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The man standing behind Quinten pulled her gaze away and stepped forward. “I’m Warden Jonathan Roscoe.”
Saige nodded, afraid to talk in case she burst into tears.
“As you probably imagine,” the warden continued, “I don’t usually meet with visitors, but I was curious about this meeting. You’re the victim, but wanted to meet with Quinten. We get this occasionally, but I’ve always wondered as to Quinten’s guilt.”
That got Quinten’s attention as he turned abruptly to stare at the warden before his gaze landed back on Saige.
“I know about your memory loss, but I have to ask you, is Quinten guilty, Ms. Lockwood?”
Saige ignored the tears that had started to run down her face, and shook her head, while her gaze stayed on Quinten. “No. Since I saw Quinten on TV—twelve days ago—I’ve been getting bits of my memory back. The man who took me had slim, white hands. No markings. Quinten’s hands were”—she glanced at his hands—“and still are, large, and he has the vine tattoos that wrap around his two middle fingers.”
The warden didn’t seem surprised. “Have you told anyone else? The governor?”
“Yes.” Saige wiped at her tears. “Detective Robinson, and Daniel Sterling, Quinten’s defense attorney. He’s writing a report for the governor to request a stay.”
Saige held her pleading eyes on the warden. “Can I...can I please move closer to Quinten.”
The warden looked between them, and just when she thought he’d refuse, he nodded. “For a minute, but Quinten stays seated.”
She nodded, and slowly stood on legs that she wasn’t sure would hold her up. Quinten didn’t move, but watched her intently as she approached.
When she was within touching distance, Saige dropped to her knees and reached for his hands. She slowly caressed over his tattoo on the back and felt his quiver in response. Her eyes moved back to his face that was covered with tears.
Her tears flowed freely as she reached up and cupped his bearded jaw. He leaned into her touch and, with her other hand, threaded her fingers through the soft hair of his beard. “I remember doing this,” she whispered, her vision going blurry with tears. “I remember.” Her hand slipped from his jaw to the nape of his neck as she leaned closer, her other hand grasping his.
Quinten dropped his forehead and Saige could see the fight going on inside of him. She knew he didn’t want to break down…knew that he wanted to reach for her like she was reaching for him. Then his watery eyes met hers. “I love you, Saige. Don’t ever forget how much I love you. Promise me.”
Saige had no fight left in her and sobbed at the desperation behind Quinten’s words. “I love you too, and I promise I won’t ever forget how much you love me...but you have to promise me that you won’t give up. We’re trying to get you a stay, and Alex and Coulter both think that we have enough to put doubt on your original trial to get a new one. We’re trying.”
“I’m sorry to do this,” the warden interrupted, “but Quinten needs to be escorted back to his cell.”
How was she supposed to let go of him? Even without all her memories of their time together she felt the connection that had obviously been there before.
“Saige,” Coulter lifted her to her feet, but Quinten kept a tight hold on her hand, as though he couldn’t let her go either.
When Quinten stood, Saige leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close, her face buried in his neck. “I’ll be back. I promise.” She raised her face to his and placed a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you.”
“It’s time,” the warden interjected.
She felt Coulter behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Quinten, her fingers reaching to hold on to him even as he was led out of the room.
“Saige, you have to calm down.” Coulter turned her to face him and cupped her cheeks. “Look at me. Now, Saige.” She met his concerned eyes, her sobs slowed at the urgency in Coulter’s tone. “That’s better. Listen to me. You need to calm down before the warden refuses you entry again. Do you hear me? He can do that.”
The shock of Coulter’s words penetrated and her sobs turned to hiccups as she took the tissue from him.
“I’m okay.” She sniffled, and turned for the door.
“You’re not,” Coulter mumbled. “But I’ll accept that until we get out of this place.”
* * *
12:10pm
* * *
Quinten stopped outside of the room and stumbled into the wall. The guard went to move him along but the warden stopped him.
“Give him a minute.”
