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They stared at each other across the small space. Kelsey could see the pain she'd caused play across Eric's features. Maybe she should have just faded away and died. If not for Daniel, she might have.
Daniel had given her a reason to fight, to survive.
Would she ever get her son back now?
A knock sounded on the door. Eric crossed the room and opened it.
The man who'd been here before, the boss, she figured, stood outside. "We need her name."
"No!"
Both men turned to her, but she focused on Eric. "I know I owe you an explanation. I'll tell you everything." Almost everything. "But you can't put my name in any system. You can't." The very thought of it made her body tremble, her voice shake. "I'm begging you. Please."
The fury she'd seen on Eric's face faded. Now, she saw her own fear reflected. He turned to the other man. "She was giving Donny a phone number to call."
The man looked at her. Blew out a breath. Crossed the room and held out his hand. "Brady Thomas, Chief of Police."
She shook it, tried to smile. "The woman you need to call is Sally Bowman. She's a Miami detective. Just tell her Kelsey, okay? Tell her Kelsey from two-thousand-seven. She'll know. She should know." Kelsey prayed Detective Bowman would remember her and be able to help.
"I'm assuming the last name is Nolan," the chief said.
She glanced at Eric, then back at the chief. "Nobody knows that. Look, if she doesn't remember me, then...then I don't know what to do. I'm afraid if I give you a last name, somebody somewhere will type it into some system, and then..."
"What?" It was Eric who'd spoken. He walked closer, crossed his arms. "What do you think will happen then?"
"He'll find me."
"Who? Who'll find you?"
She ignored Eric, looked at the chief, who nodded.
"I'll make the call myself." He turned to Eric. "You'll stay with her?"
Of course Eric would stay. He'd question her further. He must've had a million questions.
"I need some air." Eric turned and walked out of the room.
The chief watched him go, then looked back at her with pity. She waited for him to say something stupid, something about how Eric would get over it, how it would all be okay. Instead, he stepped closer and gripped her arm. "I don't need to cuff you, do I?"
"No, sir."
"Okay. Come on."
She stood, stepped, and winced again. Her stupid ankle.
He shifted to stand on her left and put his hand under her upper arm. With his help, she managed to walk slowly beside him.
"You need medical attention?"
"It's just a sprain."
"There's a doctor a couple doors down. I'll see if he can take a look. Maybe it needs to be wrapped."
They crossed the big room with the desks. She could feel eyes on her, but she didn't dare look. The chief stopped at a door, waited for a low buzz, and then pushed it open. They stepped in, and the door slammed behind them.
It was a hallway. One side wall, the other, bars.
"You're our only visitor today." He pushed open the door to the first cell—looked like there were only two—and helped her to the bed on the far side, where she sat.
He stepped back, and she thought sure he'd leave her there. Instead, he crossed his arms and studied her. She waited for all the questions she couldn't answer. But all he said was, "You hungry?"
She nearly cried with relief. "Starved."
"We got a great cafe down the street. What sounds good?"
"I have no money."
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure you're the first prisoner who ever worried about paying. I'll get it if your...husband won't."
Husband. He'd tripped over the word, and she knew how he felt.
"I'm starved. I'll eat anything you bring me."
"I'll make that call now and get you some food. I'm sure Eric will..." But he didn't finish the statement.
"It's fine. I need time to process, too."
After the chief left, Kelsey scooted into the corner on the thin mattress. She pulled one knee up, careful of that stupid ankle, and hugged herself.
As prisons went, this wasn't too bad. She was alone. She was safe. She didn't have to fear the jiggling of keys, the sound of torture and pain and humiliation.
No. It was tenderness that would torture her here. She thought of Eric's touch, thought of all that she'd lost and all she'd still lose if she didn't figure a way out of this mess. And how much more it would hurt to leave this time.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn't think of Eric.
Daniel. What would he think of her now, his mother, locked in jail? In all his games of make-believe, he always caught the bad guys. Now, she was one of them.
She couldn't think of Daniel, either.
This cell didn't offer a lot of distractions. She'd been in worse prisons. Rooms without bars, without windows, with only locked doors and darkness. And sounds—crying girls, jiggling keys, and evil men.
As locked rooms went, this was one of the better ones she'd experienced. Except this one would signal the death of her dreams.
Hadn't she told herself, over and over, that as long as she didn't get arrested, she could make this work? Hadn't she told herself she could survive anything, anything but this?
How could she bring down Carlos from a jail cell? That was all assuming the police didn't type her name into some system that would tell Carlos she was here. Eric knew her name, married and maiden. If he shared it... Carlos would find her.
Fine.
She'd always known she'd die at his hands. But Carlos wouldn't kill her until he'd located Daniel.
Daniel. The only reason she was alive. The only thing she had to live for.
But Eric was here now. She had him, too. Her husband. Her life. Her soul.
If only she didn't have to leave him again.