She jerked awake with his name on her lips, her heart aching.
The cell was still bright. Still cold. Still wrong.
Hannah pulled the blanket tighter, watching shadows move past the small window in the door. Any one of them could be Jake. Any moment, he could appear with that crooked smile and gentle hands and reasonable explanation for why he hadn't come sooner.
She just had to wait.
Just had to trust.
Just had to believe that the man who'd made her feel safest in the world hadn't been the one to destroy it.
The lights buzzed.
The shadows moved.
Jake didn't come.
CHAPTER 7
Jake
The room smelledlike coffee gone cold and stale regret.
Jake stood behind the one-way mirror, arms crossed, shoulders tight with tension. He told himself he was just doing his job, just seeing the case through. But the moment his eyes landed on Hannah, sitting at the metal table, everything inside him turned to ash.
She looked small.
Her arms were folded across her chest, fingers gripping her elbows like she was trying to hold herself together.
She was still in her bakery clothes—a soft, butter-yellow shirt, flour-dusted jeans, the kind of outfit that belonged in a warm kitchen, not in a cold interrogation room.
Her hair looked messy. Strands had come loose from where she'd tied it back, falling into her face.
Had they been rough with her?
The thought sent a vicious coil of rage through his stomach. He wanted to punch something. Someone. Himself.
Hannah flinched when the door opened.
Martinez strode in, her movements crisp, professional, detached. Hannah's head snapped up, confusion flashing across her face.
Jake felt it through the glass—the way she was searching for answers, for something that made sense.
But she wouldn't find it.
Because nothing would ever make sense again.
Martinez didn't waste time.
"State your name and date of birth for the record."
Hannah's fingers dug into her arms. "Hannah Elizabeth Everett." Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard. "March fifteenth."
Martinez slid a thick folder across the table. "Do you recognize these accounts?"
Hannah stared at it, then slowly reached forward.
Her hands were trembling.
