Her eyes widened. “It’s not.”
“I disagree.”
“No. I won’t make that deal.”
“Why not?”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s too ridiculous.”
“Really?”
She tilted her chin up. “Yes. You were here yesterday. Doesn’t take a genius to see that this place is a hot mess about to start on fire. No one would offer two grand a month in rent for a four-square-foot office. C’mon. I’m not an idiot.”
Oh, this girl. She was about a breath away from giving into this place. Maybe she would burn it to the ground. I could see the resentment in her eyes now, and that was good. Right where I wanted her.
“Regardless of your opinion”—I straightened, and she seemed relieved—“I still need an office. What would make this palatable to you?”
She hesitated for at least ten seconds. I let it ride, waiting without expectation or pressure. Only a rookie tried to fill the silence.
“Twenty-five bucks a day,” she said with a piercing annoyance that would have cowed a lesser man. “Unlimited use before noon. If you need it after that, another twenty-five dollars. You can pay by credit card weekly, at the beginning of the week.”
Quick deal-making meant she was fast on her feet, and her pride meant she wanted to earn her money, not just take it. Both admirable traits, but they were working against her in this environment.
With a smirk, I held out a hand. She accepted. I felt her touch all the way into my shoulders.
“You have a deal,” I said.
She held out her other hand as I let hers go with unexpected reluctance.
“Great. Now give me your credit card.”
5
Bethany
“What is going on, Bethany?”
Jada met me at the back door of her office with a perplexed expression. She wore a tasteful knee-length black skirt and a bright-purple peasant top. Around her neck hung a stethoscope and a mess of beads. Despite her professional presentation, her shoes were a pair of ballet flats, double-reinforced for extra protection from standing on her feet all day. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a bun at her neck.
I stepped out of my clunky, post-college car with a heavy sigh, a small purse hanging off my shoulder.
“You sounded odd on the phone when you called,” she continued. “I’ve been worried about you. Why did we have to wait until my staff was gone to meet? And who is this?”
“Ellie wouldn’t come unless you were the only one here.”
“Ellie?”
Lizbeth sat in the back seat, eyeing Jada warily. She’d donned one of my old caps and tied her hair back, hiding her beautiful fiery strands. She seemed entirely too small and vulnerable. Ellie lay under a blanket on the floor of the car. She’d refused to leave the attic until I promised her she could completely hide and Jada would be the only person we’d see.
“Something a bit unexpected came up,” I said. “Do you have an exam room we can sneak into? I’ll explain it all there.”
Jada’s curious expression dropped into concern as she gazed past me to Lizbeth, then back to me. Something seemed to click.
“Of course.” Jada gestured toward her office. “Just back here.”
Lizbeth’s door opened. She undid her seat belt, murmured something to Ellie, and stepped out. Ellie followed; blanket pulled over her.
Jada caught my eye over their heads. I sent her a grim expression back and shook my head. She quickly led us toward the building.
Once inside, Lizbeth let out a breath of relief. Ellie peeked out from under the blanket as Jada strode into the back, but kept her face tucked into the folds. A few seconds later, I stood next to Lizbeth in a small clinic room that smelled like mothballs and a cotton-scented candle. Cartoon animals painted on the wall eased the sterile atmosphere.
When Jada shut the door behind us, Ellie stiffened. She stood against the wall, back straight as an arrow.
Jada stayed on the other side of the room, arms at her side, a warm smile on her face. Lizbeth returned it half-heartedly, but Ellie didn’t emerge from her blanket. Although she didn’t make it obvious, Jada was watching them closely. Having someone else see them filled me with relief. They weren’t some apparition that dropped into my life so unexpectedly.
“I’m Jada, the doctor in this small town. It’s good to meet the two of you.”
Lizbeth mumbled something. Ellie stared at the wall.
Jada tilted her head to the side, nonplussed. To Lizbeth, she asked, “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“And how old are you?” she asked Ellie.
“Eleven,” Lizbeth said. “She doesn’t speak much.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.”
“Well,” Jada said, pulling in a deep breath as she studied Lizbeth’s fading bruise. “Let’s be honest with each other. You’re not here for a regular checkup, are you? Somebody hurt you.”
Jada cast Ellie a long glance, then turned back to Lizbeth. “Will you tell me what happened?” she asked gently.
Lizbeth recounted the same story she’d told me without wavering, still hesitating to throw full accountability on Jim. No doubt she had practiced retelling it on the long march here, deciding what to say ahead of time so each girl knew what to hide. That probably meant they were hiding something else. They’d always been close, but now they seemed to share a brain.
“Ellie might not let you see them,” Lizbeth said, “but her ribs are hurt. There are a few bruises, and she had a hard time breathing. Seems to be getting better, though. We had to walk really slow at first.”
The blanket remained immobile, even though Ellie was peeking out through a fold. But her eyes remained hidden.
“I’d like to take pictures of the injuries,” Jada said to Lizbeth and me, her tone firm but still gentle. “The documentation will be beneficial to you and your sister later.”
Lizbeth’s nostrils flared. She looked at me in a panic. “For what?” she asked.
Jada calmly said, “To protect you in court so you can leave that house forever and go to a better home. Do you want that?”
Lizbeth said nothing, appearing torn.
Ellie stirred.
Jada turned to a clipboard she’d been scrawling notes on. “I’ll make sure to write as much as I can in the reports so it would be clear to any jury what my findings are. The injuries speak for themselves.”
Lizbeth’s cheeks flared apple red. I put a hand on her shoulder. “Lizbeth, don’t you want to get away?” I asked softly. “Isn’t that why you came here?”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know. We just ran that night, and then we kept going. It . . . it seemed crazy to go back, then, with Ellie hurt. But to leave forever . . . “
Her words trailed away, leaving something unsaid.
Jada met my gaze. “Can I talk to you in the hall, Bethany?”
“Sure.”
She gave Lizbeth another warm, reassuring smile. “We’ll be right back.”
“They’re going to be physically fine. I can already tell that, if they truly traveled as far as you say they did. The scars that’ll last are probably more emotional, and they’ll run deep. Eventually, I’d like to see them in counseling, but for now, I’d focus on the most important thing: keeping them safe. That means one thing.” Jada met me eye to eye. “You’re going to have to make a decision.”