Chapter 73
Thursday afternoon
Hannah sat wrapped in a sheriff’s blanket on the back bumper of an ambulance while paramedics tried unsuccessfully to convince her to let them examine her.
“I’m fine,” she said for the third time.
Sabre stood several feet away beside JP, while flashing lights painted the Pacific Beach sidewalk red and blue. The crowd had mostly dispersed now.
In the alley entrance Rourke sat handcuffed in the back of a patrol unit.
Hannah had not looked in his direction once. For her, not looking meant trying not to care.
JP shifted, making a groaning sound, one hand pressed against his ribs where Rourke had caught him with the elbow.
“You need urgent care.”
“I need coffee.”
“Broken ribs aren’t fixed by coffee,” Sabre chided.
JP looked mildly offended by the suggestion. Sabre almost smiled, despite everything.
A paramedic approached Hannah again. “Miss Caldwell, we really should—”
“I said no.”
The paramedic backed away.
“I need to go to her,” Sabre said.
“Yes, you do.”
“But what if she doesn’t want me to? She felt betrayed.”
“All the more reason to talk to her,” JP said. “Remember, she waited for you for eight years, then she came and she actually talked to you. Rourke didn’t expect her to open up, or he never would’ve brought her.”
“I know.” Sabre walked slowly toward the ambulance.
When Hannah saw her, she stiffened.
Sabre stopped a few feet away. “Mind if I sit?”
A long pause. Then Hannah nodded.
Sabre sat on the edge of the bumper beside her. Ocean air drifted through the parking lot carrying distant sounds from the boardwalk.
Finally, Hannah whispered, “He’s hurt.”
“He’s going to be okay.”
“Are they going to arrest him?”
“I’m afraid so. He not only abducted you and Bay, he killed Todd.”
Hannah flinched. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. He told me Bay would go to prison if Todd talked.” Tears filled Hannah’s eyes again. “He said he was protecting us, but he also said Bay killed him, and I knew that was a lie.”
Sabre looked toward the patrol car holding Rourke.
“Did you ever want to leave?”
The question hung between them. Finally, Hannah said simply, “Yes.” Then after a long pause. “And no. I could never leave Bay.”
What a stressful childhood. Sabre felt her pain.
“I used to think if I left”—Hannah swallowed hard—“Bay would get hurt. Or he would.”
“Wouldn’t Bay have gone with you?”
“Bay didn’t like the real world. She said the people in it were awful and she didn’t want to ever live like that again.”
Sabre didn’t know what to say.
Hannah rubbed her eyes tiredly. “He wasn’t always bad. He wasn’t a monster.”
That was the same phrase Bay used about Rourke.
Sabre spoke gently. “You don’t have to figure all that out tonight.”
Hannah laughed weakly. “Feels like everybody else already has.”
Sabre looked toward the police activity surrounding the restaurant, the detectives, the uniforms, the crime scene tape.
“Hannah,” Sabre said softly, “nobody will force you to answer questions tonight. As your attorney, I won’t allow it. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Where will I go tonight?”
“They’ll take you to Polinsky, a home for minors. I’ll go with you and make sure you’re settled in. Then I’ll come back tomorrow. But first, I’d feel better if you would let them take you to a hospital to get checked out. I’ll go with you.”
A long silence followed.
Then Hannah said, “He told me you’d hate me when you found out.”
Confused, Sabre asked, “Hate you for what?”
“For not trying harder to get home.”
That one nearly broke Sabre, because Hannah still thought like the child who disappeared. She still believed survival needed apologizing for.
Sabre turned fully toward her now. “You were five. None of this is your fault.”
Tears spilled down Hannah’s face. Sabre wrapped her in her arms, then Hannah completely fell apart. But she held on tight.