Her eyes flash. "Well, maybe you should have."
"I came to tell you what happened." My voice is soft, but with effort, I force the words out before I lose my nerve. "The truth."
Maggie stills beside me, and Kelly leans against the wall for obvious support, a sweat jacket wrapped around her, making her look lost and vulnerable.
"We were taken," I continue, trying hard to keep the waver out of my voice that makes its way up my throat. "Pete and I. You remember the promotion Pete got?" I wait for her nod. "He was looking into a purchase, verifying funds. You know Pete. He got… carried away. He told me about it. But I didn't think… I didn't know… the people buying, they were… cartel. They got nervous and took us. They thought Pete was… I don't know what they were thinking…"
I drift off, shaking my head. It still doesn't make sense to me. None. How could they have thought a banker… Kelly's already colorless face turns a shade grayer, and I force myself to continue.
"They took me because he didn't know anything." I keep the detail about the severed fingers out. They might already know about it from Detective Greenwald; they might not. But it's not something I want to remember. "They thought… they thought I might make him talk." My throat tightens. My chest caves in on itself. "And when he still couldn't?—"
At that, my voice breaks. I shake my head, pressing my lips together, but it's useless. The image is there. Always there.
"It was fast," I whisper. "At the end… it was fast."
Kelly makes a sound. It's not a word. Not even close. She folds in on herself like something inside her just gave way. Maggie catches her, holding on as Kelly starts to sob, raw, broken, guttural. That's all it takes. Everything I've been holding back crashes over me.
"I'm so sorry," I choke out, the words tearing out of my chest. "I'm so, so sorry?—"
I drop the mug. It clatters somewhere, but I don't pay it any attention, nor does anybody else. "I couldn't— I couldn't stop it—I tried?—"
My hands come up to my face, but it doesn't stop anything. The tears, the guilt, the suffocating weight of it all.
"I swear to you," I gasp, looking at her, forcing her to see me, to hear me, "I will find them. I will find that cartel, and I will make them pay."
The words come out sharp. Hard. Not grief any longer. It's laced with something else. Something darker. Kelly's head snaps up.
"No." The word comes out like a gunshot, making all of us wince. Rigorously, she wipes her face. "No, Audra. No more of that."
"I have to?—"
"No!" she snaps, stepping toward me. "You don't fix this by throwing yourself into whatever the hell this is!"
"I can't just?—"
"You go to the police!" she cuts in. "You talk to Detective Greenwald. You let them handle it!"
I freeze. My heart stutters.
"No," I disagree, quieter now. "I can't."
Her eyes narrow. "Why not?"
Because I don't trust them. Because I don't know who's involved. Because they might think I'm guilty. Because of Gabe. I can't tell them he was there. They will ask how I got out of there. How I know Gabriel D'Amato. Why I didn't talk to them sooner. I can't throw Gabe under the bus. He saved me.
"Other men found me," I try to explain, choosing my words carefully. "They got me out."
Kelly studies me. Too closely.
"Who?" she demands.
I shake my head. "I don't know their names."
Not a lie. I don't knowmostof their names. Silence fills the kitchen alongside the smell of the coffee. But it's not comforting. It stretches. Gets thicker and heavier. "He loved you." Kelly's words are almost an accusation and hit harder than anything else. "He loved you so much, Audra."
My chest caves.
"I loved him too," I whisper back. "I still do." Just not like I was supposed to.
