“I don’t understand you at all,” Darcy said, staring at her from across the table inside the Desparre PD’s claustrophobic interrogation room.
Tate and Peter had brought Alanna here, insisted that Darcy had to remain cuffed and then left them alone to talk. Of course, alone was a relative term. Alanna’s gaze darted to the camera mounted in the corner. Whatever was said in here, Peter and Tate were watching. She didn’t know who else from the department was with them.
Darcy looked even worse than she had at the cabin. Her shoulders were slumped inward and the lines pulling at the edges of her mouth and eyes seemed even more pronounced.
“I’m not sure I understand you, either,” Alanna said, clutching her hands tightly together underneath the table, trying to keep her tone even, keep the anger and blame out of her voice. Darcy knew her better than most people on the planet; it was unlikely she’d be fooled.
“You let me go at the cabin,” Darcy said, real confusion in her eyes. “You stood in front of me, gave me an opportunity to escape.”
Alanna tensed, resisted the urge to glance at the camera surely recording every word spoken in this room. That hadn’t been her reasoning at all, but she clamped her lips together, let Darcy continue. She’d rather fight an accomplice charge than risk angering Darcy, risk losing the chance to find out where Johnny had taken Elysia.
“So, why did you bring police in the first place? Why did you turn us in all those years ago? It’s like you’re two different people, Alanna.” A humorless smile flitted across her face, before morphing into a scowl. “I should have realized it sooner, I guess. You’re torn between two worlds. I saw it over the years when you were growing up, this far off look you’d get on your face, like you were dreaming about the family you’d been born to, instead of the one you were meant to be a part of. I thought you’d grown out of it before you wrote that note. After all those years, we thought we could trust you.”
This again? Alanna fought down her frustration. The guilt she’d seen in Darcy’s gaze, in her words, when Alanna had told her how her kidnapping had affected the Morgans, already seemed forgotten. Right now, seeing Darcy wasn’t about getting an apology. It wasn’t about getting closure on her past. The fact was, she’d probably never fully have it. That was something she needed to manage. And it was something she could manage, with her degree in psychology and her job helping others overcome worse trauma.
What she did need was for Darcy to understand the hurt she’d caused. She needed to understand the further hurt she’d cause if she let Elysia stay with Johnny. It was the only way Alanna had a shot at getting Darcy to choose Alanna’s happiness over that of the man she still called her son, the man who still called her Mom.
Alanna folded her arms in front of her on the table, leaned in.
Before she could speak, Darcy asked softly, “What happened to your ring?”
Alanna’s hands twitched, her wish to keep them hidden under the table too late. Darcy had given her a worn ruby ring when she was sixteen years old. It was a family heirloom Darcy had worn most of Alanna’s childhood. Alanna hadn’t taken it off for three years. It was the only thing she’d taken with her when she’d left Alaska besides the clothes she’d been wearing the day police had split apart the “family.”
The Morgans had all stared curiously at it when they didn’t think she would notice, but they waited for her open up to them at her own speed. She hadn’t wanted to hurt them, hadn’t wanted to admit that she missed Darcy and Julian, that the ring felt like her final connection to them. Instead she’d taken it off, placed it carefully at the bottom of a drawer and hadn’t put it on since.
“It’s safe,” Alanna said. “I still have it.” She slid her hands back under the table, tried to get the conversation back on track. “You thought you could trust me? Well, you said you loved me. You said you wanted to raise me to be strong and happy.”
The offense was as obvious on Darcy’s face as it was in her voice when she insisted, “I do. I did.”
Alanna leaned toward her again, closing the space between them, letting Darcy see the hurt and fear on her face. “Then why would you let Johnny take my niece?”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open into a small O. She shook her head slightly, her brow furrowed, but she didn’t quite meet Alanna’s gaze.
“You didn’t know?” Alanna demanded, not sure if the confusion on Darcy’s face was feigned or real. Hope started to replace the fear that talking to Darcy was too much of a long shot. If she really hadn’t known, she’d be more likely to help Elysia. But would she be able to? Would she know how to get through to Johnny?
“I—No. That wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t even know your niece was here. Heck, I didn’t even know you had a niece. It’s not like you talk to me anymore.” She scowled, then gave a quick, hard shake of her head. Her voice was sad and lost when she continued, “We just wanted what we had before. We weren’t trying to hurt you. We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.”
“But you know you did, right?” Alanna asked softly, willing Darcy to look at her, to face what she’d done. “Just like you knew what you’d done to all of our families. You tried not to think about it, tried to convince yourself the families you stole from would all be fine, that the kids you ripped away from them were happy. But deep down, you knew. You knew it was wrong.”
Tears filled Darcy’s eyes and she blinked rapidly, clearing them away. She started to reach her hand out, then looked at the cuffs keeping them locked together and faltered.
Alanna leaned farther across the table, closing her hand over the top of Darcy’s linked hands, hoping she wouldn’t fixate on the missing ring again. Not that many years ago, Darcy’s hands had been smooth and soft, deceivingly small for how strong she was. Those hands had picked Alanna up hundreds—thousands?—of times as a child. They’d sewn her clothes and helped her build a desk for her studies. They’d wiped away her tears and wrapped around her in loving hugs that Alanna still missed.
Now those same hands felt paper-thin, dry and rough. They looked older, too, as if she’d aged twenty years in prison instead of five.
