I could skip from the rush of euphoric anticipation, except that I have a sleepy two-year-old leaning into my shoulder, so I grip the handrail as I make my way down the winding stairs.
"How dare you come into my home and make such accusations! No, you do not have my permission to enter… Taylor!"
What's this?
"Mr. King, we do have a warrant. We don't want any trouble. Where is Mrs. King?"
"Edward?" I see the foyer from halfway down, the police, several officers, a female suit… and that detective Kane from this morning. God, that seems so long ago.
"Krissy, go back upstairs."
"Mrs. King, we need you to come with us."
"What?" I gasp, frozen to the spot, heart pounding.
"Krissy…"
"Mommy?" Ryan's alertness tears at me, his little eyes scanning the scene, taking everything in.
"Shh, Ryan, I have you. It's going to be okay. Edward?"
Two uniforms move to surround him, effectively cutting him off from me. My feet regain their purpose and find the landing in seconds.
"Krissy! No, this is illegal! I'll have all your jobs for this!"
"Mr. King, I have a warrant and my orders. Please stand aside."
"What's going on?" The female suit and one of the officers approach, their hands out, palms forward.
"Mrs. King, we need you to come with us," the female says, her voice calm and low, pacifying. "We just have some questions." Their hands come out to me, not touching me but guiding.
"Ask them here, now," my arms tighten protectively around my son.
"We have our orders, Mrs. King. Please."
"Edward!"
"Krissy! No, let go of me!"
Taylor has Edward's arms in a vise… what the hell? Taylor whispers to him, and then looks swiftly to me. "Go with them for now, Krissy. It'll be all right."
What?
Edward's expression is a picture of unbridled fury.
In that second of distraction, the female suit has torn Ryan from my arms, his shocked little face registering the chaos around him, and he lets out a wail. "No! Let me go!" The officer's hands are at my shoulders, steering me forward. "Why are you doing this? No! Edward!"
I'm ushered into a waiting van, the officer who'd led me sliding the door shut behind us. In the seat beside me, the female suit fastens a wailing Ryan into a car seat.
"Why are you doing this? Get away from my son!" I shout, tearfully, the weight of what just transpired caving in on me.
"Buckle up, Mrs. King," she withdraws, and my fingers fumble automatically with Ryan's buckles as the vehicle pulls forward. Her face is apologetic, but determined.
"Am I being arrested?" I demand.
"No, Krissy. I'm Agent Ballard from Social Services. We're going to take you someplace you'll be safe."
~oOo~
Four walls. No windows, but there's a recessed mirror. From all the detective shows I used to watch with Ray, I'd bet all of Edward's money that it's one-way glass. Edward… he's probably got every one of his police contacts on the phone, calling in every favor to get me out of here. That's assuming he has police contacts… but then, according to the cop shows, the rich guy always has a captain or sheriff in his back pocket, pulling their strings whenever he needs something done. That's it… we'll be out of here in no time.
I rock Ryan in my lap. He must sense my anxiety, for he hasn't stopped whimpering since we were summarily whisked away. "Shh, baby boy… Mommy has you. I won't let you go." The ceiling fluorescents are bright; one flickers, irritably asking for replacement. The couch where I sit is like burlap and makes the backs of my legs itch. The room appears to have been set to look comforting, but everything in it is cheap and uncomfortable, betraying the intended ambiance. A stack of children's books lie on the table next to me, and as much as it may soothe Ryan to be read to, I can't bring myself to reach for one… I won't give our captors the satisfaction. I've never distrusted the police so much.
I'm not really that afraid, if I'm honest with myself. The uniform that drove us here escorted us through the front door of the downtown headquarters, so I know I'm not going through some 'front' of a police station where they take me into the back room and it's really some Mafia ruse to extract a ransom. That Beckett, Bartlett, wait, that's not it… Ballard lady keeps coming in, asking if I need anything, telling me they're just sorting some paperwork and then someone will be in to talk to me. I say I want a phone call, she says soon. I demand legal representation, she says she'll find someone. At least I'll have that. Though it'll probably be some city-appointee who doesn't know his ass from his elbow. And all the while, that mirror stares right back at me, so I know they're watching. What did I do to deserve this?
