“You can’t arrest her.” Tabby’s voice echoes over the microphone, above the crowd’s growing hum.

She’s watching us, her eyes wide and shocked.

My heart both fills and hurts. She’s still defending me.

But I have to go with him.

“Stay out of it, Tabby.” Jared takes my arm and pulls me off the stage.

We go through the back behind the curtain, away from the anxious audience.

We’re in a back hallway when Tabby catches up with us. “You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“You shouldn’t defend me. I’ve been lying to you this whole time.”

“No you haven’t.”

Frustrated, I come to a sudden stop, halting Jared’s forward progress.

I swallow and look her in the eyes. “I have.” She deserves the truth. “I’m not a good person.”

She’s stunned into silence, something I’ve never seen before.

I jerk out of Jared’s grasp. “I’m not going to run. You don’t have to hold me.” I keep walking in the direction we were going, Jared keeping pace behind me.

I don’t look back.

In the parking lot, I follow him to his Jeep. He opens the passenger door for me. The ride to the station is tense and silent. I want to ask him what’s going on, what he’s thinking, but I don’t. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see how much I’ve hurt him.

Once at the station, I’m cuffed and taken into a small interrogation room, and still without saying a word, he leaves.

I don’t know how long I’m left there, but it feels like at least an hour.

Long enough for me to replay the scene from the gala in my mind, the words Father shouted, the evidence they surely have against me.

But I have a little hope. Even if I’m locked away, I can tell them about Paige and make sure she’s safe and away from them.

When the door opens, it’s Jared again.

He’s still dressed in his tuxedo from the gala, but it’s significantly more rumpled since the last time I saw it. His tie is hanging around his neck and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. His hair looks as though he’s been running his hands through it. It’s the least put together I’ve ever seen him, but his eyes find mine unerringly.

They aren’t the same eyes that have been watching me for the past three weeks. Not the eyes full of laughter, shared jokes, and comfort. His gaze is as enigmatic and inscrutable as when we first met, when I was sure he hated me, when I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

We stare at each other in silence, eyeing each other up.

I have no idea what to say. His eyes continue to search mine, as if seeking the truth, but I don’t know what truth he needs.

I wasn’t expecting him.

I thought once he discovered the truth, at best he would leave me to my fate. Have one of the other officers interrogate and book me. Ignore me completely like he did on the drive over. It’s what I deserve. I don’t deserve his regard or even his anger.

He doesn’t say anything. He enters the room, leaving the door open behind him. But he doesn’t come in any farther, lingering near the exit instead.

I stand but I don’t know why. Where am I going to go?

“Hi,” I say. Brilliant.

“Hi,” he repeats. “What’s your real name?”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Charlotte.” Finally. My name. I’ll never have to hear him call me Ruby again. Well, more than likely I won’t hear him call me anything again. But still, the relief is acute.

He nods. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

I sigh and slump back down in my chair. So this is what we’ve been reduced to. Cops and robbers. He’s here to act like he cares so I’ll open up and confess to everything.

I could say yes, ask for food to go with the drink, drag it out and see if I can get any information or anything out of them in return. Cut a deal. But I’m not that person anymore.

“Why don’t we dispense with the interrogation tactics and you just tell me what you want from me?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few long seconds. Then he shuts the door softly and sits in front of me. He pulls his little black notebook out of his pocket, the same one he used when we worked together on the Castle Cove Bandit. “Information.”

“What kind of information?”

“How much do you know about the Hamptons?”

I smile, even though I don’t feel like it. The motion is reflexive. This is what I wanted—to come clean. But at the same time, I know the truth is going to hurt. Me. Him. It’s all the same thing. “First of all, they aren’t really the Hamptons. That’s a fake name.”

There’s no hint of surprise. He already knows. Interesting.

How much does he know? About them, and about me? Obviously not enough if the need for information is there.

“What are their real names?”

“I’m not sure. They never told me.”

His brows furrow. “You don’t know your own aunt’s and uncle’s names?”

I chuckle a bit. “They aren’t my aunt and uncle. They’re my parents.”

His expression doesn’t change but he rocks back in his seat a couple inches.

I’ve surprised him. So this much he didn’t know.

