Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
RIOS
Gabi got Priya down the hall of the clinic before the door swung fully shut behind us.
She didn’t rush her—didn’t crowd her, didn’t treat her like she was fragile glass—but she stayed close enough to catch her if her knees buckled. One hand hovered near Priya’s elbow; the other settled at the center of her back like a steadying point.
Gabi’s voice stayed low and calm, the same tone she used when she walked a kid through stitches or talked an old man down from panicking about chest pain. “Okay, we’re going to step into an exam room. You’re going to sit down. We’re going to get you some water, and we’ll go from there.”
Priya nodded. She didn’t look at me or Madden. She kept her eyes on the floor like it might tilt under her feet if she lifted her head. She moved carefully, testing each step.
I followed at a distance I didn’t like.
Gabi paused at an open doorway and guided Priya inside. Priya sat on the edge of the exam table with a wince, hands on either side like she was bracing for the world to shake again.
Gabi touched her shoulder once. “I’m going to close the door. Not to shut anyone out but to give you privacy. You tell me what you need, okay?”
Priya’s throat moved. “Okay.”
Gabi looked up at me over Priya’s shoulder. “I’ve got her.”
And this was why I’d called her to meet us here instead of taking Priya straight to the police station. Because I could hand Priya off to someone I trusted to take care of her.
Nodding, I stepped back and let the door shut. Only then did I finally take a full breath.
Not relief—not yet. I didn’t have that kind of luxury. But something loosened anyway. We’d gotten Priya out. We’d gotten her to the one person on this island I trusted to assess her without missing anything, without letting anyone bulldoze her, without letting pride or politics set the pace.
Priya had said he didn’t hurt her.
That mattered. It also didn’t mean shit.
People said all kinds of things while they were still in survival mode. Sometimes they didn’t know what counted as hurt until someone asked the right questions. Sometimes they didn’t want to say the words out loud because then they’d have to live in a world where those words were true.
Gabi would get to the truth. Gabi would know if there were bruises under clothes, injuries she couldn’t feel yet, signs that demanded a kit and documentation and a chain of custody that didn’t leave room for anyone to shrug later and say, No evidence.
Madden’s hand slipped into mine, and her head tipped to my shoulder. “We found her. You found her.”
I’d followed my gut, and this time it had paid off.
That still hadn’t quite sunk in. Maybe it wouldn’t until the son of a bitch who’d held her actually got brought in and put in a cage.
Maybe it would take longer than that. Some part of me still believed that missing women weren’t problems you actually got to solve.
They were a problem you lived with. One that became posters.
Candlelight vigils. Shrugs. Rumors. Blame. Because that was what Gwen had been.
But we’d found Priya before it was too late.
“We need to call the cops,” I muttered.
Madden’s fingers tightened around mine. “It can wait a few minutes. I’m calling Astrid first. Priya needs one of her people.”
I understood what she meant even though she didn’t say it outright.
Astrid wasn’t merely a friend. Astrid was safety. An adult Priya trusted. She would make the world feel less like a fluorescent hallway and more like something Priya could survive.
Madden released my hand and stepped a few feet away, phone already in her palm. She turned her body slightly like she was shielding the call from the rest of the world—not because she was hiding it, but because privacy was a habit she didn’t shed easily.
I watched her mouth move as she spoke. I couldn’t hear the words over the faint sounds from inside the exam room—drawers opening, paper crinkling, Gabi’s measured questions—but I could read the shape of it. Short. Controlled. Urgent.
Madden ended the call and came back. “She’s on her way.”
“Good.” I pulled my own phone out and dialed 911.
A voice answered, practiced and clipped. “Sutter’s Ferry 911, what is your emergency?”
“This is Rios Carrera. We’ve recovered Priya Shah. She’s at the clinic for medical evaluation. We have a suspect description and a location tied to where she was held.”
The line went quiet for half a beat—not silence, exactly, but that subtle shift when someone’s attention locks. “Repeat that?”
I repeated it. Slower. Clearer. I gave the clinic address, though there was only one on the island. I gave the basic facts I could without turning it into a story. I gave the location of the shack in the marsh, the condition of the door.
“I need an officer at the clinic,” I said. “And I need someone moving on that location now, in case he goes back.”
I waited for her to argue that I wasn’t an officer and couldn’t demand any such thing. But she only said, “Yes, sir. Units are en route.”
I ended the call and looked down the hall toward the front.