Oh God… bile churns and rises up when it dawns on me. What if it's Edward? What if he's done something, something I don't know about? Anything could have happened in the last three years to lead up to this moment, and I'd have no freaking clue. But that's ridiculous… he's not like that. He swore to me that he isn't into anything illegal. He's a good person… isn't he? Oh, God…
The door clicks open, and there's a scuffling. I can't see from this angle, but I hear a comment that someone has five minutes… to do what? And then, the last person I expected to see appears in the doorway, and he shuts it behind him, hastily.
"I came as soon as I could. Are you both all right?"
"Carrick?" I stand, stiffly. "What's going on? No one will tell me anything!"
He strides across the room and takes us both into his arms. Despite his relative unfamiliarity to me, I'm far more than relieved to see him. Ryan practically throws himself at the older man, and Carrick cradles his head into his shoulder, cupping Ryan's exposed ear with his hand, and whispers into my ear. "I don't have much time, and I don't want them to hear. Certain accusations have been made. By whom, I'm not yet aware. I don't want you to worry. I'm working to have you released into my custody. Don't tell them anything. You speak only to me, and only to the police under my supervision. Nod if you understand."
I nod quickly. "Ryan's thirsty. I don't feel right accepting anything from them."
"I'll have something sent up. Sit tight." He peels a resistant Ryan from his chest and passes him back to me, plants a kiss on my forehead and strides out, as quickly as he came.
Ten minutes later, an officer delivers a grocery bag with juice boxes, bottled water, and animal crackers.
An hour and ten minutes later, another officer arrives to escort us downstairs, much to the unmistakable chagrin of one Agent Ballard. Carrick shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it around my shoulders, glaring at the desk staff as he guides me through a checkpoint and out the side door. And as I descend the steps with Ryan in my arms and my father-in-law's arm around my shoulders, standing next to the open backseat door to a shiny black SUV is none other than Jason Taylor.
"Mrs. King," he greets me, eyes downturned.
"Taylor?"
"Get in, my dear," Carrick instructs me. "I'll explain later." He nods toward Ryan. Of course; not for the ears of babes. The suspense is killing me.
"Bellevue please, Taylor."
"Yes, Sir."
None of us speaks. Carrick checks his phone a number of times, and if it silently rings, he doesn't answer it. The dull evening sun reflects gloomily off the chrome molding around the tinted windows, and I cast my eyes upon it, if only to loosen the death-grip this situation has on my heart. I can only guess what this is about, and I really, really don't want to think about it. I hope I'm wrong.
Ryan goes mostly willingly with Gretchen, Grace's housekeeper. It's a strange feeling, not having Grace here. Carrick guides me to what can only be his study; lots of old wood, rich colors and heavy fabrics. So different from Edward's tastes. He urges me to sit and pours two short glasses of amber liquid, and after handing me one, he sits, on the opposite end of the dark leather settee. Taylor settles across from me. He sets his phone on the table between us and pushes a button. "We're ready," he
says.
"Krissy?" Edward's disembodied voice comes through the speaker.
"Edward? Oh, thank goodness… what's going on?" I can't help but sound frantic.
"Everything's going to be okay, baby. I promise," he tells me. I hear such pain in his voice, and I can imagine the matching expression he wears. "Dad, what do we know?"
"Not enough, at this point," Carrick begins. "The best I've been able to gather so far, is that an anonymous letter was delivered to the authorities, detailing certain abuses carried out by you against Kristina. Your Detective Kane has opened an investigation into these allegations. He believes her two recent disappearances were deliberate attempts at escape."
"Yes, that's what I've been able to gather as well. What's the bad news?"
