“What if I give my baby to a couple, and they don’t want to talk about me?”

“You choose people who will, and you have a legal agreement granting you regular updates.”

“Why didn’t Josie choose people like that?”

“I don’t know.”

Again there was more silence and brooding from the young woman in the passenger seat. “I can really do that?”

“Yes. Like I’ve been trying to tell you, you have a lot more control than you realize.”

Some of the tension eased from Kat’s shoulders. “I can keep digging for information on Josie.”

“Let’s just worry about seeing the doctor now. Then I need to get you back to the shelter.”

“I hate seeing the doctor.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want. It’s what you and the baby need.”

Kat’s doctor’s visit confirmed she and the baby were doing well. She was thirty-four weeks into her term and on course to deliver at the end of July. “An August baby,” Kat had quipped. “Probably going to be the hottest day of the year.”

They drove in silence back across town to the shelter. When Kat looked at the brick building, she shook her head. “I hate the shelter.”

Faith got out of the car and walked with Kat inside. She hugged Kat until the girl’s tense muscles relaxed a fraction. “It’s going to be okay.”

It wasn’t the first time she had regretted leaving the kid here. She had considered speaking to social services about fostering Kat but found she was just as afraid of committing as the girl was. No commitment had always worked for her. Hell, it was the cornerstone of her life, as well as her relationship with Hayden. But lately, instead of enjoying her freedom, she felt increasingly constrained and isolated.

Kat pulled away. “How do you know it’s going to be okay?”

An odd sense of worry and tension swept through her, but she still smiled. “It has to be.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Time Unknown. Maybe June.

Paige flexed her fingers in the darkened room, running a trembling hand over the slick pages of the magazine she’d written in. Writing without light, she doubted her words were intelligible, but it gave her comfort to write. The baby weighed heavily, and she could barely sleep at night now that all she had was the thin mattress lying on the concrete floor. An aching tooth was not helping, and since he had left, the baby had been constantly kicking, as if it knew its time was coming and it was scared shitless, too.

The manacle on her leg had rubbed her skin raw, and she could see the wound had begun to bleed.

When she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, she sat up and quickly tore out the pages with her handwriting, folded and tucked them in her bra. She shoved the magazine and pen under the mattress, her heart beating so fast she could barely think.

The lights clicked on, and she winced at the sudden stimuli onslaught. She blinked several times until her eyes slowly adjusted.

She looked up at him. He was frowning, something he’d been doing a lot lately. There had been a time when he had smiled at her. That smile, though welcome, was complete bullshit.

“Came to check on you, girl,” he said.

He came every few days and so far had never returned this early. She drew her feet up as far as the chain would allow. Did he figure out he’d dropped the pen? Or that it was hidden under her mattress? If he found the pen, the papers stuffed in her bra, or the magazines in the grate, she didn’t want to imagine what he would do next. “Why?” She spoke barely above a whisper.

“I was a little rough on you a couple of weeks ago. I lost my temper, and that’s not right.”

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“No hard feelings. You got grit, and I like that. Will be good for the baby.”

The nice words didn’t hide the fact his mood could turn on a dime. “I brought you a hamburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Didn’t know if you liked chocolate or vanilla, so I guessed. Don’t all women like chocolate?”

“I love it,” she said, smiling.

Despite herself she edged to the end of the mattress. The burger and fries smelled good, and she was so tired of canned soup and cold cuts.

He unwrapped the burger and set the fries on the open wrapper. “Get it while it’s hot.”

She struggled to her feet and shuffled across the floor, making the chain rattle and rub. She took several bites and then drank from the milkshake. Chocolate. Soft. Sweet. It tasted so good she nearly wept.

“There was a woman. I saw her staring at your missing person flyer.”

“They’re still up?” She didn’t mean to sound so excited.

“There aren’t many left.”

