I stepped back into the sidelines, watching the scene unfold. My entire detective squad had come—they all left the party and raced over to help me. Detectives Ryan Cage, Dean Fury, Jack Creed, and officer Brooke Fury—even our Sergeant, Max Kannon—they all showed up, dressed for a party—armed and ready to save a pair of abandoned children.

I felt sorry for the father, though; it was quite obvious he had no idea what had happened that day. He didn't seem to understand what was going on right in front of him at all.

Sergeant Kannon took absolute control of the room immediately. He gave the father—his identification said he was one Dylan Sanborn—a businesslike handshake. Two firm pumps and a squeeze to the arm. Kannon was also a father. He had two young daughters and was one of the most empathetic and compassionate men I knew.

I watched them, quietly. The shock of finding a stranger in his house had worn off, and instead of the anger and confusion he showed me, he now looked thoroughly defeated and solemn.

"My wife…she had a drug problem. Right after Addison was born." He slid himself over a kitchen chair and hung his face in his hands. "I put her in rehab. Twice. And she was all right. For a while."

Sergeant Kannon shifted over and sat down across the table from him, listening. Next to me, Ryan reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "You okay?" he whispered.

I shushed him. I wanted to hear Dylan’s story. I wanted to know what would happen to his children. What kind of a person he was married to—what sort of a woman could just leave two young innocent kids alone.

“She’s been clean for two years. But lately…” He leaned back on the chair and squeezed his eyes shut. “The last few days…no more than a week…I've seen the signs again."

“What signs were those?” Sergeant Kannon asked, clasping his fingers together patiently.

"When she's home, she's a zombie. It's like she's my other child. When she's here, I have to make sure she eats, gets enough water." He shook his head, bitterness thick on his tongue. "The jewelry I gave her for Christmas is gone. I bet she fucking pawned it.” His words quivered with emotion.

"What did she use? When she was using two years ago?" Ryan asked, stepping forward, as always inserting himself into every conversation.

Dylan looked up, startled, as if he just realized we were all still in the room. His eyes darted to mine, and his skin tone whitened noticeably.

“Uh...she was taking Oxycontin when it was prescribed to her, and then when it wasn’t, she went straight to heroin.”

Damn. Those kids never had a chance to be loved—not when Mommy’s having that sort of an affair.

Dylan’s eyes stayed on mine for a few moments, then shot back to Kannon’s. “Some nights, I used to find her passed out, and I would stay up to watch her—she's had seizures, or her breathing gets too slow. I was always constantly checking on her. First time I walked in on her in the bathroom shooting up—" He choked back a gasp and cleared his throat. "Addison was a baby, and she was crying in her swing. The front door was unlocked, and she was nodding out on the side of the toilet with a needle still in her arm."

“I used to be a goddamn architectural engineer, and I had to leave my job because of her. Now I’m busting my fucking ass, making minimum wage just to pay for all the shit she’s done.” He rubbed his hand along his chest and the back of his neck, grimacing like he was in pain.

I continued my silence, uncertain as to what to say. Emotionally, I felt drained. A heavy weight pushed down on my shoulders and chest, and all I kept thinking was how unfair life was. That bitch didn't deserve to be a parent, and she was one, twice over. Two beautiful, perfect children, and there will be some women who will never—never know what it’s like to hold their very own living, breathing child—I felt instantly sick.

Heat spread over my body, my fingers and toes tingled with numbness. I had to stop this shit. My lungs squeezed tight, and whatever expression on my face made Ryan leap away from the table and stand directly in front of me.

“Pop-Tart.” He clamped his hands around my upper arms and gave me a little shake. I stiffened but focused my eyes on his. “You’re not the victim here,” he whispered in my ear.

I blinked back the fury. My stomach rolled with heat, and my fingers clenched into fists. God, I could just punch Ryan Cage in his stupid, stupid face.

“Now you’re just having an internal boxing match with me in your head.” He ran his stupid hands up my arms and palmed my cheeks in his fingers. "You were thinking life was unfair. She can have kids and throw them away, and you can't. I can see it on your face, Callie."

He leaned in closer. Behind us, Max and Dylan were still talking. Max was telling him his wife—the bitch—wasn’t an actual missing person yet, but the problem was child endangerment and negligence, that’s what she could be spending time in jail for. A judge would have to decide her fate.

Ryan tightened his grip on my cheeks. "Pop-Tart, you still see red. Stop. Those kids and that man are the victims, not you."

I could have ripped him a brand new asshole right then, but I took a deep breath and held it in. I knew he was right. But screw him for telling me. Screw him for not understanding with his perfect life.

I tapped his hands off me. "I am perfectly fine, but if you keep touching me, you won't be." My eye sockets throbbed. Shifting my body away, I cleared my throat and continued to listen to Max and Dylan’s conversation.

Dylan was standing next to Max then. His phone was in his hand, a perplexed look on his face. "But it looks like her phone is somewhere in the house. Look, this is our block, and the signal is beeping right there."

"You're tracking her on your phone?" My voice sounded alien. It was high-pitched and squawky, and I really needed to learn to shut the hell up.

Dylan’s eyes met mine again. They were stunningly red and horrified. “I used to need to, yeah.” The skin around his eyes tightened and crinkled. “I guess I have to now, too.”