Carrick sighs. "At the moment, just the restraining order. But if convicted, you're looking at any number of charges… unlawful confinement, persistent abuse, endangerment of a minor… and those are the only ones I've been made aware of."
"Christ."
"Indeed. Edward, if there's anything to be told, I need to know now. From you and from Krissy."
"Fuck!" Edward's resounding expletive is followed by an enormous crash.
"Edward!" I cry out. "Are you all right? Edward!"
"I'm fine." His words are short, clipped. "Dad, I need to meet with you. First thing in the morning, here at the house. Just you. Taylor will remain with Krissy and Ryan. I may send Sawyer over as well."
"Agreed. I'll assemble my defense team."
"No, Dad… just you. And I want you on Krissy's side. I'll take care of my own representation."
"Edward…"
"I'll explain when I see you. Now please, I'd like a private word with my wife."
Carrick's lips are pressed into a flat line. Now I see where Edward gets that look from, genetics be damned. "Be quick."
Taylor clicks off the speaker and hands me his phone. It feels heavy and foreign in my hand. Both men rise and step outside, leaving me alone. I pull my knees up to my chin, and bring the phone to my ear.
"I'm here."
He sighs. "Oh Krissy… dear God… are you and Ryan all right? Did they hurt you?"
"No… I mean, yes, we're okay. Ryan was a little scared, but I think he picked up on my anxiety. He's with Gretchen right now."
"I'm so sorry, for all of this. It seems there's no end to the drama I've asked you to endure… but we're going to figure it out. You'll be home before you know it."
"But a restraining order? How far? They can't be serious!"
"One hundred feet, and yes, they're dead serious. I can see how the circumstances might have been construed, but Seattle's finest has done a bang-up job of investigating before taking action. Whoever is involved will be lucky to find employment anywhere in law enforcement when I'm done with them."
That leads me to another thought. "You let Taylor hold you back… at the house, when they took us…"
"Oh, baby…" the remorseful devastation in his voice brings tears to my eyes. "Jason was right to hold me back. I wanted to fight for you… God, did I ever. If it were anyone but law enforcement, I would have. I'd fight a war for you, my love. These things are a matter of logistics and protocol… they had a legitimate warrant to take you into protective custody. I had security follow you, so I knew you'd both be safe. If I'd given them reason to arrest me, I'd be no use in getting you out, and Dad would have more work on his hands. I feel badly enough taking him from Mom's side… oh, God… this will kill her."
"He wouldn't say anything to her, would he? At least, not right now. Not till she's better. Have you talked to her?"
"No." I hear him swallow. "I was supposed to bring Ryan by, but for obvious reasons…" he lapses into silence for a moment. "Would you go visit her for me? Tomorrow?"
"Of course. Hey, would your dad mind bringing my purse and a few things for Ryan tomorrow when he's there? I'll need to get a new phone if the police won't give mine back… "
"I'll send some things with him... but you must know, I'm actually breaking the law in speaking to you now. No one must know we had this conversation. I'm not permitted to contact you. It's part of the restraining order. And it's the reason you're using Taylor's phone."
I nod, realizing after that he can't hear my head rattle. "Edward, that letter your dad talked about… do you know who sent it?"
"I have my suspicions. I don't want you to worry, though. Dad and I will handle it. Just do as he says."
I swallow. "Do you think it has anything to do with all that… lifestyle stuff you told me about?"
He sighs again. "It might." He doesn't have to say that it would be easier if I remembered whatever I knew from before, but I get the impression.
"Are you going to tell your dad about it?"
There's a long pause. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with dread. "I think I may have to."
CHAPTER 19
~ EDWARD ~
They stole my family from me.
Came into my home, took my wife and son, ripped them from me, forcibly.
I don't think there's enough room in this world for my wrath.
