Ghost nodded once, his hand on the back door handle. "Five, now. Perimeter is secure, so no more surprises. You're safe."
"Thank you," I said with genuine relief.
He inclined his head, his eyes straying to the driveway again, and then he was gone. The silence was heavy, and I choked back another sob, still holding Tessa and meeting Nan's gaze. She gave me a gentle smile, her hands still shaking. "He's very dashing."
I coughed out a laugh, rocking Tessa, who was still hiding her face in my stomach. "Nan, please."
Tessa lifted her head, her cheeks wet. "I called the police."
I framed her face, wiping her cheeks with my thumbs. "Yes, you did, honey. You did the right thing. Listen, we can't mention the good guys in black or the scary man who was just here."
She nodded, frowning. "I'm not stupid."
I choked out another laugh. "No, you're not."
"I'll say I panicked," she said, sniffing and squaring her shoulders. "It was a goat, maybe."
"Your Nan fell in the kitchen," Nan supplied instead, even as we heard footsteps outside the gate. "You thought it was a stranger."
Tessa nodded resolutely. "Okay." She sniffed, wiping her nose. "I got this."
Affection for my cousin filled my heart, and I hugged her once more as there was a knock at the front door. I set Tessa aside and opened the squeaky old door, sniffing and trying to look composed. Two officers stood on the stoop, both wearing dark navy-blue button-down shirts under their bulky vests. The shorter one, a severe-looking woman with sharply tilted eyes and a tight, black braid, took off her sunglasses and said, "Good afternoon, ma'am. We received a suspicious call from what we think is a younger member of your household."
Tessa came to stand next to me, and I gathered her against my hip, smiling tightly. "She did. We're sorry about that."
"I thought it was someone," Tessa said, and even to my ears it sounded unconvincing. "But it was just Nan."
The male cop, who was inexplicably sweaty under his short, blond buzzcut, leaned around me. I moved aside, and Nan waved from the kitchen table. "I had a tumble."
I tried not to look chagrined, but we sounded absolutely phony. I could probably hang up any far-off dreams about any of us featuring on Broadway. "She got a little spooked."
"She said there was a man in her house," the ruddy-faced, wide man clarified suspiciously.
"There wasn't," Tessa said too quickly. "It was just Nan."
The two cops bounced looks onto each of us, both with furrowed brows. The sharp woman pursed her lips. "Can I becandid? Your home was already on our radar. A stolen vehicle was found at the end of your driveway late the night before last. Would you know anything about that?"
I blinked. "No."
Both officers stared at me like I'd just confessed something. Yeah, lying was officially not my forte. The ruddy-faced officer narrowed his eyes. "Would you be willing to come to the station with us? Just to clear up a few things?"
My entire body went ice cold. I felt my Nan freeze, too, and Tessa gasped sharply. "No, she doesn't have to."
"She doesn't have to," the female officer clarified with a touch of gentleness. But to me, she gave me a granite-hard stare. "But we would appreciate the cooperation."
My world tilted on its axis, and memories of sixteen years ago swam to the surface, gasping for air. My hands shook as I set Tessa aside. "Yeah, I can go."
Nan made a wordless sound of worry, and Tessa looked like she wanted to kick the officers in the shins. "We appreciate it," the male officer said.
I tried to tell myself that it was fine. That I was innocent, and nothing would come of this. I tried to reason, as I followed them and reassured Nan and Tessa that I would be right back, that this was nothing. It was nothing. It was just a discussion, probably. And then I was in the back of a dark blue cruiser, and the walls began to close in around me.
I was trapped again. There wasn't enough air. There wasn't enough space. There wasn't any Ghost coming to get me out of this. There wouldn't be a Benjamin, either. He was gone, and I was alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
EVIE
I emerged from my panic long enough to concede that my childhood memories might have been corrupted. As I sat in the interview room, I managed to take in the gray cinderblock walls, scuffed metallic table, and the uncomfortable, plastic chairs they used to keep in my school's gymnasium. The overhead lights were garish, not dark like I'd remembered, and one of them flickered just enough to give me a headache. In fact, there was far too much light in this tiny room. My chair squeaked as I leaned back and looked warily at the thick pane of one-way glass across from me.