He tried to downplay this bit of good news, but hope still clawed at her chest. Someone was looking for her? She kept her gaze on the fries, trying not to let her raised spirits show. “What did she want?”

“I couldn’t really tell. She can’t know about you. I’ve been extra careful with you.”

Paige knitted her fingers together so tightly the circulation nearly cut off. Could someone out there be looking for her? She had to believe, or else she’d go mad in this hellhole. “Are you worried?”

He leaned against the wall and surveyed the room. “How do you know I’m worried?”

“We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” She nibbled a fry.

“Maybe you’re right about that.” He nodded thoughtfully. “In here, I can be honest and be myself.”

In here, the lovely mask he wore for the world could be lowered. In here, the monster could roam free.

“I’m worried,” he said. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Worry has kept me a couple of paces ahead of everyone all my life. Worry is what’s going to get me through this last job.”

“I’m a job?”

“That’s right. My freelance job.”

“And when the job is done?” She picked up the burger and tore it in half, staring at the ketchup oozing out over the pickles.

“Like I told you, I’ll keep my word.”

“You’re selling the baby.”

He shook his head. “There are people that’ll be better parents than you. Besides, you said you didn’t want it.”

She’d been tired, depressed, and scared when she’d said that. Now, she was scared not just for herself but for the baby.

He inserted the key into the manacle’s lock and twisted. The metal loosened, and he gently pulled it off her ankle, leaving a raw strip of flesh in its place. “That’s got to smart.”

“It does.”

“I got some salve for that.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a tube of antibiotic cream.

She accepted it, fingering the fresh tube and wondering how she could use it to escape.

“Eat up, girl. That burger is getting cold.”

She’d been nauseated with morning sickness the entire pregnancy, and it felt good to have an appetite again.

As she ate, he took the tube back and spread ointment on his fingers. He motioned for her to hold her leg out, and when she did, he carefully rubbed cream on the worn skin.

His touch was gentle, and it shamed her that she responded to his kindness. She was so starved for people and affection that even her jailer’s touch was welcome.

“What if something goes wrong with the baby?” she asked.

“Don’t borrow trouble. That baby and you are going to be just fine.”

He was going to kill her. She’d feared this since the moment he’d locked her in here, but the instant she’d seen the initials on the back of the dresser, she’d known those women had not survived.

Without a word, he took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. “Time to go.”

She cringed. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a better place than this. A bigger room.”

When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her tighter and pulled her the rest of the way to her feet. “Let’s go.”

She dug her heels in. At least she was familiar with this hellhole. Here she at least had the pen and the two magazines containing the words of the other girls. “Where are we going?”

“Like I said, a new place.”

“I don’t want to die!”

He shook his head, grinning as if she’d lost her mind. “You ain’t going to die.”

Her belly felt heavy as she stood. “I don’t have shoes.”

“You don’t need shoes. You won’t be outside long.” Taking her by the arm, he pulled her out of the room, past her discarded cot still tossed against a cement wall, and toward a set of stairs. She glanced back at the room. Every night she’d dreamed of escaping it, but now that she was leaving, she was terrified. That room was the devil she knew, not the unknown hell about to come.

As she tried to keep pace with his long strides, her gaze swept the room. There was a washer and dryer and even some of her clothes drying on a clothesline strung between two posts. There were shelves stocked with canned food, baby provisions, and medical supplies. It could have been anyone’s basement. It looked ordinary. It was normal.

He yanked her and forced her up the stairs. She’d barely had any activity in the last few months and found by the time she reached the top stair, she was breathless with legs of rubber.

He yanked her through a kitchen equipped with avocado-green appliances that screamed 1970s retro. The smell of Clorox hung in the air.

“I’m afraid,” she stammered.

“No reason to be worried. We’re just getting you to a nicer room.”

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell. I just want to go home.”

His fingers tightened around her forearm. Not painful yet, but close. “I could shove sleeping pills down your throat, but you don’t want me to do that. It’s bad for the baby.”