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My gaze frantically searched the kitchen.
“Come sit,” Ed demanded curtly in a thick southern drawl. “It’s time for the morning’s bible lesson, and since you fell asleep before last night’s, you’ll do two studies this morning.”
I blinked, refocusing on my foster father. My stomach dropped to my feet and a wave of sadness washed over me like death.
They’d forgotten my birthday.
My thirteenth birthday. The one where I officially became a teenager.
Swallowing the knot in my throat and choking back the tears, I nodded, “Yes, sir.”
My cheeks burned as I lowered into the kitchen chair.
“Sit up,” he said, sliding the bible they’d gifted me across the table. “We’re on Philippians…“
The phone rang.
Pam pushed out of her chair and answered it. Her eyes snapped to me and I strained to listen to the other end of the conversation. They had a cordless phone, turned up to max volume.
“…we’ve finally got a room opened up, so we’re ready to take her back, as you requested. Are you sure you don’t want her? I suspect the overcrowding here is going to continue and we might need to move more children around in the foreseeable future. We greatly appreciate your willingness to help out?—”
“Yes. We’re sure.”
“Okay then, I’ll get everything ready for the transport…”
I looked down and began sobbing.
TWENTY-THREE
ROWAN
“How long have you and Alyssa been married?”
“Four years.”
Zach Kaing folds his hands on the table, his expression focused but dispassionate, his spine pin-straight, his navy suit impeccable. From the moment Alyssa Kaing’s husband walked into the police station, he’s exuded confidence, affluence, and power. If not privy to the information beforehand, I would not have believed this man had been traveling for almost twenty hours straight, and is certainly jet-lagged. I am also more curious than ever of how this tech tycoon and the tattooed, needle-scarred Alyssa came to be husband and wife.
Sitting next to Zach is his attorney, a New Yorker named Dennis Patrick. The men share similar dispositions. Dennis is wearing a tailored three-piece suit that probably costs more than my SUV. He has thick white hair and a sharp look in his eye that would intimidate a less-seasoned detective.
Zach, Dennis, Kellan, and I are in the conference room where I have updated Zach on the gory details of his wife’s homicide as well as details of the investigation—the ones I chose to share with him, anyway. We now are past the initial bullshit mandatory questions and beginning to dip our toes into the trickier questions. Thus far, Dennis has been silent, which I appreciate.
“Can you tell me what you were doing in Japan?” I ask.
“Yes. I and several of my colleagues were there to meet with potential investors.”
“Investors in your company?”
“Yes, Zeus Technologies.”
“How long have you been with Zeus Tech?”
“Three years, but I’ve been in the tech field since graduating college. I can give you my résumé, if you need to document all that.”
“No, it’s fine, thank you. When did you leave for this latest trip?”
“Last Thursday.”
“Was that the last time you saw Alyssa?”
