Her mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “Mercedes-Lennie on the city bus. Now that might be fun to watch.”
“Just say the word.”
She laughed, then pointed to the digital clock on his dash. “Didn’t you say the interview was supposed to start about now?”
He noted the time and grimaced. “Hopefully a couple of minutes won’t make them change their minds. You sure you want to do this? You can drop me off and pick me up when I call.”
“I’ve never wanted something this hard in my life. I’ve been in limbo for years. If you can help me end that, put this monster in prison once and for all, it will make all the difference. I can handle it. I promise.”
He wasn’t nearly as optimistic as she seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to argue with her. If she wanted to be a part of this,as far as he was concerned, she had every right to be. Because it was her life and all about making her feel safe again.
“It’s that gray-blue stucco over there, two houses down. Close enough to walk but with my hip, I’m going to be lazy and drive the last fifty yards.” Once they were parked in the driveway, he grabbed his briefcase from the floorboard behind her seat.
Unlike at her parents’ home, she didn’t wait for him to open the door. He silently cursed his hip for slowing him down. But there was no way he could go even one more step without his cane. He hefted it from the back seat and limped after her, pain his constant companion.
He’d pushed himself harder today than any day since he’d been shot. And it showed. His hip was so stiff and ached so much that he was running more on willpower than physical strength. And after that little stunt that he and Teagan had just pulled in his car, he was practically a cripple. But he’d grit his teeth and keep going, somehow. At least until this interview was over. And the moment he reached his hotel room he was going to collapse on his bed, down some painkillers and not move until morning.
At the door, he rang the doorbell then started when Teagan clutched his right arm.
“Teagan—”
“Don’t fuss at me. I’m not flirting, Bryson. Just give me a second.”
He noted the stress lines around her eyes, the ashen gray tint to her brown skin. He wanted to take her hand in his, offer his strength. But he didn’t have any to spare. If he let go of his cane he was afraid he’d fall down. All those times he’d blown off a rehab appointment were really coming back to bite him.
“It’s okay, you’ve got this.” He offered a reassuring smile. “We’vegot this. We’re a team, together. I’m here for you, all right? Trust me.”
She blew out a shaky breath and nodded just as the door opened.
A woman stood there, looking even more stressed than Teagan, her face so pale it was shockingly white in the dimly lit foyer.
Bryson lamely nodded rather than hold out his right hand since it was currently clutching his cane so he could remain upright. “Mrs. Broderick, it’s nice to meet you in person. I’m Bryson Anton. This is Teagan Ray. Is this still a good time to speak with you and your husband about Teagan’s abduction two years ago?”
“Of course.” Her gaze darted from one to the other, then behind them before she stepped back. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.” Without waiting, she turned and strode through the long, dimly lit foyer away from them.
Bryson hesitated. “It seems as if this impending interview is far more upsetting to Mrs. Broderick than I’d expected. Maybe you should wait in the car.”
“No way. I don’t want to blow my chance. If I can’t handle the emotions of this first interview, you won’t let me go to the ones tomorrow. I’ll be okay. You’ll make sure of it. We’re a team. That’s what you said. Right?”
He regretted agreeing to take her with him for so many reasons. But they couldn’t stand here waiting and make the Brodericks think they’d changed their minds. He motioned for her to step inside. She gave him a tight smile, and they started down the foyer together.
Mr. Broderick’s deep voice sounded from the family room that was just visible through the arched opening a few feet away.
Teagan gasped and stopped.
He turned to see what was wrong. Her eyes were opened wide, a hand pressed to her mouth. She looked absolutely terrified.
“Teagan? What’s wrong?”
“That v-voice,” she croaked, obviously struggling to push any sounds out. “Hisvoice.”
Bryson swore as understanding dawned. He dropped his cane and clawed for the pistol holstered at his waist as he struggled to turn around without falling. White, hot pain exploded in his head and his hip crumpled beneath him. Teagan’s scream was the last thing he heard as everything went dark.
Chapter Twelve
Teagan stood frozen, the horror of what was happening—again—seeping into her bones like leaden concrete, anchoring her in place. Her pulse hammered in her ears, blocking out the sounds around her. It was as if her mind had separated from her body and all of this was happening to someone else.
Bryson. Sweet, wonderful Bryson lay dead at her feet, his dark hair matted with blood. She’d only caught a glimpse of his battered body before jerking her gaze up toward the man who’d hit him, fully expecting the next blow from the baseball bat to land on her. Even so, she couldn’t raise her arms to defend herself. She. Couldn’t. Move.
