“So what were they doing? Watching the airport for our return?”

“I doubt they had to do that. Does Owen have an Instagram account?”

“He’s fifteen, he has all that stuff.”

“Then chances are he posted when he came home, which is why you’re here today.”

“So where is Owen now?”

“I don’t have that answer. Right now I’m working on getting you out of here.”

She sat taller in her seat. Once she was out of there, she’d find Owen herself. “I didn’t kidnap Owen. If I did, then I’m the most unintelligent criminal on the planet, since I returned home with him. And if the court has taken him away, I can’t possibly leave with him again, now can I?”

“All sound arguments I will use.”

“Then use them, please. The thought of sleeping here makes me ill.”

Clive looked around the small room. “I believe that is the point, Miss Price.”

He stood to leave. “I have to caution you . . .”

“I’m listening.”

“When I do get you out of here, don’t contact Owen. Let others talk for you. Don’t meet him without a social worker present and with permission.”

“I’ve already asked a friend to check on him.”

“Which shows concern, but from this moment on, do not speak to the boy alone.”

She wanted to cry. “He’s going to be scared.”

“He will be cared for.”

She shook her head. “No one cares more for that child than I do.”

This time, when they led her back to the holding cell, Rachel didn’t care that she sat on a sticky bench that could result in an unnamed disease. She leaned her head back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes until her name was called again.

She’d aged five years in six hours.

Jason pulled his jacket from his shoulders and folded her into it as he shuffled her out of the station.

“How is he?” she asked before they made it to the waiting car.

“Angry.”

“Please tell me he isn’t at the Colemans’. He’ll run away the first chance he gets.”

“They placed him in foster care.” He shuffled her into the back of the waiting car, and the driver pulled away from the curb.

“Strangers.”

“He has my number and is texting constantly.”

Rachel blinked several times. “The lawyer told me not to contact him.”

His lawyer had told him the same thing. Not that Jason was listening. “I told him not to tell me where he is unless he feels threatened. That way no one can accuse us of plotting to take him away.”

She made a grabby motion with her hands. “Tell him I’m out and that I love him.”

Jason’s heart bucked a little with the conviction of her words. He removed his phone and typed in her request word for word.

Within seconds, his phone rang.

“We can’t answer it. The police can subpoena the phone records and see we talked to him. We’re better off texting.”

Can’t talk on the phone.

This is bullshit.

“I told you he’s angry.”

Our attorney is demanding immediate action on releasing you to Rachel.

Tonight?

Jason glanced at Rachel. “Clive said thirty-six hours at the earliest.”

“If you tell him that, he’s gonna bolt.” She glanced out the window. “It’s cold outside.”

He hated skirting around the truth. Probably tomorrow. Jason showed Rachel the text before he hit “Send.” With her nod, he did.

School starts tomorrow.

Then go and get your mind off all this. With any luck you’ll be home tomorrow night.

It took Owen a few seconds to reply. This is screwed up. We came here to the battle ax and her wimpy husband to avoid this crap.

“He needs to vent,” Rachel said. “He gets chatty when he’s nervous. Talking calms him down.”

“How about Nathan?”

“Good idea.”

Jason switched contacts and called. After a few seconds, Nathan let him know he was chatting with Owen and letting him bitch.

Only once Rachel was convinced that Owen was taken care of did she collapse into Jason’s side.

“What’s going through your mind?” he asked, his arm holding her close as the driver maneuvered the car out of Manhattan and onto the freeway.

“I don’t think I’ve skipped one emotion today. Fear, anger, disbelief. Part of me wished we’d stayed in Central America.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I thought that more than once today.”

She shifted in her seat to look at him. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“You would have found a lawyer.”

“No, not that. I mean, yes, I need someone like Clive, but I mean talking with Owen. I’m all he has. Knowing you’ve been talking to him makes it a whole lot easier that I was stuck in that dirty holding cell . . .” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out faster.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong and yet my freedom was taken away, Owen is spending the night with strangers. I have a burning desire to drive over to the Colemans’ and scream at them. They’re trying to say I’m unfit because of lead paint in the walls of my house. How is any of that possible? How many people live in homes with old paint?” Her shoulders started to shake and her eyes swelled. “Worse, I didn’t keep my promise to Emily. I said I’d never let Owen feel alone after she died.”

Jason pulled her into his chest. “Come here.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“I know, hon. We’re going to make this right.”

She cried in his arms until her tears ran out. They drove directly to his home, and he led her to his room. The bathtub in the master suite hadn’t been used in years. He drew her a bath and left her alone.

“How is she?” Nathan asked when he found Jason in the kitchen.

“A mess.”

“Poor lass.”

“Is Owen settled for the night?”

“He is. But I don’t think the lad will stay where he is long, Jason. He’s strong willed, that one.”

“He’s fifteen, confused, and angry.”

“I’ll keep talkin’ to him. Let him know to call me before doing anything stupid.” Nathan turned to leave the room. “Oh, and Mary stopped by, left a casserole. Said to call if you needed her.”

Glen’s wife had quickly become a rock in the foundation of their family. “Thanks.”

Nathan nodded and left out the back door and across the yard to his home on the property.

After following Mary’s instructions and heating up dinner, Jason brought a large plate and two forks up to his bedroom. Two steps into the room and he found Rachel in his bed, curled up into a ball and sound asleep.

As much as he wanted to marvel at the image of her in his space, he couldn’t help but mourn the reason why she was there.

He set the plate of food down, took a bite, and walked into his closet to shed his clothes. After a quick shower, he dimmed the lights of the room and crawled into bed beside Rachel.

Chapter Twenty-One

Owen wasn’t in a shelter, but the accommodations were uncomfortably close. The room he was given had four beds, two of which were taken, outside of his. And that was for the boys . . . another room housed three beds, with one girl curled up and talking to herself.