John insisted upon staying a while. I'd forgotten he was coming, that I'd invited him. I had difficulty articulating an explanation, and when I was done… in the seven or so years I've known the man I don't think I've ever seen true anger as part of his expression. Now that I have, I feel ever more confident in his professional capacity; better to confide in someone who has felt some degree of the injustice I feel. And what I feel, if the words took form… they would drip red.
The scalding water coursing down my back does nothing to dull the resident, sustained fury; burning, stinging, searing my flesh, all the while refusing to distract in the slightest from the tearing strain on my heart. If Taylor hadn't held me back, I might be locked away, useless to bring my family home… and this detective fucker would have all the proof he needed of my capability to keep me there.
I didn't sleep last night. Couldn't. Not while the demons sharpen their talons, plotting the critical elements of their assault on my psyche. One of Flynn's early exercises was to remind myself that for every unfortunate situation I face, someone else is facing something far more unfortunate. But here, now, I don't see how this could get any worse, unless one of us was dying.
And that string of thought wrenches me from the distress over Krissy and Ryan to concern for my mother's current state. Dad says she's on the mend. Mia stays with her and reports in regularly… but God… if her prognosis was worse... no, I have to stay focused. I cannot afford to dwell on the things over which I have no control, though all I want to do is curl up inside my mom's warm embrace, for her to make this all go away. I'm such a selfish bastard.
And my dear, sweet Kristina… my innocent wife. So broadsided by my revelations since her life reset, but for the life of me, I don't see how anyone could have made this out to be a case of abuse. I don't ever, ever mishandle my wife. Never, not since… well, not since. I'd sooner have my limbs severed with a dull blade. How anyone could construe our few public appearances since the accident as abusive is beyond my comprehension. Who the fuck sent that letter?
If I had one guess, I'd likely be correct. And if it is who I think it is… in short, I won't allow my previous lifestyle choices to be held over my head as collateral, not ever again. It's too late to take appropriate legal action against said person, given the statute of limitations… but dear God, my stomach threatens to empty itself, its empty self, upon thought of revealing those many years to my father. He'll know what to do, I have no doubt… but I wonder if he'll hold any love in his heart for me when I'm done.
There must be a way to move past this, without irreparably damaging my family.
Gail lets him in promptly at seven o'clock. Gail… she's worried. What I'm barely holding back, she's pouring out in spades. Her eyes haven't been dry in fifteen hours, and she hasn't. shut. up. If I didn't value her so much… and if she weren't married to my head of security
… I'd fire her this minute. As it stands, I may send her to look after Krissy…
"Well this is a fine mess." Dad didn't sleep either, I gather.
"My study." I square my shoulders, all for show. I'm already cringing on the inside.
Dad pulls the door shut behind us. It's too early for a drink, and I need my wits about me, but I glance longingly to the crystal decanter and tumbler set Krissy and I received as a wedding gift, resting harmlessly on a silver tray atop a Tudor-Era cabinet. I shake off the desire to get piss-drunk, instead dropping into one of the leather chairs. Dad lowers himself across from me. He's thankfully chosen to overlook the upended display cabinet on the far wall. Gail cleared away the broken glass and salvageable sculptures during the night, but the wood framework lies splintered and broken across the floor. Krissy's smiling face looks down upon me from the canvas high on the same wall, unaffected by my loss of control. Baby, forgive me.
"How is Mom?" I ask.
"Improving. Mia stayed with her most of the night."
"Yes, she texted earlier. I'm sorry that this whole mess is keeping you from her." My fingers find my hair, pulling distractedly. "And my family?"
"Still sleeping, I hope," he responds. "Krissy called Kate last night. It was my idea, before you upset yourself. They went up to your old room and I haven't seen them since. Gretchen stayed over to look after everyone."
I nod. We're silent for a moment. I think my father realizes I have something to tell, because rather than fill the silence as he often does, he waits, patiently. I never imagined it would come to this. And so, I begin the story I thought would remain locked in the past for the rest of my days.
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