“How can you not know your parents’ names?”

“Trust me, that’s not even close to the strangest part of my childhood. You want to hear about it?”

He nods, the movement quick and small.

And then I open my mouth, and out comes the truth. About my childhood. About Paige. I don’t tell him everything I know about Paige, yet. Just about how I raised my little sister amongst thieves and scoundrels, about how we eventually had to escape.

At first, I try to be brave and watch him while I tell the story, but I can’t. My eyes stray to the table in front of me and stay fixed there. On my own hands, which are clasped together.

“I didn’t mean to be Ruby. We were running out of money, and this girl came to the shop asking for a reading. She offered me two hundred dollars. I just . . .” I shrug helplessly. “I took the opportunity that presented itself. But then she was robbed. And you came to the door.”

“And you kept up the pretense that you were Ruby.”

“I didn’t see another way out.”

“You could have told me the truth.”

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know you. My whole life I’ve learned to trust no one. Especially cops. All I’ve known is lies and deceit. I’m not a good person.”

The truth is almost freeing.

The words keep tumbling out. I tell him everything. How we set up the cameras around town to get intel, how I used him when we were investigating the break-ins to see if the parents were involved. Then probably the worst part, how I stole the jewelry from Pearl to try and frame the parents, how it got turned around on me, setting it up for Jared to find the jewelry.

He doesn’t seem terribly surprised to learn I’m the Castle Cove Ninja. “That night . . . you were using me then, too?”

“Not using you.” How can I make him understand? “I tried to protect you. I told you I’m no good for anyone. I didn’t want to hurt you. Or Tabby or anyone else. But I did. I shouldn’t have let anyone get so close. And then the parents were here and they wanted to run a real con, not the small potatoes I’ve been running. I wanted to take Paige and run, but they took our car and our money. They wanted to take Paige too but they told me they would sign her over to me and disappear if I helped them. I bugged the shop, I trailed them around town, I framed them for robbery, I stalled, stalled, stalled. But nothing worked. I even—”

I look up into the harsh fluorescent lights above us, not letting the tears escape. I have to tell him this part.

“I hacked into one of your bank accounts. Once they realized you had significant assets, they wanted to steal from you, too. I didn’t want to do it, but I gave them one of your account numbers. A small one. It was just to stall them, put them off until I could take them down.”

His brows are drawn together but he’s otherwise blank as he watches me for a few, long moments. I expected an outburst. Some yelling or pacing or slamming of doors. Instead, he surprises me.

“Where’s Paige?”

I swallow. “I kept her safe. She’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is, but we need to know where she is.” His eyes aren’t so hard anymore. They’ve softened a bit.

Does he believe me? Does he blame me? He should.

Especially if he believes me.

“I don’t . . . I can’t tell you unless you promise you won’t give her to them. They aren’t good people. I . . .”

And now I have to give him the full truth. My last card. “There’s another reason you can’t let them have her. Paige isn’t their real daughter.” It almost hurts to admit the truth out loud. Paige isn’t really my sister. Except, she is.

His eyes sharpen. “Why do you say that?”

“They have some documents locked in a safe. I broke into it—”

“With the neodymium magnet you stole from the station?” he interjects.

I nod, watching him closely. I can’t tell if he totally hates me now or not. His expression is unreadable. “There’s a birth certificate with the name Andrea Winchester. Same age as Paige. Parents were Mary and John. I did some research and found an article from the year Paige—Andrea was born. Her parents died and left her a bunch of money in a trust. She was kidnapped when she was only a couple months old. I think my parents are the ones who took her.”

I tell him about the attorney guy, the way my parents had Paige bring him and his cronies their drinks. How unusual it was. How he was there tonight at the gala and how the parents must be working with him or owe him something.

Finally, I tell him where I took Paige. To Camp Umpqua up in the mountains, with Naomi. The parents would never think to look for her there, plus she’s surrounded by other kids and counselors. I gave the head counselor a giant sob story about how our parents had died suddenly—that was pure wish fulfillment—and Paige needed to spend some time at camp as a distraction. I promised to pay them when I came to pick Paige up. I might have also dropped Jared’s name to get them to believe me. It worked like a charm.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods at the information and makes a note in his book.

