"Where to in Central Park?" the driver asks after we cross the bridge into the city.

He's been squinting at me through the rearview mirror for the whole ride so far, but I've been ignoring his looks.

"Just somewhere I can sit," I mutter. And think. I have no idea where to go now. Or what to do. If Eric's in jail, I can't even call him, and that's all I want to do.

"You should go to the police, if you're in trouble," the driver suggests, something akin to fatherly in his tone.

"I might," I offer.

But I'll call my Dad first. Tell him everything, ask for his advice.

What seems like hours later, Central Park finally comes into view. The driver pulls up at the curb next to a set of wide, wrought iron gates.

"Will this do?"

I nod and fish out one of the hundred dollar bills from my purse.

"I was serious before, Miss. The police will help you, if you are in trouble."

"I know," I say as I take back my change. "Thank you."

I appreciate him trying to help me, I really do. But what truly bothers me is not something the cops can help me with. I'm all alone in a huge city, with nowhere to go and no friends. The man who brought me here is locked up, accused of murder, and I have no idea where I'll spend tonight. I'm not even sure I have enough money for a hotel room and a bus ticket back home. I don't even know if I have enough money for a bus ticket home and some food along the way. And I'm pretty much certain I don't want to go home in the first place. I want to stay here with Eric. But is that crazy?

I just ran away from the only other person I know in this city. Because he tried to…I don't even know what he tried to do. But it was too scary to stick around and find out. It's too scary to even think about. But I can't tell the cabbie all that. And even if I would, he'd have no answer for me.

It's too late to even consider it, since he's already driving away, but maybe I should tell the police about Terry and the weird way in which he acted. Though it might have been just from the shock of losing his wife and finding out his brother was arrested. Maybe he truly did just want to make sure I was safe. It could be. But that's not the feeling I got. That's why I bolted. And I will never go back.

It's as humid inside the park as outside on the sidewalk, but it's much calmer, a lot more serene. That must be why they built it in the first place, as a haven, a piece of nature amid the jungle of concrete this city is.

I sit on the first bench I see, and pull out my mobile, dial my home number. Dad will know what I should do. I don't want to worry him, because he's so far away, and can't really do anything to help me, but I'm all out of ideas.

The phone just rings and rings, and no one picks up. I try again and again. I try Wendy's mobile too, but it keeps going to voicemail. By the fifth time I get no answer, I start getting scared. What if something happened to them? Sure, they might be out, but usually both Wendy and my dad are inside at this time of day. It's too hot to work in the field, or to run errands. We'd all be watching TV together right now, if I were home.

My phone starts ringing suddenly, just as I hang up on another failed attempt to reach my dad. It's Eric, and I suddenly can't breathe right again.

"Eric?" I ask as I pick up, because there was never a chance that I wouldn't. But how can he be calling if he's in prison? And calling from his own phone no less.

"Joy, where are you?" There's a hard undercurrent in his voice, but mostly he just sounds sad, lonely like me. I understand that feeling.

"I'm in Central Park," I answer, the thought that I might have just given a killer my location hardly even registering.

"How did you get there?"

"I took a taxi," I answer, saying the first thing that pops into my mind. Just hearing his voice is making me feel worlds better, safer, like maybe I'm not alone at all and never will be again.

"You took a cab all the way from Long Island?" the mocking tone is there, but it's well masked by something he's not asking. And I have a pretty good idea what that might be. He thinks I've left him over what happened last night.

"Did they release you?" I need an answer to this question. I need it to be the right answer.

"Release me? Who?" He sounds genuinely confused, it even overshadows the sadness.

"The police. Terry said they arrested you for Julie's murder."

"Terry said what? When did he tell you this?" Anger rises in his voice with each syllable.

"This morning. He came to get me, took me to his apartment in Brooklyn, but he was acting really weird, so I left—"

"He did what? That sick…" He takes a deep breath. "Joy, I wasn't arrested. I haven’t spoken to the cops since Sunday."

Relief and happiness, love I hadn't allowed myself to feel since Terry came banging on the door this morning are racking through me like a flash flood.

"Where are you exactly? I'll come get you."

I scan my surroundings, but have no idea how to explain to him where I am.

"I don't know," I finally mutter.

"Go out to the sidewalk and read off the street number and avenue name." Through the phone, I hear a car door slam shut.

We have so much to discuss, Eric and I, and maybe I shouldn't be so ready to run back to him after everything that's happened. But seeing him again, and feeling his arms around me, that's the one thing I truly want.

"How long will it take you to get here?" I ask once I read off the address.

"With afternoon traffic, it could be awhile," he says. "But I'll drive fast."

"Hurry," I whisper.

He promises he will and ends the call.

I wish he was here already.

But what if he's the one lying? What if Terry was telling the truth?

It's the logical part of my brain asking those questions. In my heart I know which of the two brothers I trust. I've always followed my heart, and it has yet to truly lead me astray despite a few detours. Unless this is it. Unless this is that first time. And that voice won't shut up.

So I take a walk in the park, concentrate on nothing but the lush plants around me, listening to none of my thoughts. I'll know the truth when I see Eric, I'll see it in his eyes.