Page 324 of Faking the Goal

"It usually is." He nods once. "Which is why we believe he's likely been living under another identity for years. Unfortunately, we don't have any evidence proving that's the case."

"What about his family?" I ask, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. "Someone has to know where he is. What name he's using now."

Detective Matthews' expression turns sympathetic.

"Both of Charlie's parents passed away about ten years ago."

A knot forms in my stomach.

"So... there's no one?"

"We did manage to locate one living relative—his younger sister, Ashley Maddox." He shakes his head. "Unfortunately, she told us she hasn't heard from Charlie since shortly after he was released from juvenile custody."

I grit my teeth, frustration tightening every muscle in my body. Every lead Detective Matthews gives me seems to end the exact same way—with another dead end. Another person who hasn't seen Charlie in years. Another record that goes nowhere. Another piece of hope slipping through my fingers.

I don't care what name he's been hiding behind or how long he's spent covering his tracks. I just need him found.

Because when Taylor finally opens her eyes, I don't want the first thing she feels to be fear. She's suffered enough for ten lifetimes already. She's spent enough of her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to crawl out of the shadows again. I want this nightmare to end for her. I want her to wake up knowing Charlie Maddox can never hurt her again.

I'd tear apart every city in this goddamn country with my bare hands if that's what it took to give her that freedom.

Detective Matthews reaches back into the folder and extends a worn photograph toward me.

"This is all we have."

I take it, lowering my eyes to the grainy mugshot.

Before I can make out more than the outline of a teenage boy's face, a soft whimper cuts through the silence.

My head snaps toward the bed.

For a split second, I think I've imagined it. Three days of exhaustion have been playing cruel tricks on my mind. More than once, I've convinced myself I'd seen Taylor's fingers twitch or heard her call my name, only to realize it had been nothing more than wishful thinking.

Then I hear it again.

Another quiet whimper.

"...Trouble?"

The photograph slips forgotten from my hand as I cross the room in two long strides, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I swear it might crack them. Taylor's brow pinches ever so slightly, her head shifting weakly against the pillow.

"Taylor."

I press the nurse call button with one hand while the other immediately finds hers.

"Baby..." My voice breaks around the word. "Come on."

Her eyelashes flutter.

Once.

Twice.

They're trying.

God...

She's trying.