Frustration at his lack of expression bubbles inside me.

“I know I’ve broken like a hundred laws. You can put me away. I just want Paige to be taken care of. And away from them. I’ll testify, I’ll go to prison, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep her safe. You promised me before.” My voice cracks a little on the last word. I’ve talked so much my throat is dry.

Still, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands and leaves the room. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh or bash my head against the table. But I don’t have to wait long for him to return. Less than a minute later, he comes back into the room and hands me a bottle of water.

When I try to open it with my cuffed hands, he makes a small, frustrated noise and then removes the cuffs.

His hands don’t linger on mine. Every movement is quick, efficient, and impersonal. And with each detached motion, something strong and sharp stabs my chest.

I gather myself and my emotions—they won’t save me or Paige now—and gulp down a few swallows of the cold water before asking, “What’s going to happen now?”

His mouth flattens into a thin line.

I can’t tell if he’s irritated with me or the situation in general or with something else happening beyond this room.

“I can’t tell you yet. But I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you just turn your parents in when they first came to town?”

“To who? Who would believe me? They’d already set the trap of being my aunt and uncle. Exposing them would have meant telling the truth about who I really am. I would have had to admit I had lied and deceived, and then ask people to trust that I was telling the truth. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“But now you do?”

“No, I don’t. But what happens to me doesn’t matter anymore. I thought I could fix everything without help.” I slump back in the seat with a sigh, shutting my eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking up at him. “But once I learned the truth about Paige, none of that mattered anymore. I knew I had a way to protect her, regardless of what happened to me. You don’t have to believe me. You can confirm the truth about Paige, and then you can protect her. That’s all I want.”

He watches me closely and then nods, as if I’ve just confirmed something he already suspected. “We have a bed ready for you, so you can get some sleep.” His voice is brusque and businesslike. Like I’m just one more criminal he has to deal with at work.

“Here?”

He nods.

I’m too exhausted to argue, and the truth is, I don’t want to be released. All that awaits me beyond these walls are people I’ve scammed and the parents.

I follow him without argument down the empty hall and past rows of vacant cells with barren bed frames and layers of dust. He leads me to the open door of the last stall at the very end. It’s been swept out and there are clean sheets on the cot, along with what looks like a brand new pillow. Folded clothes sit on top of a chair in the corner.

There’s even a bag of takeout that I can smell from the doorway. I know what it is without looking. It’s my favorite meal from Stella’s: a cheeseburger and fries. A last meal?

I pause before going in. Being locked into a small room does not sound enticing, even with all the amenities.

“If you aren’t charging me with anything, you can’t keep me here.”

“I know.”

I hesitate, only for a second, and then step into the cell.

He backs up, leaving.

“Wait.” I swallow, my tongue thick in my dry mouth. “Paige . . .”

His voice is quiet when he responds. “She’s going to be okay. And you are, too. I can’t tell you anything else right now. But I promise it will all end up okay. Do you trust me?”

The question he’s been asking me, and I’ve been asking myself, for the last three months. I finally have a real answer. “Yes.”

Then he leaves, the door to the cell sliding shut behind him with a decisive click.

And then I’m alone. There’s one high-set, narrow window facing the front parking lot. I have to get up on my tiptoes to look out of it. Two black sedans and an empty police cruiser sit out front. The sky is brightening in the distance. The sun will be rising soon.

I’m exhausted.

I make quick work of the food. Someone also left a new bar of soap next to the sink and I use it to clean up as much as I can. I’m surprised to find the clothes on the chair are mine. Someone got them from my house. I cringe. Ruby’s house. My old sweats, a T-shirt, and then a summer dress Tabby gave me. Under the chair is a pair of sandals that were also a gift from Tabby. Why are those here? Who brought them? I’m too tired to try and dissect it all.

I put on the sweats and T-shirt and crawl onto the bed, at first a little grossed out by the thought of sleeping on a jail cell cot, but the sheets smell like dryer sheets and I’m almost too wiped out to care.

What if this doesn’t work? What if Jared is so mad at me he doesn’t take care of Paige? What if she ends up alone or in foster care or . . . ?

