Adam was right. She had to talk. Inside she’d turned to slurry. Memories were blasting from her subconscious in rapid fire. She wanted to pant like a dog, release the heat and tension. “I don’t feel brave.”

“You’re brave, believe me. You’re the bravest person I know.” He held her with that fierce gaze that made her feel so safe that she let herself linger for a moment in its protection. It was a fleeting indulgence.

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Can you sit beside me? I need you close…here.” She laid her palm on a spot on the sofa beside her.

She waited until Adam had shifted alongside her. Air in, air out. Time to open the first mental strongbox. It had thick dust and cobwebs and a rotten odor. Inwardly she brushed it all aside and braced herself instead for the filthy contents.

“I ran away from the institution where I had been sent to board after my mother died. I was seventeen. The others bullied me all the time, because I seemed to be the only one there keen on getting an education. Some kids had set me up to be accused of stealing. That was fun for them. They’d done it before, and I knew they had me this time. My mind went nuts imagining the consequences, so I took off. For a few days I hid supplies, stuff I might need, out by the boundary wall, but I hadn’t made plans beyond that.”

So far, good. The bombarding memories had slowed, as if starting the story gave them patience, knowing they would have their turn at being aired.

“I walked and hitchhiked for a couple of days and found this empty cottage. The state of it was pretty bad, but I didn’t care. I was tired and cold. Being fall, the weather was starting to turn. The cottage was easy to break in, and inside was dry. I couldn’t risk making a fire, but there was old bedding in a closet, so I kept myself warm. I’d only been there a couple of days when I woke one morning and could hear someone or something moving about in the bushes.”

The beat of fear had hammered at her chest as she’d listened to the movement outside. Someone was in the yard. She’d ducked below a window at the first sound, then slowly raised herself to peer through to watch a gold-and-white dog crawl with caution from behind the overgrown shrubbery, semi-crouched, belly close to the ground. She was sniffing, hungry.

“Turns out the creature was a dog. A young dog that was as cold and scared and hungry as I was. She was desperately thin, a sparse fur coat stretched over a bony frame, and so frightened. I managed to encourage her in with some food…and named her Fala.”

In Fala she saw herself, forced to spend her life ducking from the hostile world.

“The first dog you rescued?”

Marlo looked up at him and nodded.

“Go on.”

“I’m ashamed to say that my career as a thief began, because we soon ran out of food and Fala was so hungry. But I had to be careful, too. I wasn’t sure whether the school was looking for me and if the police had been notified.”

“Anyone would steal in the same circumstances.”

Marlo shrugged. “The weather worsened, and it became cold, so I finally had to take the risk of making a fire. That was my downfall. It turns out the police were looking for me—not searching, but you know, watching out. Suddenly there’s this cop at my door. He’d seen the smoke from the fire and knew the place was usually empty, so he came in to investigate.”

“Oh…”

Marlo’s heart galloped. As she reached for her glass of water, her arm shook so violently she abandoned the glass and pulled her arm back to her side. She jumped when Adam reached around her shoulder, settling to absorb the warmth of his touch and his gentle words of comfort.

She had to trust him.

Her tongue was thick, and her mouth dry. “I need more water.”

He put a glass to her lips, and she lay a guiding hand on his, gulped the water and released him. Her entire body was trembling now. She studied her hands resting in her lap. Watching, detached, she pinched the back of one hand between the thumb and forefinger of the other, to make herself feel. “I can’t do this, Adam. I don’t have the words. I’m sorry, they’re not there.”

“They’re there, but they might need a crowbar to ease them out.” He took hold of her punishing hand and stilled it, keeping it safely cupped within his palm. “You don’t have to do that,” he whispered.

Not even the experts had taken her further than this stage. Every memory was locked down. Secure. If she didn’t say it out loud, maybe it hadn’t happened. That’s what she’d always told herself.

She dropped into silence. He had to reach her before she made herself too distant. “Marlo, listen. I know about horror and I’ve witnessed…hell, all kinds of nasty stuff. No matter what you tell me tonight, it won’t change the way I feel about you. I’d be so grateful if you were able to trust me enough to talk about this with me.”

“You’ll hate me.”

He pulled her against him and put his mouth close to her ear. “I will not hate you. That’s not an option.” He waited a bit to let his words sink in. “Here’s a question. Can you tell me the name of the policeman who found you?” And I’ll hunt him down and put him and Barrett against a wall and fucking fill them with bullets.

She stiffened against him.

God, so reactive. He held her tight. “Come on, a name. Nothing more.”

“Carl. Carl Hanson.”

He nodded as he committed the name to memory. “That’s really good. Would you like some more water?”

“No thanks.”

“Shall we talk about Carl Hanson?” Might as well give it a try. Her breathing accelerated and became audible. “Deep, slow breaths, Marlo.” She needed that tattooed on her wrist.

“There will be police files somewhere. You could look it up.”

“I can’t access that sort of information. I’m here as a guest. I want to hear it in your words, your story.” He held his breath. So freakin’ close.

“Carl started out kind. I begged him not to take me back to the school, and he assured me he wouldn’t do that. He talked to me about why I’d run away and all the stuff about my mother. I confided in him, told him everything about me. I actually liked him. When he left, he promised to be back the next day with some food for me. Fala didn’t like him. I should have listened to her.”

