Page 323 of Faking the Goal

The word scrapes against my throat.

I rub both hands over my face before forcing them into my hair. "The doctors said the swelling hasn't gotten any worse, which is supposed to be good, but she still hasn't regained consciousness."

Matthews gives a slow nod. He does not offer another empty assurance that she will wake up soon. I appreciate that more than I should. For three days, everyone has been telling me to stay hopeful, to be patient, to give her brain time to heal, as though patience is something I can manufacture while the woman I love lies motionless ten feet away from me.

"What about Charlie?" I ask. "Did you find anything?"

Matthews's expression changes.

It is slight—only a tightening around his mouth—but I see it.

"Actually..." he says. "That's why I'm here."

Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

"We finally caught a break."

My pulse immediately spikes.

"You found him?"

"Not Charlie."

The hope that had barely begun to bloom inside me dies just as quickly.

"But we found something that brings us a lot closer."

"What do you mean?"

"The last time we spoke, I told you we'd be gathering Miss Lewis' foster care records to identify which family she was placed with at the time of the incident." Detective Matthews shifts the folder in his hands. "Unfortunately, that turned out to be more complicated than we anticipated. Many of the older case files connected to her placements were destroyed in an archive fire years ago. The records that survived weren't in much better shape. Several had been misfiled during the county's transition to digital records, so our investigators had to reconstruct her foster history through multiple agencies."

He lets out a quiet breath.

"It was slow work. But once we pieced together her placement history, we were finally able to identify the foster family she was living with during the incident—the Maddox family."

My jaw tightens.

"Charlie's family."

He nods.

"That's how we learned his full name: Charlie Maddox. Once we had his identity, everything before his release became much easier to verify. We were able to obtain his juvenile court records."

Detective Matthews opens the folder. "Charlie was fifteen when he was adjudicated in juvenile court," he continues, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. "Because he was a minor and it was his first violent offense on record, the court kept him in the juvenile justice system rather than transferring him to adult court. He remained in state custody until he turned eighteen, then he was released."

"And after that?"

Matthews slowly shakes his head.

"Nothing."

I frown.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean his trail simply went cold. No arrests under the name Charlie Maddox. No driver's license renewals that we can tie to him. No employment history. No tax records. No recent addresses. Nothing."

"That's impossible."