Page 62 of Cry, Little Dove

“God, no.”

Wolfer clicks his tongue. He tilts his head from side to side as if he’s weighing up the facts. “Thank you for your statement, Dr. Morrow, but I fear we’re going to have to keep you under arrest until we can verify your story with Miss Dellinger.”

Voices rise in the hallway, loud enough to hear through the door.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you can’t go in there!” a man yells.

“Yes I can and I will!” a woman shouts, but I recognize the voice. It’s Mandy. “You have no right to hold my brother! Our family lawyer is on his way here. He’ll make sure none of you inept, overzealous fools involved in this travesty ever work in law enforcement again!”

“Ma’am, please—”

The door to the interrogation room flies open, but it ain’t my sister standing in the frame. My pulse skips.

“Erica,” I rasp.

Her hair is tousled and her chest moves with quick breaths. Behind her, Mandy is poking a finger into a younger agent’s red face, who stammers incoherently. She does a fine job of keeping him out of our hair, leaving only Wolfer for us to deal with.

Agent Wolfer sighs as he looks at the younger man and drags a hand over his forehead. “I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t do their damn jobs. This is what I get for taking a rookie under my wing,” he mumbles.

Erica approaches the table. She hesitates as she notices the photograph, her brows drawing together. She stares at it for a long moment, unmoving, and when she glances up, my eyes meet hers.

Time stands still.

This is it.

She knows what’s on the line. She knows that the tables have turned.

For the first time since I took her, Erica holds all the cards.

The FBI is already suspicious. If she tells them about the kidnapping and the drugging, about the basement and my organ harvesting, about everything I’ve done to her, those fake medical files and her supposed mental illness won’t hold up.

The FBI will get a warrant within the hour, and I’ll be fuckin’ done. I’ll get locked up until they put me down like a rabid dog and I’ll never see her again.

That’s the worst part, knowing I’d never hear Erica moan my name again, would never hear her call me curly, would never see her smile again.

My heart pinches.

Fuck, I’m a total idiot. I’ve been so arrogant, so intent on keeping her that I didn’t stop to think if I’m actually right for her.

What if I can’t make her happy, after all? Erica deserves happiness. She deserves love and affection and everything good in this world. And if my downfall is what it takes… damn, then so be it.

I smile, hoping she can see the words in my eyes.

It’s okay. Do what you have to, little dove.

The seconds stretch. Calm comes over me like cool silk draping across my skin. Whatever happens, I’m fine with it. I’m not gonna fight it if that’s what my darlin’ wants.

Erica shakes her head like she’s snapping out of a trance. Frowning, she slaps her hand onto the picture and her eyes flick to Wolfer, blazing with rage. “What the hell is this?” she snarls.

“Ma’am, I’m in the middle of an interrogation, if you could please take a seat in the hallway until—”

“This is unacceptable. Why did I have to hear about Cain’s arrest from a security guard who just so happened to see you walking out together?”

Wolfer raises a hand. “Ma’am, please, Dr. Morrow came in for voluntary questioning and—”

“Couldn’t you have waited a few minutes to let me know?” Erica cuts in again. “I was worried sick when he disappeared. Until you tell me why you arrested my boyfriend like a common criminal, I’m not leaving.”

I swallow the giddy holler rising in my throat.Boyfriend. Erica just called me herboyfriend.

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