I shut my eyes against the thoughts crowding my brain.

I trust Jared. I know he’ll do what’s right.

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

I’ve barely shut my eyes when a noise wakes me up. I can’t believe I fell asleep at all.

It’s the cell door opening.

The sound jars me awake, and I sit up with a start before rubbing my eyes and focusing on my visitor.

It’s Anderson.

My heart drops a little that it’s not Jared, although I don’t know why I would want to see him right now. Don’t need to dig the knife in any deeper.

Anderson nods at me. He’s wearing his uniform. His expression is somber but his eyes are warm. “I’ve got to take you to the court room.”

“Court room?”

“We have a small arraignment room set up for Judge Ramsey. Haven’t used it in almost five years, but it’s here.”

“Arraignment? What am I being charged with? Jared told me I wasn’t being charged with anything.”

Anderson shrugs. “I guess identity theft or something. I think they brought up the charges just this morning.”

“Can I talk to Jared first?” I haven’t even been booked. They can’t do this.

“Not yet. He’ll be there, though. I’m just supposed to get you ready and take you in. We have twenty minutes. I’ll be at the end of the hall. Just holler when you’re ready.”

I’m not entirely sure what to make of this new development. An arraignment? Jared told me less than eight hours ago that he wasn’t charging me. What’s changed?

Trust me, he said.

I guess this is one way to test it.

With numb fingers, I put on the dress that was left for me and the sandals.

I pull my hair into a knot in the back of my head as best I can, wash my face and call for Anderson.

When he comes back, he’s got a set of handcuffs.

“Just a formality,” he assures me when my eyes drop to the silver objects.

I nod and stick my hands out dutifully.

Keeping my head down, I follow him out of the holding area and back into the main building.

I hear the voices before I see them. Some kind of chanting, the words too muffled to discern. But the sound gets louder and louder the closer we get.

We turn down a wide hallway and there they are.

The first person I notice is Tabby. She’s leading a line of people, and they’re all holding signs. Hers reads Free Not-Ruby.

A startled laugh escapes me.

More people with different signs are crowded behind her. Eleanor is holding a sign that says, What she says, and it’s pointing at Tabby. Mrs. Olsen is in an oversized Garfield shirt with cat-print leggings, her own colorful sign reading #Resist. Then there’s Miss Viola in her wheelchair, Mr. Bingel and the boys—each with their own signs—and more. It looks like half the town is here.

When they spot me coming down the hall, they go a little crazy, waving, clapping, and cheering.

What are they doing here?

“Are you letting her go?” Tabby demands once we’re in earshot.

“Tabby, you know I can’t tell you anything about that. Now if you’ll get out of the way.”

“This is a miscarriage of justice!” she yells. “We demand you release her immediately.”

A few hollers of agreement erupt behind her.

He sighs. “Why don’t you talk to your brother? He’ll explain to you that I have to do this.”

“My brother is a moron.”

The door to the arraignment room opens, and Troy sticks his head out.

“There’s the moron now!” Mrs. Olsen yells.

Troy frowns. “What have I missed?” His eyes meet Anderson’s and then flick to mine. “Good, you guys are here. Come on in, we’re ready for you.” He holds the door open wider.

Tabby yells, “What is happening in there?”

“This isn’t a public hearing, Tabby.”

“That’s bullshit. Our voices will be heard!”

“Just let them in, Troy,” Jared calls from inside the room.

Troy rolls his eyes but opens the door a bit wider, and the crowd filters in.

Jared was smart to allow them to enter. Apparently soothed by having one of their demands met, they mellow out a bit, the dissension diminishing into quieter grumbles and whispers, mostly wondering what’s going on from the sound of it.

An answer I’m seeking as well.

Anderson and I follow in behind the mob, but Troy moves out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

It’s set up sort of like a courtroom, with a desk up front for a bench. Facing it is another table and folding chairs for litigants. Jared is sitting at the table on one side, facing the bench, his back to me, but he’s dressed in his police uniform. Chairs for the public face the setup, but there aren’t enough for the number of people who’ve barged in. Some stay standing in the back.

