrill slid the knife into his belt.

“Duty calls.”

Tomas entered the house and climbed the stairs.

Courtney sat on the edge of his bed.

She looked as if she belonged there.

For a second, Tomas could only stare.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“My mother is looking for you.”

“I know.”

“How did you get inside?”

Courtney shrugged. “People saw me.”

“And?”

“They assumed someone else knew why I was here.”

People saw what they expected to see.

On a farm filling with cousins, drivers and armed ranch hands, one teenage girl hadn’t looked important enough to question.

Tomas closed the door.

Courtney searched his face.

“You need to talk to me.”

“No.”

“The Collector is still out there.”

Tomas dropped a black duffel on the floor.

“I’m not doing this tonight.”

“The fire only scattered its physical form.”

He opened the closet and pulled down several shirts.

“The state wants to put me in a hospital because I talk to Red. My mother just kidnapped the sheriff’s wife. We’re abandoning the farm before sunrise.”

“And the Collector knows all of that.”

“Good for him.”

Tomas shoved clothes into the duffel.

Courtney stood.

“It has taken an interest in you.”

“Everyone has. It’s been a great day.”

“Tomas.”

He grabbed jeans from a drawer.

“The Collector marked Bryce. Sheriff Rook wants to lock me away. My mother thinks you work for some man named Kincaid. Twelve horses are dead.”

He zipped the duffel.

“Everything around me gets worse.”

“That isn’t because of you.”

“The Collector wants me.”

“It wants all three of us.”

“Exactly.”

Tomas lifted Red and placed him in Courtney’s arms.

She nearly dropped him.

Red’s straps caught around her wrists.

Recognition flickered through the movement.

“What are you doing?” Courtney asked.

“You’re his Keeper.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you.”

Red’s voice came quietly.

You promised.

Tomas looked at him.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

This counts.

“No. I’m leaving you with your Keeper.”

You are leaving.

Tomas’s throat tightened.

“You were together before me.”

“We were not together long enough,” Courtney said. “The stones still haven’t fully recognized me.”

“They’re starting to.”

“That isn’t the same.”

“Maybe they need time without me.”

Red’s straps tightened around Courtney’s arms.

We need you.

“The Collector needs all three of us together,” Tomas said. “So I’m taking one away.”

Courtney shook her head.

“That isn’t how this works.”

“You said separation makes us weaker.”

“It does.”

“Then I’m making us less useful.”

“You’re making yourself easier to take.”

Tomas slung the duffel over his shoulder.

“I’m not the one with power.”

“You don’t know what you are yet.”

“I know what everyone thinks I am.”

“Tomas—”

“Bryce almost died because of Red.”

“No. Bryce almost died because of Bryce. The Collector exploited it.”

“My mother is throwing away everything she built because of me.”

“Your mother is running from her own choices.”

Tomas stepped toward the door.

Courtney blocked him.

“If you leave now, you aren’t protecting us. You’re doing what the Collector wants.”

“The Collector wants us together.”

“It wants us isolated first. Frightened. Angry. Easier to manipulate.”

“Then don’t follow me.”

Red pulled against Courtney’s arms.

Tomas.

He looked back.

The bookbag’s scorched fabric hurt to see.

“I’m sorry.”

Take me with you.

“No.”

Moron.

Tomas almost smiled.

Almost.

“Stay with Courtney.”

He turned toward her.

“Where’s the car?”

Courtney’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“You drove a silver sedan to the farm before.”

“You aren’t taking it.”

“Where is it?”

“You’ve never driven alone on a highway.”

“I drive trucks. Tractors. ATVs.”

“That isn’t the same.”

“Where?”

Courtney didn’t answer.

Tomas reached for the doorknob.

“The service road,” she said. “Past the front pasture.”

He looked back.

“The ignition panel is already open,” she continued. “Two wires are stripped beneath the steering column. I disconnected them when I parked.”

“Which two?”

“You’ll see where the copper is exposed.”

Red twisted in her arms.

Do not tell him how to steal the car.

“He was going to try regardless,” Courtney said.

That does not make helping wise.

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t.”

Tomas opened the door.

Courtney called after him.

“Your mother ordered you to pack. Where do you think she’s taking you?”

“Away.”

“And you’re leaving because?”

“I’d rather choose the direction.”

He walked out.

Kay crossed the downstairs hallway as Tomas reached the bottom step.

She glanced at the duffel over his shoulder.

“Good. Put that in the truck, then help José hook up the trailer.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kay was already speaking into her phone before he reached the front door.

The farm had become organized chaos.

Engines started.

Men shouted across the yard.

Lights blazed around the loading dock. Sagen and Merrill worked near the container while José backed the rig into position.

No one watched Tomas.

He crossed the front pasture.

Passed the training barrels.

Slipped beneath the fence and followed the service road toward the trees.

The silver sedan waited behind the brush.

It was older than he remembered. Scratches covered one door. The steering column had been opened, leaving a bundle of wires exposed beneath it.

Tomas threw his duffel into the passenger seat.

He climbed behind the wheel and examined the wires.

Two had stripped ends.

He touched them together.

Nothing happened.

He tried again and held them longer.

The engine turned over.

Tomas sat listening to it idle.

Waiting for someone to shout.

For Red to call him a moron.

For Kay’s truck to tear down the service road.

No one came.

He shifted into drive.

The sedan rolled from the trees.

Tomas gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he reached the paved road.

The farm disappeared in the rearview mirror.

He didn’t look back again.

He pressed the accelerator.

For the first time all night, no one shouted at him.

No one chased him.

No one told him what to do.

Only the road.

Only the dark.

The Collector had not whispered in Tomas’s ear.

It had not started the car.

It had not killed the horses, humiliated him at school or sent the state after him.

It hadn’t moved a single piece.

It hadn’t needed to.

Tomas had moved himself.