Page 71 of Heartbreak Bay

“Honey, it’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “Connor didn’t do this. You know it.”

“I know,” she says, and meets my eyes for a second. “The problem is that someone else did. And they’re not going to stop.”

She says that like she’s rock-solid certain of it, and I let a couple of seconds tick by before I say, “MalusNavis?”

“He’s watching us,” she says, and I see the jolt that goes through her. It’s one of her worst fears, and who can blame her after all those years of being stalked by peopleIhelped set on her trail? “He’s watchingallof us. Sam ... I think I have to stop fighting it. I need to let him have me. I’m what he wants.”

“No!” It comes out of my mouth before I’ve even formed the word in my head. “Gwen, no. Not an option. Ever.”

“Am I supposed to give him Connor? Lanny? Vee?You?” She shakes her head, and then she’s hugging me tight. I hug her back. “I don’t see how to stop him any other way.”

“There’s got to be another way.” I smooth her hair, hold her, and try to put every bit of confidence into what I’m saying. “We’re going to find a way, honey. We will. But together.”

I feel her nod, but I don’t feel her relax. It worries me.

The two detectives come back toward us, and we break, but I keep hold of her hand. Her fingers feel cold, and I can feel her trembling.

“We’re ready to talk to Connor at the station,” the detective who questioned me says. “Which one of you wants to stay with your daughter?”

I’m about to volunteer that I will when Gwen catches me completely off guard and says, “I’ll stay with Lanny.” When I look at her, she says, “It’s better if you go with Connor. I’m not—you’re calmer right now. You’ll be better at it.”

“Okay,” I say, and I’m gentle with it. This is ... not what I expected. Gwen is usually so completely in this kind of fight, whether that’s right or not, and to see her step back is surprising. Progress, I hope. “I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”

“I know you will.” There are tears in her eyes, and I can see how this torments her. But she takes a deep breath and blinks them away and says, “Bring him home safe, Sam.”

The detective stops at the police cruiser and has a word with the uniformed officer standing there; he opens the door and gestures Connor out. The handcuffs are removed. I put my arm around him, and we follow the detective to his cruiser, and when I turn around to see Gwen, she’s standing with her arms around Lanny. It looks like they’re holding each other back this time.

Maybe that’s good for both of them. God, I hope we’re not making a massive mistake here. She’s put a staggering amount of trust in me.

Now I need to live up to that.

“This is complete bullshit.”

I say it bluntly to the detective who enters the room. We’ve been waiting only a few minutes, and I’m a little surprised; generally, the tactic is to keep people on edge, let the silence and time work on them. Not now. It makes me worry.

“Probably is,” the detective agrees blandly, sliding into the chair on the other side of the table. Connor’s no longer in handcuffs, and so far I’ve been able to keep myself from getting into some, so I suppose that’s a win. “For the recording, this is Detective Aaron Holland, speaking with Connor Proctor and his legal guardian Sam Cade. Mr.Cade, Mr.Proctor, I know this ain’t the best of times for you, and I apologize for that, and for keeping you waiting. Wanted to be absolutely sure I hadall the facts before I came in here. Now, Mr.Cade ... you’re Connor’s adoptive father, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And his mom is Gwen Proctor.”

“Yes. Where’s the warrant?”

“What warrant, Mr.Cade?”

“The arrest warrant. Do you have one?”

“Mr.Cade—”

“Because if you don’t, we’re not saying one damn thing more.”

“That’s totally understandable,” Holland agrees, with every sign of real sympathy. He fakes it well. “I can’t even imagine the stress of comin’ up like you did, Connor, with your family history. Plus moving, having people threatening your life all the time. And last year, getting abducted like that. Dealing with all that at such a tender age, that can’t be easy at all.”

Connor just shrugs slightly. He’s not meeting the detective’s steady gaze. He scratches a thumbnail on the smooth surface of the table like he’s found a spot.

“You know why you’re here?” Holland asks. His voice is profoundly gentle.

Connor says, “Because someone faked a message post.”

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