Anderson leads me to the seat next to Jared and I sit. I try to catch Jared’s eye but he says something to Anderson, leaning close to his ear and keeping his voice low too low to hear. Anderson nods and then heads back to the door. He sticks his head out and relays whatever the message was to Troy.

I don’t have time to speak or ask what’s going on, because a side door opens and Judge Ramsey walks in. He’s not wearing a robe or anything, just a simple gray suit and dark-blue tie.

When he walks in, everyone stands.

“Sit down. This isn’t a trial.” He motions to everyone before sitting at the table in the front of the room, facing the rest of us. “You want to explain why we are here today, Deputy?”

Jared stands. “We’re here to determine if charges should be pressed against this woman, Charlotte . . .” He pauses and finally, finally looks at me. “What’s your last name?”

I shrug. I have no idea what my full legal name is.

“Against Charlotte.” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise? Pity? I can’t tell because he looks away too quickly.

“We don’t know if there are charges to be brought?” Judge Ramsey asks, his brows furrowing, and for a second I get a glimpse of the power behind the wire-framed glasses. His voice, although not loud, holds the authority of someone who’s used to being in charge.

“Correct, Your Honor. We asked you here in case anyone has cause to charge Charlotte with a crime.”

“This is a bit unconventional, but I trust you will explain all in due course, Deputy.” He nods at Jared.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

A bit unconventional? That’s like saying Satan is a bit evil.

“The first people we brought in to be interviewed are Charlotte’s aunt and uncle, David and Leah Hampton,” Jared says.

I can’t help but note he didn’t call them my parents, even though I told him they were actually my parents and that David and Leah aren’t their real names. Does he not believe me?

The rear door opens and Anderson lets them in. Murmurs and shuffling fills the room as they come to the front, and then the parents are there, standing between the judge and Jared. Mother has red-rimmed eyes, and she’s clutching a handkerchief in one hand. Father looks somber and tired. They are the perfect picture of grieving relatives. Father has a briefcase in one hand.

“Can you tell us what you know about Charlotte?” Jared’s voice is gentle.

Does he believe them over me?

“We only ask for leniency for our dear niece.” Mother grips the handkerchief tighter and holds it up to her nose. “After her parents passed, she . . . didn’t do well with the trauma. The doctors say she has a persecutory delusional disorder. When someone experiences a shock, sometimes their brain has a bit of a break. In her case, it’s caused her to believe we are out to get her. It’s to be expected, since she was so young, and she’s always had a rather fragile constitution. We thought she was getting better, but then we discovered it was getting worse. That’s why we had to follow her here to Castle Cove. Paige called us and told us what was going on, and we knew her psychotic break was worse than ever before. She was stealing from people.”

I can only stare in shock. This is the angle they want to go for, that I’m crazy?

I can feel the eyes of the people behind me boring into me, and I try to look as sane as possible.

“Stealing?” Jared asks. “Because she pretended to be Ruby?”

Father opens his briefcase and hands him a sheaf of papers. “It was worse than that. We found these in her house when we were trying to find Paige. I think you’ll recognize those accounts, Deputy. Charlotte has a problem. She thinks she needs money and she uses people to get it. She’s the one who stole the jewels and we have proof.”

Jared flips through the papers.

I can’t see them from where I am, but I imagine they are the same photographs they showed me before. I’m glad I already told all of these things to Jared.

“Why didn’t you say anything to anyone about Charlotte not being Ruby?” Jared asks.

“We didn’t want her to get in trouble. It’s not her fault. You see, she’s suffered from these breakdowns before and she just doesn’t know what she’s doing. We thought if we played along for a little bit, we could convince her to come back home with us and we could take care of her, no harm done.”

“So you’re saying she’s mentally unstable?”

Mother lets out a brief sob. “Yes.”

“But you let her care for her young sister even though you know she has these problems?”

Mother’s hand flaps and she dabs her eyes with the cloth in her hand. “We thought she was better. She had been on medication and seeing a therapist for some time. And she’s always loved Paige. Her mental disorder doesn’t cause her to harm others, at least it never has before. And we let Paige know we were here for her, so if there was ever any trouble, she could come to us.”

“Do you know where Paige is now?”

