“Do you have any money?” Chelsie asked. Despite the woman’s expensive clothing, whether she’d managed to leave with any personal belongings or cash was anybody’s guess.
“Not much. I still have my credit cards, though.”
“No. No paper trails.” Chelsie took the woman’s hand. “Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Implicitly.” Amanda spoke without hesitation.
“Good. Then we have to do things my way. Not only for your safety and your son’s, but also for the courts. Agreed?”
Amanda nodded. Griff rose and seated himself behind his desk, pulling out a legal pad and pen.
“We’ll need some information,” he said, refocusing on work.
After drawing a deep breath, Amanda nodded. “Okay.”
“I need your full name.”
The other woman looked towards Chelsie, who nodded in encouragement. “Amanda Davis...” She hesitated before continuing. “Amanda Davis Sutton.”
Chelsie’s vision blurred and she sucked in a deep breath. Coincidence, she told herself. A brief glance told her Griff was jotting down pertinent information.
“Your husband’s name?” Griff asked.
“Jeffrey Sutton.”
Chelsie glanced at Amanda, hoping she was wrong. The other woman met her gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Jeff Sutton. Nausea roiled in Chelsie’s stomach. The one slice of dried toast she’d managed to choke down for breakfast threatened to come back up. She swallowed over the lump in her throat and asked, “How long have you been married?”
“Four and a half years.”
Griff continued to take notes. He hadn’t yet appeared to notice anything amiss.
“Your husband’s occupation?” Chelsie asked. She forced the question from somewhere deep inside her.
Amanda choked on a laugh. “Attorney.”
“For what firm?” But she already knew. This was no coincidence. And judging by the woman’s penetrating stare, Amanda knew that, as well.
“Stevens and McLaughlin, downtown Boston.”
Chelsie stood. Her gaze darted from the bruises on Amanda’s arm to the rest of her well-dressed but well-covered body. The nausea threatened again. “Excuse me,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Her fault. And this time, a flesh-and-blood child’s welfare was at stake. Her fault. The litany in her brain refused to subside.
Chelsie ran, barely making it to the bathroom in time. Afterwards, she washed her face and drank a glass of water, but she couldn’t stop shaking or control the erratic beat of her heart. The cold sweat that had begun earlier now left her chilled.
With no choice, she dried her eyes and walked back into Griff’s office, ignoring his concerned expression.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced at Griff. “Have you gotten the rest of the information?”
He nodded.
“Good. Amanda,” Chelsie said gently, “have you given any thought to what comes next?”
“I’d like to look at the shelter, if you don’t mind.”