The clinic wasn’t open twenty-four hours. It didn’t stay unlocked at midnight. Whoever came next would have to knock. They’d have to wait to be let in.
Which meant we had minutes. Not hours. Minutes.
Madden reached up to cup my cheek. “Hey. You okay being here again so soon?”
So soon? I blinked at her. Fuck. I’d just been here last night, with her after the fire. Christ, that was barely over twenty-four hours ago.
I reached for her, tugging her into my space bubble. “When all this is over, how do you feel about the notion of a vacation away from all of humanity?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Do you have a line on such a Shangri-La?”
“I can find a way to make it happen. I’m very motivated for some peace and quiet.”
The other corner lifted. “Sounds like a plan.”
She didn’t say what we were both thinking—that this was a long way from over.
Someone pounded on the front door of the clinic. I instinctively dragged Madden behind me, even as Gabi stepped out of the exam room and made for the door.
Astrid burst inside, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes bright, cheeks already wet. She stopped short at the sight of Madden, as if her body couldn’t decide whether to run or collapse.
Madden crossed the distance in two strides, and Astrid met her halfway. They hugged hard. The kind of embrace that said I’ve been holding myself together by force of will, and now I don’t have to for ten seconds.
“She’s here?” Astrid whispered.
“She’s here,” Madden said into her hair. “She’s alive.”
Astrid made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. She pulled back and looked at Madden like she needed to confirm she was real. Her eyes snapped to me.
“Where is she?”
Gabi nodded toward the exam room. “She’s stable. You can see her in a minute.”
Astrid’s hands lifted, hovered, and dropped to her sides, because she didn’t know what to do with them. Fear did that. Relief did that.
Madden touched her elbow. “You’re not alone.”
Astrid nodded, swallowing hard. “Neither is she.”
Gabi opened the exam room door. “Come on.”
The room was small. Practical. Priya sat propped against the table now, a paper sheet crinkled under her thighs.
An IV line ran to her arm, taped neatly.
Her hands and ankles had been cleaned and wrapped in light bandages to protect raw skin and keep it from splitting again.
The ugly redness around her wrists stood out anyway, a thin line where restraints had bit in.
Priya’s eyes lifted the moment Astrid stepped in.
Something broke on her face. The expression tried to fold in on itself, overwhelmed.
“Astrid,” she rasped.
Astrid crossed the space and took her carefully, mindful of the IV, arms wrapping around her shoulders, cheek pressed to her hair. Priya clung back like she was anchoring herself to the only thing she trusted to stay.
“I’m here,” Astrid said, voice thick. “I’m right here.”
Priya’s breath hitched. “I thought—”
“I know,” Astrid cut in. “I know. Don’t—don’t do that to yourself. You’re here.”
Gabi stepped slightly to the side, letting them have the moment without turning away from her work.
“She’s dehydrated,” Gabi said to all of us, brisk and matter-of-fact. “Underfed. No acute injuries so far. I’m finishing the assessment, and then we’re going to get some calories into her. Nothing heavy. Something gentle.”
Astrid pulled back, cupped Priya’s face with one hand like she needed to confirm she was solid. “Did he—”
Gabi’s tone stayed neutral. “I’m evaluating that.”
“He didn’t.” Priya said it quick and fierce, like she needed Astrid to hear it. “He didn’t hurt me.”
Gabi didn’t contradict or reassure. She only made a note.
Good. Let the facts be facts.
Another knock hit the front door.
Harder this time.
Gabi’s jaw tightened. She walked out, and I followed, already knowing who it would be.
She opened the door, and Carson stepped in with Grant right behind him.
Carson took in the clinic in a single sweep, eyes moving fast—clocking Madden, clocking me. His face tightened with controlled frustration, the kind that didn’t flare into anger until it found a target. He chose my sister.
“Why wasn’t this brought directly to the station?” he demanded.
Gabi didn’t flinch. “Because she’s a patient.”
“She’s also a missing person—”
“And she came here first,” Gabi said, voice flat. “Because her medical condition comes first. That’s how this works.”
Carson’s attention snapped to me. “Carrera. What the hell are you doing here?”
Guess he didn’t get the memo that I’d been the one to call it in.
Before I could answer, Priya’s voice carried from the exam room doorway. “He found me.”
Carson turned. Reset his expression into something more official. Less personal. “Miss Shah are you up to answering a few questions?”
Gabi stepped around him and planted herself as a physical barrier. “Brief.”
Carson’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “Brief.”