Seer: The Blessed Child

Desperate Times

"Okay. Let me get this straight," Wolf said, rubbing his temples. "Seer went to see Chad because he might be your brother?" 

"Might being the operative word," Kael interjected.

"Why didn't you mention this the other day?" Wolf said still miffed. "I don't know," Kael stammered. "I didn't want to believe it considering." 

"Point taken," Wolf said.

He stalked towards his Mustang. "I need to get a search warrant issued." 

"Don't you have to wait for twenty-four hours?" Kael asked. 

"Due to the severity of this case, no," Wolf replied.

Kael hurried over to the passenger side of the vehicle. 

"What are you doing?" Wolf said. "I'm going with you," Kael said grabbing the door handle.

Wolf shook his head. "No. You're not. This is non-negotiable." 

"I'm not staying here and twiddling my thumbs while my girlfriend is in danger," Kael said defensively at the officer's dismissive attitude. "I'm not staying on the sidelines this time. I'm going with you. This isn't up for debate." 

Wolf sighed. "Get in before I change my mind."

Waving a quick goodbye to his mother-the worry clear on her face—watching by the front door, Kael stepped inside the Mustang. The engine roared to life, and Wolf backed out of the driveway.

While speeding down the street, he placed an APB on his two-way radio for fellow officers to be on the lookout for a silver Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with tinted windows. A minute later, a response came.

"Found something, sir," a male voice said through the static. "There's a vehicle fitting that description parked near the lofts on West 25th." 

"I'm on it," Wolf said, pressing his foot on the accelerator. "Hang on, kid," he said.

Kael lurched forward. The seatbelt locking tightly across his chest was the only thing keeping him from colliding head first with the windshield. Pressing his imaginary brakes with his foot, Kael fumed inwardly. He's going to get us both killed.

They arrived in less than five minutes.

A forensics team was already processing the vehicle as Wolf pulled up alongside the curb. 

Kael released the iron grip he had on the armrest-sure that he left a permanent indentation—and exhaled the breath he had been holding for the duration of the ride.

"You sure you didn't miss your calling as a Nascar driver?"  

"What?" Wolf replied, not catching the joke. "Nevermind," Kael muttered.

A forensic officer greeted Wolf as he surveyed the vehicle. The car was in mint condition with brand new Firestone tires. It was evident that the owner took pride in maintaining the vehicle's upkeep.

"We found this in the glove compartment," the officer, wearing a pair of surgical gloves, said handing him a plastic evidence bag. It contained the vehicle registration under the name Chad Gael. His suspicions confirmed, Wolf found no consolation in it.

As he looked over the document, the officer continued, "We also found three dime-sized droplets of blood on the back seat." 

Wolf grimaced. He knew that blood was most likely from his goddaughter.

He wasn't the only one who was reeling. He looked over his shoulder at Kael standing by the Mustang; wondering if the teenager had overheard the conversation. The stricken look on the boy's face answered his question. The boy looked as though he would pass out.