Here, I wasn’t expected to work until I passed out or eat scraps before the pigs could get them, but I was expected to give them something.
Something I didn’t know how.
The door opened, depositing a visitor into my tiny prison. The officer with his greying moustache and skinny frame sighed wearily as if working through the night was about as fun for him as it was for me.
He scuttled into the spare chair on the opposite side of the table.
The manila folder in his hands slapped against the table, and he gave me an exasperated smile.
I didn’t buy it, but I did buy his exhaustion and the fact that he was old, tired, and wasn’t out for a witch hunt…just doing his job as an upholder of the law and protecting his town’s citizens.
“So…” He cleared his throat and splayed his hands flat on the table on either side of the folder. “I know we asked you before, but you have to give us something.”
I leaned back in the chair, stiff and slightly chilled from sitting there for so long. My lungs ached and the slight rattle in my chest pissed me off. “I’m not evading your questions. If I knew the answers, I would give them.”
He frowned. “So, you still don’t know where the Mclary’s farm is? You don’t know your mother’s name? You can’t prove anything of what you told me? That you were bought for labour and ran away when you were ten?”
“I have no evidence. I don’t even know my real last name. All I know is I didn’t cut my finger off—Willem Mclary did. I didn’t brand my hip—Willem Mclary did. The only crime I’m agreeing to is I did take their daughter, but not by choice. I was a kid running for his life. The last thing I wanted was a baby.”
I chuckled, remembering the juvenile hate I’d had for her when I’d first found her in my bag. “She’d squashed all my rations and drained me of all my strength. If I wasn’t so sure they’d have killed me, I would’ve gone back and dropped her off.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.”
He tapped the table with a fingernail. “But that was nineteen years ago. You could’ve dropped her off at any other point. To any police station in any town.”
“I tried.”
He sat up taller. “Ah, yes. In the town you didn’t know with a family you can’t name.”
“That’s right.”
“You left her for a couple of days?”
“Yes. Like I told you, I only went back because I saw her on TV. Some news reporter said she’d be put in foster care if no one claimed her. I might’ve hated her back then, but she didn’t deserve to be lost.”
My heart pinched a little with memories. Of her blistering joy when I’d gone back. Of my profound connection knowing I would never leave her again. That I would do anything it took to give her the life she deserved. That I was in love with her as deeply and as truly as anyone could love another—regardless of age.
Silence fell as the cop stared at me. His name was Martin Murray and he was a good man. Honest and hardworking and I wasn’t afraid of him. I wasn’t afraid of being coerced into confessing something I didn’t do. I was only afraid of the repercussions that I legitimately deserved for taking something that wasn’t mine.
I wasn’t trying to deny that fact.
I was merely trying to make them see that I’d never hurt Della. I’d done everything I could to raise her right. And just had to hope that that offered some leniency for my crime. And I also had to hope that Della forgave me if I ended up in jail and left her on her own.
At least she had the Wilsons again.
At least she was safe.
Is she thinking about me?
What sort of panic was she going through since I’d been marched from our bedroom and stuffed into the police cruiser?
I coughed, missing her so damn much.
Finally, Martin Murray laughed with a thread of frustration. “You know, I’ve seen you grow up. Not that often, but I walked the beat when you were busy picking up Cassie Wilson so she didn’t drive home drunk. Wherever you were, Della was by your side. It was stranger seeing you two apart rather than together. I know you treated her well. And I know in your mind, it wasn’t kidnapping. I’m not trying to throw you in jail, Mr. Wild. I’m only trying to solve this case.”
“You know my name is Ren. Use it.”
He nodded once. “You have to understand how difficult you’re making this investigation.”
“Not my intention.” Sitting still, I waited for the next question—yet another thing I couldn’t answer. But he sighed again and opened the file. “I have something to show you.”