The guilt that was never far beneath the surface bubbled up. Normally, Alanna reminded herself that she had no reason to feel guilty, that she’d done the right thing. This time, she let Darcy see all of her conflicted emotions, hoped it would help Darcy admit to some of her own.
“Please,” Alanna whispered. “Elysia is only five months old. Johnny doesn’t know how to take care of a baby that young. Not alone. And my sister deserves to get her child back. Kensie has been through enough.”
“I...” Darcy’s cheek twitched, her lips twisting downward. Her gaze skipped away from Alanna.
“Johnny still has a chance to make a normal life for himself.”
Was it true? Alanna didn’t really know. Not only because he’d certainly be facing charges for helping a prisoner escape and kidnapping three children, but also because everything that had happened in the past week proved he was more damaged by their upbringing than Alanna had ever realized.
Still, there was one thing she knew for sure. Turning himself in, handing Elysia over unharmed, was the only chance he had.
Darcy looked up at her, eyes narrowed and unreadable.
“Please help me find them,” Alanna begged, squeezing Darcy’s hands under hers.
Darcy ripped her hands away and turned her gaze to the ground, but not before Alanna saw the regret there. “You’re lying to me. I’m not going to help you relegate Johnny to the same life I’ve had, the life Julian had. I love my son.”
She looked up at Alanna once more, finality in the hardness of her eyes, the clenched line of her jaw. “Goodbye, Alanna.”
SHE’D FAILED.
Alanna stood outside the interrogation room, her whole body too heavy with dread to move. Even knowing that Peter and Tate had surely already seen everything over the camera feed, Alanna didn’t want to face them. More than that, she didn’t want to face Kensie and Colter, didn’t want to have to admit that their best lead to find Elysia was gone.
The finality in Darcy’s goodbye had brought tears to Alanna’s eyes. Just as quickly, she’d blinked them away, vowing never to shed another tear over Darcy or Julian Altier.
Yes, they’d raised her with love. But ultimately, everything they’d done had been selfish.
Five years ago, Alanna thought she’d taken a huge step in regaining control over her own life. But maybe she’d just been living in limbo, stuck between two worlds, between two families.
Now, finally, she was picking sides. But she’d done it much too late.
Taking a deep breath to control her anxiety, wishing she had Chance beside her, Alanna forced herself to move back toward the station’s bullpen, toward Kensie and Colter.
As soon as she rounded the corner, there they were, crowding around her, fear and hope in their eyes that quickly turned to disappointment when they saw Alanna’s face.
Kensie swallowed hard and clutched her husband’s hand. Then she reached for Alanna’s hand, too, always the big sister, even when Alanna didn’t deserve it. “We’ll find another way,” she croaked, but her voice was full of fear. “The police are already combing the woods around our cabin, looking for trails. They’ll find something.”
Chance, obviously sensing Alanna’s distress, pushed his way through the crowd until he was beside her, his big head nudging her arm. Rebel hurried over, too, slipping in between, so she could press up against Colter and Kensie at the same time.
Alanna stroked her dog’s fur, letting his calming presence relax her too-rapid heartbeat. She looked past her family to Peter and Tate, who were standing a few steps away.
Peter stared back at her with sympathy in his eyes, no obvious sign of the distrust he had to be feeling after all of the things Darcy had said about her. Beside him, Tate looked more pensive, but Alanna was surprised to see that he didn’t seem angry or distrustful, either.
“What Darcy said—”
Peter stepped closer, cutting her off. “You did your best. I’m sorry she let you down.”
She blinked back at him and for half a second, it felt like it was just the two of them in that station. She could see in his eyes that he understood, that he hadn’t ever believed she was trying to let Darcy go. A smile trembled on her lips, remembering his frustration in that moment back in the cabin and knowing he’d chosen to believe her.
It faded just as fast as reality rushed back in. Elysia was still missing. Without Darcy’s help, how would they find Johnny? Without Darcy’s help, how did Johnny expect to care for a newborn while he was on the run?
“He never planned to,” she realized aloud.
“What?” Kensie asked, leaning closer, probably recognizing the excitement in Alanna’s voice.
“Without Darcy, Johnny’s not trying to re-create a family anymore. He’s looking for revenge.”
Kensie and Colter shared a worried glance, maybe because they’d already decided Johnny had grabbed Elysia out of revenge. They were probably worried it meant Johnny saw Elysia as expendable.
It was more than simple revenge, though. Darcy was all highs and lows, lots of excitement followed by periods of depression. But she always acted with love, even when it was misguided. And until now, she’d stood by all of her “children,” no matter what. Johnny followed her lead when it came to his mood swings, but his emotions were always all or nothing. Love or hate. Once the pendulum swung, it was hard to send it back.
He’d treated her like his best friend growing up, the little sister he was so happy to have by his side no matter what. When she’d left that note, all that love had twisted into fury. There was no in-between for him.
If Johnny had given up on rebuilding a family, then his entire goal was revenge. It meant Tate had been right when he’d asked what use revenge was if she didn’t know it was Johnny. But with the kids rescued, of course they’d eventually figure out it was him. What Johnny needed her to know now was how to find him. What he needed was a reason to make her come. He’d found the reason. And she knew where to go.
Johnny had returned to where it had all started. He was at their cabin in Desparre.