At the sound of her name, the old dog raised her head, thumping her tail on the floor.

“He turned up every couple of days, and we talked a lot. I even began to trust him. But pretty soon he started banging on about what a sacrifice he was making, how he’d get his ass whacked if he was found helping me. Finally, he started to work at me with how I owed him and that I was indebted to him, that I had to pony up. I didn’t even know what he meant. His demeanor had changed, and he was getting exasperated.”

Oh, shit, I know what’s coming. I knew all along. He drew a big suck of air, squeezed his eyes shut to hold the breath down, and anchored himself, determined not to react to this storm.

“He told me what he’d planned and gave me a day to think about it. If I didn’t agree, he’d take me in. He said this time I’d be sent to juvie, because on top of everything else, they had me for trespassing and theft.”

The anchor rope snapped and out rushed the air. “Bastard!”

She jerked from him. “Don’t be angry. You promised me you wouldn’t get angry!” The pitch of her voice escalated with her growing agitation.

He pulled her up against him. “I’m not angry, Marlo, I’m not.” I’m fucking enraged. Her agony was like his. He knew the choking breathlessness, the roaring in the ears. He knew how it felt to take those inadequate gasps, that no matter how much air you downed there was never enough to sustain life.

What does not kill me makes me stronger. He was back at the charred, smoldering remains of his house. The firefighters had found a body…

In his embrace, he could feel the little spasms as she gulped for air. He held her tight and rocked her, rocked both of them. “You’re safe here. Nothing can happen.” They both had to believe that.

She looked up at him, all shiny and broken. It was like gawking at a fresh car wreck under a streetlight on a rainy night. Her gold-flecked amber eyes were numbed by the memory of her horror and yet brightened by her tears. “I can’t keep going with this.”

With his thumb, he spread her tears across her cheek and softly exhaled. “Please, let me help you,” he whispered.

She tucked her head back into his shoulder and pushed, moving it from side to side.

“Take a minute.” He stroked her back, long sweeps down her spine and she calmed. Just a little.

“Tell me some more?” he asked. “That last bit and you’re free.” He rested his chin over the top of her head and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, because he knew the worst was to come.

She spoke into his chest, her voice muffled, her hot breath warming him. “I tried to come up with a plan, but I was useless. I couldn’t think of anything to get out of the situation. I had to take care of Fala, and I knew that if we ran off we wouldn’t get far. Traveling with a dog…we’d be too visible. But in the end, I had to try something, so I made up my mind we would leave as soon as darkness came.

“Carl never waited until the next day. He came back at the end of his shift. When he’d finished, he laughed and told me what I already knew. I was exactly like my mother, putting out for the cops in order to survive.

“After he left, I went outside and threw up.”

Adam pulled back and tucked his hand under her chin, turning her tear-streaked face up to him. “Look at me?” he asked. He waited until finally she faced him, her eyes downcast. “You’re so brave, and beautiful, and you did nothing wrong. You didn’t steal anything. This guy, Hanson, he stole from you. He stole your innocence and trust. On top of that, he betrayed you in the worst possible way, when he had sworn to protect you, and others just like you.

“I want you to understand this, Marlo—you never did anything wrong and you will never be like your mother.”

She withdrew from his grip and buried her head back into his chest. A large patch of his shirt was soaked with her tears. His emotions were in turmoil, but he had to shut them down and concentrate on helping her. “It’s not the end of the story, is it?”

Her head burrowed into his chest.

Fuck.

“He turned up every couple of days. I got used to it and, in an odd sort of way, was bereft on the days he didn’t show. He was never violent…never harmed me.”

Oh, he harmed her, all right.

“One time he arrived and said some of the others had found out about us and they’d threatened to tell his wife. The asshole was married.”

When she delivered these words, she looked up at him, her expression as stunned as she must have been when she’d first found out. As if that had been the moment Hanson had betrayed her.

“He had two daughters, not much younger than me. He said other cops might turn up and that I had to be nice to them.” She shivered lightly. “I lived in such fear of others showing up. I didn’t know when some stranger would appear, expecting…

“Then one day, when Carl was there, and we were—you know—Barrett walked in. He just walked in. He told Carl to hurry up, because he was waiting for his turn. I watched him throw off his shirt. He unbuckled his duty belt and dropped it on the floor. He came right up to me and laughed as he unzipped his pants. I panicked. I started screaming. Barrett slapped me and told me to shut up, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop screaming. And then I heard this gunshot, and I thought he was trying to kill me. And all the time I could hear screaming, and it was me, even though I thought I’d stopped.

“I can still hear it,” she whispered.

She shuddered against him. He pulled her close, trying to calm her. “Marlo, listen to me. It’s not happening now. Okay? You’re with me, you’re safe. Tell me if you understand that.”

She nodded against his chest.

“Keep crying until you’re done. Don’t try and control it, hon, let it out.” How on earth was he going to make this go away? He continued rubbing her back as if his hands could work all of the horror from her until gradually she came back to him.

“It was Mae who had fired the gun.”