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Kelsey woke in a dark room. She bolted straight up, rubbed her wrists, checked her ankles, and hobbled to the door, where just enough light seeped beneath to show her the way. It wasn't locked.
To be sure, she pulled it open, peeked into the hallway, and closed it again.
Those old rituals should have faded years before, but some habits lingered like scars.
Dizziness caused by the sudden movement had her returning to the bed. Events of the day filtered into her memory. The arrest, the jail cell, the evening spent with Eric.
Her husband.
The story she'd begun but never finished.
How many times had she gone over that first day, the day of her capture? She'd replayed it in her own mind, with detectives, even with a federal agent way back when. She'd gone over it enough that recalling it shouldn't have brought the grief any longer, but sharing the story with Eric, all those feelings had come back. The terror. The shame. The regret. Oh, the regret. Ten thousand things she should have done differently. How many lives had been destroyed because of her naivety, her arrogance, her stupidity?
When Eric had held her tonight, those feelings had come back as if she'd just woken up in that trunk.
She'd wept onto Eric's chest. Eventually, he'd lifted her, sat on the sofa, and held her on his lap like a child. And she'd felt safe for the first time in a decade. She must have, because she'd drifted off to sleep right there in his arms. She had a vague memory of him carrying her up the stairs, laying her in bed. He'd sat beside her, stroked her hair at the hairline. Those words he'd spoken—had she dreamed them?
"I love you, my sweet Kelsey."
And then he'd kissed her gently before he tucked the blankets around her and slipped out of the room.
She reached up, touched her lips, remembered that tender kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut against the painful prickling. Oh, what had she done? How could she hurt him again?
Her eyes adjusted to the dark enough that she could make out some shapes in the room. Beside her rested a clock, one of those old-fashioned analog types that wound up and ticked. It even had a bell on top and glow-in-the-dark numbers and hands. It was just after three a.m.
How much time since she'd first seen Eric that afternoon? Twelve hours? Not enough. Not nearly enough.
She stood, realized she was still wearing her clothes from the day before. Not the boots, though. She'd taken those off downstairs. He'd set them by the front door, and he'd draped her coat over the chair nearest there. Her backpack was in the room. She tiptoed to where he'd left it on top of the bureau and unzipped it. She found her toiletries then looked at the three closed doors. One went to the hallway. She opened the next one and found a closet. Then she opened the third.
A bathroom. Thank heavens.
When she'd finished cleaning up, she put her things in her backpack, zipped it up, and eased open the door to the hall.
She paused, stared at the other closed doors upstairs. Which room was his? She'd give anything to peek at him one last time. But Magic was probably in there. The dog would likely wake up if she opened the door. It wasn't worth the risk.
She had to leave. Despite the threat Chief Thomas had made, she had to leave. Maybe when she left, Eric and his boss would put her name in the system like they'd threatened. Maybe she'd be arrested the next town over. But she didn't think so. And even if the chief insisted, Eric would give her time. He knew something terrible had happened to her, and he knew she was running from someone. He'd give her time to get away before he reported her gone.
Either way, it wasn't like she had a choice. It was her life or her son's. Though it killed her to do it, she had to sacrifice her happiness in order to ensure Daniel's safety, his future. If Eric knew, he wouldn't blame her a bit. If only she could tell him now. But that would only make leaving harder.
And once she knew Daniel was safe, she'd find a way to bring Carlos down. And if she didn't get herself killed in the process, then maybe, maybe she could come back. Maybe they'd take her back. Maybe she could have a life here. All she knew for certain was that she couldn't keep running. She wouldn't spend her life on the run, and she sure as the sun rose in the east wasn't going to make Daniel live like that.
She'd sneak out. She'd take Eric's car to the house she'd broken into the other day and retrieve her tablet, wallet, and phone. From there, she'd go to Manchester. Leave his car at the airport. She could be there before five. Surely he'd sleep until then. From the airport, she'd take a taxi to the bus station. As soon as she was out of the state, she'd make the call that would ensure Daniel's protection. The call she'd intended to make on Tuesday.
She wouldn't return to Nutfield until she knew she could bring Carlos down. Until then, she had to get away. Let Daniel get settled.
She didn't have a choice.
She didn't.
She tiptoed down the stairs, careful on her sore ankle, and paused at the bottom near the front door, where he'd left her boots and coat. Except they weren't there. She looked on the other side of the door, then glanced in the room she'd assumed was a dining room. No table. Just a grand piano.
The sight of it, the memories it brought, had her eyes filling with tears.
She shook off the emotions. Her coat and boots weren't there, either. Where could he have left them?
She tiptoed back to the living room.
"Looking for these?"
She gasped, swiveled at the noise, put too much weight on her ankle, and winced.
A light flipped on, and when she adjusted to the brightness, she saw Eric on the sofa, holding her boots in one hand, her coat in the other.
"Figured you might try to escape."
She opened her mouth, tried to think of something to say. Closed it again.
He set her things on the floor beside him. He'd changed into sleep pants but wore the same T-shirt he'd put on earlier. His hair was messy like he'd been sleeping on it, and blankets and a pillow were on the sofa. Had she woken him, or had he ever closed his eyes? "Thing is," he said, "I can't let you go."
"I..." She swallowed. "You have to."
"I don't."
"Eric—"
"Don't."
"I don't want to go."
He crossed the room and took the backpack from her hand. He tossed it on the floor near the fireplace, where embers still glowed from the evening's fire. He turned back, lifted her before she could protest, and started for the stairs.
"Put me down."
"Nope."
She thought about struggling, but what would be the point? Hadn't she learned years before that her strength was no match against a man's? She could fight her hardest and she'd barely make a scratch.
He carried her and dumped her on the bed where she'd woken up.
"You can't force me to stay."
"You want to go back to jail?"
"You wouldn't dare."
He stepped back, crossed his arms, and glared at her. "You ruined my personal life a decade ago. Did you come back to ruin my career? Haven't done enough damage? Is that it?"
"What? No. I wouldn't—"
"I vouched for you. I promised Brady you'd stay in town. You're not going to make me break that promise."
"He wouldn't take it out on you. He'd..." She had no idea what his boss would do. Hadn't considered it for a moment.
"He's the chief, and he has a job. How would it look for him to have released you, a suspect in a felony, to a detective, only to have you disappear? It's more than that. He vouched for me, promoted me over guys who've been there longer, because he trusts me. Brady's a good guy, but he's by the book, and letting you go today was anything but by the book."
"I didn't..." She didn't know what to say. She hadn't even considered what this might do to Eric.
"Yeah. I know. I never crossed your mind."
"No, that's not it. It's just...I have to go."
"Why?"
She could tell him everything but that. She couldn't tell him about Daniel. Not now, not like this.
"Tell me."
"It's the middle of the night."
"Not too late for you to go for a nice long walk, though. Or maybe you weren't going to walk. Maybe you have a friend looking for you. Somebody planning to come pick you up?"
"I don't have anybody, Eric."
"Right. Ten years you've been gone. In all that time, you've been all alone."
"What are you accusing me of?"
"Accusing you?" His face turned bright red, and his hands balled into fists. "Accusing you?" The words were roared, and she shrunk back, hid her face, waited. Every man had a breaking point. Had she just found his?