I realized this was little more than a holding cell. A place to keep Kallie, because he hadn’t been allowed to move her out of state until I’d been in front of a judge.
A palpable rush of agitation burned through Sebastian, and he gripped the steering wheel, his attention also locked on the face of the house where my daughter had been held.
The clock read four twenty-eight, and the same small blue car that had been present the night Kallie was taken pulled up behind the Suburban as the sun slid slowly toward the horizon.
In discomfort, Sebastian cleared his throat. “Think it’s best I wait here. Last thing we need is me bringing more trouble on you two. Took about all I had not to lay that smug bastard out back in court. Not sure how things would go down without a building full of cops to deter me.”
I gave a quick nod. “Yeah.”
I knew with Sebastian, it was vastly more than just an idle threat, which was precisely why I could never let him know just how depraved Martin truly was.
He smiled a brilliant smile that cut through his intensity. Something beautiful beneath his hardened scars. “Go get your girl.”
Through the rearview mirror, I watched Claribel Sanchez step from her car. I did the same. Although my movements were rushed and shaky, filled with the culmination of my anxiety, fear, and relief.
This was it.
I attempted to steel myself against the idea of facing Martin in this setting. One without the screen of intercessors. No attorneys or judges or officers there to act as a buffer. Only this lone woman, who knew nothing of Martin, and Sebastian who knew too much.
I flattened my palms down the front of my blouse, nervously straightening it, needing something to do with my hands.
She approached me with a cautious smile on her face. “Ms. Bentley.” Sympathy flashed across her features. “I’m glad I can be here to help with the transition.”
In her eyes I saw an apology. As if maybe she’d felt it in her gut she’d been making a mistake the night she’d torn my daughter from our home.
Or rather, the judge had made one, because it was clear she’d only been doing what she’d been commissioned to do. The lines marring the woman’s face obviously told of the countless hours she devoted to her job with very little thanks, but rather case after case of heartache and abuse and broken homes.
I twisted my hands as I glanced at the house, making a vain attempt at controlling the moisture clouding my eyes. “I’m just thankful this transition is taking place.”
Her smile turned knowing, and she gestured with her head toward the house. “If you’ll just wait here, I’ll go inside and get your daughter and bring her out to you.”
She looked to the Suburban. “And with Mr. Jennings’s and Mr. Stone’s history, I’d like to ask he remain in the truck.”
Apparently Sebastian wasn’t the only one who viewed himself as a danger.
“Of course, thank you,” I rushed.
“You’re welcome.”
She took the walkway to the front door and rang the doorbell. An older woman I’d never seen before opened the door.
Not Martin.
I stuttered over my heightened defenses, a second’s ease in knowing I wouldn’t have to face him. I absolutely hated the power he still held over me. The utter fear I felt at just the mention of his name.
Although it was no longer just for myself, but for my daughter.
Nodding, the older woman extended the door open and welcomed Claribel inside. Then it closed.
I stood there with my heart in my throat. Restless, I tried to force myself to stand still and wait, when the only thing in the world I wanted was to beat down the door and find my daughter.
Five minutes later, the door opened again.
A tiny girl with a mane of wild blonde curls stepped out, and my heart, which had been in my throat, felt as if it burst. As if it exploded with a balm filling my chest too full, overflowing into my veins. Touching and soothing and inciting where it brushed through every inch of me.