“Why?” He turned on her, his jaw set in anger. I’d never seen my dad like this. He was always the calm one, the stable one. “So she can end up in the hospital every other week? You want this for her?”

“Dad, I want her to be happy. She likes her job and she’s good at it and it’s not up to us.”

He turned from her as though disgusted. I wondered where Denise was, the stepmother from hell; then I saw her standing down the hall, worry lining her face. She looked up as two officers walked past and stepped into the room. And lo and behold, one was Owen Vaughn, naturally, and I knew this was about to get much, much worse.

“Charlotte Davidson?” the officer that I didn’t know and who had never tried to kill me asked.

“Dad,” Gemma said, “please think about what you’re doing.”

“That’s her,” Vaughn said, as though he hated to do it.

Uncle Bob spoke up then, suspicion thickening in his voice. “What are you doing, Leland?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

“Ms. Davidson,” the officer said, “we’re here to place you under arrest for aiding and abetting an escaped convict and obstruction of justice in the apprehension and arrest of said convict.”

My jaw fell to the floor. I looked from them to Dad and back.

“Dad, please,” Gemma said.

“Due to your physical condition, we’re going to ask that you come in voluntarily within the next week to be formally arrested. Your rights and privileges as a licensed private investigator have been suspended until an investigation can determine the extent of your involvement in Reyes Farrow’s escape and continued evasion.”

With the wind knocked completely out of me, I sat in stunned silence as he spoke. My father did this. The one person I could always count on growing up. My rock.

Somewhere between the drips of a leaky water faucet nearby, I slipped into a surreal state of consciousness. I heard Dad and Uncle Bob arguing violently, nurses rush in and out, Gemma and Cookie talking to me in soft, soothing tones. But the world had been dipped in red. My dad. Reyes. Nathan Yost. Earl Walker. It was enough to bring out the anger in a girl.

My sudden spike in annoyance must have summoned Reyes. He was there at once, enshrouded in his undulating robe. He looked from the arguing crowd to me, then back again. And he was not a person I wanted to see. In fact, he was more a person I wanted to punish. Because I saw betrayal. Unconscionable behavior. Murder.

“Rey’aziel,” I whispered under my breath with every intention of sending him back to his body for good, but he was in front of me at once.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice a low growl.

I glowered at him. “You don’t get to order me around.”

He pushed his hood back, his face startlingly beautiful, inches from mine. “So you’re going to punish me? Unbind me when you need me, then bind me again when you don’t?” He leaned so close, I could smell the lightning storm roiling inside him, the earthy dampness of morning dew evaporating under the heat of the sun. “Fuck you, then.”

I shook to my core, the anger sparking within me, catching fire and flooding the area with the energy pouring out of me. In a word, I threw a fit.

“What is that?” I heard someone ask.

I looked up, a curious slant to my gaze as I watched everyone around me grab for furniture, the doorjamb, each other … anything to stabilize themselves. Uncle Bob stumbled, then rushed toward me. He knew. Somehow he knew.

He took my chin into his hand. “Charley…”

The lights flickered overhead. Sparks cascaded around us and screams filtered toward me from the hall.

“Charley, honey, you have to stop.”

Cookie came into my line of sight, her eyes wide with fear as she clutched an equipment cart.

“Charley,” Uncle Bob said again, his voice soft, soothing, and in an instant I blinked back to reality. He was in front of me, and I was back in my body, grounded in flesh and bone. I forced myself to calm, to take deep, cleansing breaths, to control the arcs of energy surging out of me.

Screams and shouts echoed down the hall. People were struggling to their feet. Equipment had toppled over and light fixtures hung from the ceiling by wires.

And my father looked at me. And he knew.

Then Reyes was in front of me again, an expression that was part anger and part satisfaction lit his beautiful, traitorous features. “Finally,” he said, right before he disappeared.

Then it was silent and Uncle Bob was leading me out of the hospital, carrying me up the stairs to my apartment, onto the sofa where Cookie had built a bed with sheets and my Bugs Bunny comforter and set a soda on the end table she’d scooted within easy reach. I was back at my apartment, stitches, arm sling, leg brace, and all.

“They’re calling it an earthquake,” Cookie said, the relief in her voice evident. Like they would ever suspect that undulating force had come from a person, especially one unable to walk and chew gum at the same time. She needn’t have worried. “And Neil Gossett from the prison called. He has information on Reyes’s status, and he wants to know how you are.” Oddly enough, I didn’t care. “I gave him the usual. But if you want to call him later, I’ll leave your phone right here.” She put it on the table beside the soft drink.

“I’ll take care of this, hon,” Uncle Bob said, hovering almost as much as Cook. “Don’t worry about what your father did. I’ll get everything dropped.” He left worried and angry, and I wanted to warn him about the dangers of driving in his condition, but I was so numb, even the thought of being a smart-ass didn’t appeal to me.

So, I sat in shock and wallowed in self-pity for a good long while before drifting off, Cookie at my side. At least I could sleep now, and suddenly sleep was all I wanted to do.

* * *

A knock sounded at the door. I didn’t quite have the energy to invite a visitor in. I’d used it all hobbling over to the snack bar and climbing up it with my one good leg. I raised the other knee and sat on the hard tile surface with my back against the wall, the coolness biting into my injuries. I didn’t deserve to be comfortable, spread out on a sofa watching soaps all day, even if I was decades behind.

Wednesday sat cross-legged on the opposite end of the countertop, the knife in her lap, and I wondered if it was there to protect her, to keep her from being betrayed by almost every man in her life. Probably not.