“You’re okay,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry, Sarah. I should have stayed with you."
I grab his wrist. “No,” I croak. “You did it. You found me.”
He kisses my forehead, holds me until my adrenaline drains out, and I go limp.
A paramedic offers me water. I take a sip, then almost drop the cup.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” she asks.
“No,” I say, then louder, “No. Just somewhere safe.”
Michael wraps the blanket tighter, and then his coat around that.
“Let me take her,” he says to the police. “She just needs rest.”
We finally make it back to the hotel, escorted by two squad cars. Michael walks me inside, not caring what the desk clerk or the other guests think. In the room, I collapse on the bed, shivering, and he sits next to me, silent, just holding my hand.
After an hour, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Detective Cooper. He's older than I pictured, but sharp-eyed, every inch a cop. He sits at the foot of the bed and asks if I’m ready to talk.
I tell him everything I remember.
He listens, scribbling notes, then closes the book and looks at me.
“You know the second guy was an undercover,” he says. “Biker gang task force. When Dade pulled him into the job, he told him he'd gotten your location by paying off a local deputy to trace Father Michael's car. But, for lawful compliance, undercovers can’t do anything until the perpetrator acts, and so, in this case, drugged, bound, and placed you in the trunk. He played along to make sure you weren't hurt any further. It’s an ethical minefield, so he couldn’t participate; he could only gather evidence. Heused a code on his phone to alert us the first chance he got to tip us. And we tracked his phone. You got lucky.”
When Cooper leaves, Michael pulls me into his lap, rocks me until I stop shaking.
He whispers, “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Period.”
When I walk into the courtroom, a few weeks later, Dade sits at the defense table in an orange jumpsuit, shackled at the ankles, staring at me with a look that’s part hate and something worse. Something that says I still owe him.
The trial takes two days. At the end, the judge reads the verdict, "Guilty on every charge." Dade gets twenty years, with no chance of parole before half.
As we leave, Michael puts his arm around me. For once, it doesn’t feel like a rescue. It feels like a partnership. On the courthouse steps, I look up at the sharp blue sky. I grip Michael’s hand, and for the first time, the future doesn’t scare me.
We step forward, together.
One week out from the trial, Michael’s cabin is a fortress of warmth and love. We spend our days wrapped in blankets, binge-watching crime documentaries. Some nights, like this one, the rain comes down in sheets, pelting the roof so hard we have to turn the TV off and just listen. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Each roll of thunder feels like the world hitting reset.
We sit across from each other at the kitchen table, the lamplight soft and thick, bowls of cold pasta between us. He’s got the legalpad out, scribbling through his latest “life plan,” even though I told him I’m not going anywhere.
“You know,” he says, glancing up from his notes, “Cooper thinks I should apply for a job in crisis outreach. There’s a domestic violence program in the city. It pays like crap, but I’d actually be helping people. No collar required.”
I lean back, twisting the pasta around my fork. “You’d be perfect for it. Nobody listens better than you.”
He makes a face, but I see the hope in it. “I worry it’s a step down. You know—man of the cloth to public sector burnout.”
“Some steps down are actually steps up,” I say. “And I like you better in flannel than polyester.”
He grins. “Noted.”
We eat in companionable silence for a while. When he’s finished, he pours two glasses of wine, nudges one toward me with a dramatic bow, and we toast in silence.
“I keep expecting everything to collapse again,” I admit. “Like Dade will just materialize at the window, or Ma will call begging for bail money.”
He reaches across the table, folding his hand over mine. “The only thing crashing through that window tonight is a raccoon, and I’ve got a bat by the door.”
We hold hands, and for the first time, the comfort doesn’t scare me.