There’s a brief flicker in Mother’s eyes. “No. And we’re so frightened.” Now she breaks down in sobs, grasping Father’s coat and burying her face in his shoulder.

Brava. I would slow-clap if it wouldn’t lend credence to my “persecutory delusions.”

Jared thanks the parents and they move back to their seats somewhere behind me, Mother still clutching Father while he consoles her and she sniffs into his neck.

Ugh.

Troy sticks his head in the room and nods in my direction.

No, not my direction, Jared’s direction.

Jared flicks a hand at Anderson.

What are they doing?

“So we have potential crimes of kidnapping, impersonation and identity theft, and then this,” he holds up the papers the parents provided. “Fraudulent withdrawal, robbery, fraud, and obstruction of justice. Let’s address these one at a time. The first one is impersonation and identity theft. For that, I’d like to introduce everyone to Ruby Simpson. The real Ruby.”

Murmurs swell around the room in a wave as Anderson opens the door and Ruby walks in, Jackson Murphy in tow.

She looks the same as when I last saw her, except a bit tanner and blonder, and her hair has grown a little. She’s wearing a long skirt and sandals and a tank top with crochet straps.

She waltzes in and smiles warmly at everyone, her face lighting the room. The murmurs swell into loud talk and speculation. Jackson’s expression is much more serious. He’s wearing a suit and he also has a briefcase. More evidence against me?

They walk to the front of the room and stand between Jared and Judge Ramsey.

I’m not sure what to expect. Is she going to be angry? But then she grins down at me.

“Are you Ruby Simpson?” Jared asks her.

“Yes.”

“Did you know this woman was impersonating you?”

“No. Not until this morning, when my accountant and your officer outside there,” she motions to the door, “met me at the shop.”

“And now that you know, do you intend to press charges?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” She puts a hand on her chest. “Charlotte may have been using my name, but she has done a great job with everything during my absence. In fact, the store has done better in her care than it would have in mine, I’m sure. My accountant went through the records this morning and everything is in perfect order. We’re already making a profit.”

“So it doesn’t bother you that she pretended to be you?”

“It’s a little odd, I admit. And I can’t speak for her giving readings to people or what she’s said, but I think she’s done more good than harm from what I’ve been hearing.”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Tabby’s voice yells over the crowd. “She’s helped everyone here. Real Ruby is right.”

“She saved my life,” Miss Viola says. “Sort of.”

“She saved us, too.” Little Gary and Greg step forward with Mr. Bingel behind them.

“And in doing so, she saved me, too,” says Mr. Bingel.

A chorus of voices rises, chiming in.

“She helped me get rid of the little people!”

“She listened to me when no one else would!”

“She’s the reason I’m baking again!”

“I don’t know why I’m here!”

“Okay everyone, quiet!” bellows Jared. The crowd simmers down and shifts uncomfortably in their seats. “We’re not saying Ruby, I mean Charlotte, isn’t a good person. What we’re trying to do here is follow the law, and there are still some things that need to be resolved. Now, her family is saying she might be a danger to herself and others because of a mental condition and that she kidnapped a minor child. Those are serious charges. We can’t just let them slide.”

“It’s just her word against theirs,” Tabby calls out. “How do we know they aren’t lying?”

I would kiss her right now if I weren’t handcuffed and she weren’t across the room.

“There’s really only one way to know. We have to ask Paige,” Jared says.

The door in the back opens again and this time Paige walks in. She’s flanked by two people in suits. Two people I recognize. The couple that was at the shop the other day, the ones acting a bit off right before the parents came in with their ultimatum.

“Come on up here, Paige,” Jared calls out.

Paige winks as she walks by.

She knows something.

“Why don’t you tell us your side of the story, honey,” Judge Ramsey says.

She bites her lip and glances around. “Charlotte isn’t crazy. Yes, she pretended to be Ruby, but it was only so we could have some money for food and stuff. It was more my fault than hers.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I speak for the first time. “I take full responsibility for everything.”

“You can’t say you kidnapped me, not when I came with you willingly.” Her eyes leave mine to flick to Jared and then to Judge Ramsey. “They aren’t our aunt and uncle. They’re our parents.”

A gasp goes through the crowd.