“Dean, Brooke, Jack!” Max called for the others. Brooke had carried the kids into their rooms so they wouldn’t be woken up by the chaos we were causing. “Callie, Ryan.” He swooped his index finger in a circular motion. “We need the perimeter of the block covered. She’s possibly right outside the house or on the block somewhere.”

There was no need to repeat the order; we were out of the house and on the street immediately, two by two. We took off in all directions, Sergeant Kannon paired up with me and running a step behind. We stopped at the corner, by the mailbox. I was winded from running in the stilettos. My feet ached from being in them for so long, and the back of the right one had dug a hole in my ankle. I leaned on him for support and kicked the stupid shoes off.

Both of us stilled, eyes wide, searching in all directions.

“What’s that?” he said, looking up the block opposite me.

A car was parked with its two driver’s side tires up on the curb.

“Did he say what the make of her car was?” I asked, walking closer toward the vehicle. I couldn’t tell from where we were if the car was occupied or not. “It doesn’t look like there’s anybody in—”

A shadow moved in the front seat, blending itself with the darker shadows cast from the trees that blocked the streetlights.

"No, no, I think we got someone inside."

It wasn’t until I was face to face with her that I realized I had crossed the street and opened the driver’s side door, and my breath puffed out in a loud crackly gasp.

Wide blue eyes stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Beneath them, dark bruised half-moons added a sense of harshness and despair to her features. Her skin was the color of milk, her hair long and blonde that curled into those perfect natural banana shapes. She was the most hauntingly beautiful thing I had ever seen. She could have been a model if she wasn't trying to kill herself with the poison-filled needle still stuck in the crook of her arm.

I was instantly fascinated by her—a beautiful, damaged princess—what could her life be like that was so horrible she needed to do this to get away from it? What pain did she feel? She had everything. I hated myself for the envy that took over, rocking me back on the heels of my bare feet.

Her eyes blinked up at me, trying to focus. Her lips moved to form words, but none reached my ears.

I stumbled back. Lost in silent rage. White noise filled my head as I watched her fall out of the car onto the grass, the needle jamming deeper under her skin. My limbs shook with tremors that matched hers. My phone was against my ear, and my voice was talking, telling a 911 dispatcher where we were. But the fire inside me stilled burned, boiling my blood. This piece of shit could have killed her children today, and now we have to save her selfish life.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t.

Dylan Sanborn rushed to the car. His knees were in the grass, his hands yanking out the needle and crushing it in his fist. His face looked like a storm, thunderous and dangerous, spiraling and circling like a tornado. She’s too thin on the ground, she twitched and kicked, and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes jiggled like one of Addison's toys, and she couldn't see us; she couldn't see what she'd done or what she might have hurt.

“Sheri. What the fuck did you do?” Dylan’s voice was primal. Gut wrenching.

Sheri. Sheri Sanborn. The bitch was wearing the coat I left on the front door, sized for her child, around her waist. And I know without a doubt the fifty dollars I left in the front pocket bought her all the heroin that presently surged through her veins. I wanted to scream.

I stepped back further, not trusting myself.

Sirens wailed in the distance, closing in.

Arms wrapped around my frame, and hands dug into my sides. I looked around wildly, about to go to blows with whoever was touching me.

“Your dress is up. You’re full of mud. You’re barefoot. And you’re about to lose it.” Ryan’s voice was against my ear, his arms pulling me up and dragging me away. Brooke was grabbing me next, encasing me in her arms and holding me tight. “I got you, girl. Let’s walk it off. Let’s go.”

“For the love of God,” I snapped, dislodging myself from the unwanted hug fest. “I am absolutely fine.” I shrugged them both off and watched as the ambulance pulled up to the scene.

Shadows and people crowded around, blending into each other. I could barely make out features, my eyes blurred with angry tears. Time moved in quick snapshots in front of me. White noise filled my head, and my pulse pounded loudly in my ears.

“Thank you.” The achingly soft-spoken words drifted into my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, turning to whoever had walked up to my right side.

Dylan Sanborn stood next to me, watching the emergency technicians deal with his wife. His face turned full to me, and his eyes glossed with tears, his mouth in an angry slash across his face. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would have happened today.”

I nodded, numbly, feeling horrible for him.

Sheri was moved onto a gurney and rolled quickly into the back of the ambulance.

“You the husband?” the driver called out.

“Yeah,” Dylan answered, nodding his head.

“You coming or what?” the guy asked impatiently.

Dylan faced me. Terror filled his eyes. “The kids…I can’t…I don’t have anyone.”

I touched my hand to his, and something strange zinged at the base of my neck. "I'll take care of them. I'm right here. I could stay until you get back."

I wanted to take back the words as soon as I said them, stuff them back in my mouth and choke on them. Why would I say that? Why would I want to help a woman who…

Dylan's eyes filled with tears, and he grabbed me in a hug. The embrace was hard and tight, and I felt the relief flood off him in strong, hot waves.

"I owe you my life right now, Detective Ward.”

The scruff on the bottom of his chin scratched at the side of my face as he pulled away. He shoved a set of keys into my hands and climbed into the back of the ambulance without another word.

“Not the best idea, Callie. I think we should call—”

“No one asked you, Ryan,” I snapped, heading back up toward Dylan’s house. And there in the doorway stood Jack Creed, with a crying Ben in his arms.

"He just woke up, and I didn't see any bottles or milk or anything."

I held out my hands, and he offered me Ben. "I saw some under the sink before. Clean the bottle well, please, for me. Boil some water."

“Sure thing, Callie.”