"Ortega approached me," he begins.
"How did you know him?"
"I didn't. I'd never met the man. But I'd heard of him. Through, well, some of my other business connections."
I raise my brows at the word "business," but say nothing.
"He--well, he was connected. Intimidating. He--he had his fingers in a lot of things. We overlapped on the smuggling, and he got my name somehow. Said I was on his radar. I don't know why. He didn't say." He raises his hand as if he is going to reach for his face, but the motion is aborted by the cuff and chain that keep him attached to the table. Irritation flashes in his eyes, and I get the impression that he's lost his stride.
I wait.
Colin fidgets, then continues. "He said that he'd been watching me, and that led him to watching Eli. And Eli's bank account. He said that he learned about what your mother did, and Eli. About how they took you away from me." His voice cracks with emotion. "I was wrecked then--I tried not to show it to you, but losing you just about destroyed me. I was hurt. Angry. Everything. I lost my way, sweetheart." A fat tear spills from his eye. "Totally lost my way. And then Ortega said he'd had his eye on Eli as a mark--that he wanted to snatch Dallas and hold him for ransom. I was horrified--I was!--but then Ortega said that he wanted my help. That taking Dallas would be a way to punish Eli. To punish Lisa. To twist the knife in them the way they'd twisted it in me."
I'm fighting not to cry--I can't believe that he would even think about doing that, much less go through with it.
"I was angry. Hurt. I wanted to get back at her. At Eli. I wanted to punish them, and I shouldn't have. Oh, god, I shouldn't have." He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
"How did you help?" My words are hard. Cold.
Slowly, he raises his head. "I--I told him where Dallas went to school. I answered questions when he planned and hired the men. But that was all. I swear, that was all. And I needed the money--you remember how bad off I was--I needed the money and he said that just for that information I'd get half."
"They--they took me, too." I hate the way my voice cracks. I don't want to show emotion. I don't want him to see just how much he hurt me.
"I know." His tears come in earnest now, and he has to bend his head down almost to the table to wipe them. There is a box of tissues on the far side of the room, but I don't get up to bring them to him. "He told me afterward, and I flew into a rage. You weren't supposed to have been there, and I begged him to let you go. But he said it was a perk. More money. And when I told him he could have my share of Dallas's ransom if he just set you free, he laughed and told me I was a fool. Jane, Jane, sweetheart, you have to know I would never do that to you."
But I don't know that. I don't know anything anymore.
"Were you there? In the cell with us?"
"No! No, I went to London because Ortega told me I had to. He told me how to do it so that nobody would know. But I just stayed in a flat he'd rented for me."
"And the Woman?"
"Who?"
I hug myself, suddenly cold. "There was a woman. She--she was vile."
"No." He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "No, the whole team was made up of men. There wasn't--"
"Bullshit," I say as I push my chair back and stand. I yank out my phone and pull up the picture of me on the ground. I shove the picture in front of him, then point to my face, where the bruises still linger. "She did that to me. And she did worse--so much worse--when we were teens."
He's shaking his head. "No, no. There was no woman. There wasn't."
I turn around and head for the door.
"Jane, wait! Don't leave. Please don't leave me."
I round on him in sudden fury. "Then tell me the truth, goddammit. For once in your life just tell me the fucking truth!"
"I am! I swear! How can you believe I would do this? I don't understand what's happening. I don't know why you won't believe me. I've told you I was involved. I was an idiot--it was stupid and horrible and you're right to hate me. But, sweetheart, there's nothing left to tell."
"There was a woman," I insist. "Tell me about her or I walk out that door."
"Yes, yes, okay, yes, there was a woman. She was Ortega's girlfriend, and I know she brought your food, but I barely knew her. She's dead now. She's been dead for over a decade."
"Bullshit."
"It's true. It's true." Tears track a path down his face. "Jane, sweetheart, please. I love you. I love Dallas."