Paige is still talking. “They aren’t nice people. You guys don’t understand. We had to leave. Charlotte wanted me to have a normal life. I was never allowed to go to school. They barely let me leave the house unless it was for a con.”

She stops talking and looks at me.

It feels like everyone in the room is watching me, waiting.

“Our parents are con artists,” I say. “I knew how to pretend to be Ruby because that’s the life I’ve lived. I wanted to protect Paige from that. But it didn’t work. I can’t protect her. And I should be charged with a crime. I lied to all of you. You can send me away, just please, please take care of Paige. She’s innocent in all of this.”

“No one can take her, she’s our daughter!” Mother yells.

“Now that, we know, is not true.” Jared slips opens the file on the table. “She’s not your daughter. I have her birth certificate.” He waves it in the air. “She’s the daughter of John and Mary Winchester, who are both deceased. I have the proof here.”

The whole room explodes.

Judge Ramsey bangs on the table until the voices quiet down.

Jared continues. “Paige’s real name is Andrea. Her parents died in a plane crash when she was just an infant, and these people kidnapped her.”

“That’s a lie!” Father shouts.

“It’s not.” The stocky guy in the suit with Paige speaks up.

The parents recognize the tables have turned. They rush for the exit, but the room is too small for them to slip out unnoticed.

“Someone stop them,” Jared calls out.

There are too many people here against them now. Mrs. Olsen pushes Miss Viola’s wheelchair, tripping Father, and the two suits are on him. Anderson grabs Mother, and the suits click handcuffs on the duo with ease.

Mother’s face is ashen and Father’s jaw is clenched. It’s the last thing I see before they’re escorted out of the room.

I whip back toward Jared. That couple. They came into the shop that day, acting strange. And there was the nondescript sedan, the one I thought was following us after our day at the beach. The same one that drove by when I was casing the parents’ house. The clothes, the haircuts, the way they move like they’re in charge of everything. They must be FBI, or some kind of federal agents. They’ve been here, in town for a while. Have they been working with the local PD? Has Jared known about them, about everything this whole time?

Paige runs into me, throwing her arms around my waist. My hands are still cuffed, so all I can do is lean my head against hers.

“What does this mean?” I ask Jared, my eyes meeting his over Paige’s head.

“It means we used this fake arraignment to get your parents here in front of witnesses. It means we aren’t going to be charging you with anything but . . .”

His eyes flick behind me.

One of the suits is back. The woman. She makes her way up to the front of the room where we’re standing. “I’m Agent Sparks. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

They’re taking me, too.

“No!” Paige says, her arms holding me a little tighter.

I nod at the agent, my throat full of emotion. “Can you just give me a second?” I turn back to Jared. “What about Paige?”

“She’ll be okay,” he says quietly, and then without removing his eyes from mine, he pulls another stack of papers from his file. “Your Honor, while you’re here, I was wondering if you would sign some temporary guardianship papers until we can contact the relatives of Andrea Winchester.”

He walks to Judge Ramsey.

“I had someone at the county draw these up this morning so she can live with me, since she has stayed with me before.”

Judge Ramsey lifts a brow. “If there are no objections?”

No one objects. The people in the room are too busy murmuring to one another, reiterating the story, watching me and Paige. Or Andrea. I don’t know if I can get used to her real name.

“Paige, you can go with him. It’s going to be okay.”

Her head shakes back and forth against my chest. “No.”

Jared walks over to us, leans down, and whispers something in Paige’s ear. I can’t hear the words because suddenly Tabby is there, questioning Agent Sparks.

“Where are you taking her? Are you charging her with something? She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step back, please.” Agent Sparks’s voice is clear and strong and no-nonsense.

“You aren’t the boss of me.”

“Tabby.” Troy comes up behind her. “You have to get out of the way.”

“I do what I want!”

With an apologetic look at Agent Sparks, Troy picks Tabby up, slinging her over his shoulder.

“This is anarchy!” she yells as she’s carted out of the room.

I just shake my head and laugh, but it emerges as more of a sob.

Agent Sparks faces me. “Am I going to have to carry you out of here, too?”

“No. I’m ready.” And with one last glance at Jared and Paige, I turn and follow her out of the room.