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I suck in a breath. “After he fired the gun, I was too scared to fight him anymore and I let him lead Brooklyn and me out to his car. From there, he drove us to the boxcar.”

“Were your hands tied in the car or once you got to the woods?”

“In the car.”

“Did he say anything to you on the way there?” he asks, not even glancing up as he writes and I shake my head.

“Just fragments of thoughts. He kept talking about the overwhelming evidence and how his father was a liar. He even started crying over his mom at one point.”

“Did you know what he was referring to?”

I nod. “Yes, Lucas told me about what happened to their mother.”

“At any point, did you try to reason with him?”

“Not really,” I answer, shaking my head. “I did try at one point but he just yelled at me to shut the fuck up and I was too worried about Brooklyn to press any further.”

He looks up. “And once he got you to the boxcar, what happened?”

“He took Brooklyn,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I remember watching Clay take my daughter from me. “And he left me on the floor while he kept ranting about evidence and his father lying to him.”

“And how long were you there before Luke showed up?”

“I’m not sure. We drove around aimlessly for a while but an hour, maybe more… like I said, I’m really not sure.”

“Did he say anything else during that time?”

I shrug. “Just more of the same.”

“What about when Smith got there? Did they talk about anything?”

My mind drifts back to just a few hours ago and the fear is as real now as it was when I was sitting on the floor of that boxcar, watching Lucas try to talk Clay down. “Clay started talking about evidence again and how their father claimed he was innocent but that he’d seen the photos. Then, Lucas told him we had to go to the police because he’d raped me.”

“How did he react to that?”

“He seemed like he had no idea what Lucas was talking about and after I told him what happened that night, he looked horrified. He called himself a monster and said he didn’t deserve a second chance before shooting himself.”

He sighs and tosses his pen down on the desk before rubbing his hand over his face and crossing his arms over his chest. “After Clay shot himself, what happened?”

“Lucas was… empty… He just kept staring at Clay’s body with this blank look on his face.” Just thinking about it breaks my heart. “I knew that we needed to call the police but no matter how much I tried to get his attention, Lucas was lost so after I freed my hands, I crawled over to him and dug his phone out of his pocket to call y’all.”

“Okay,” he breathes, nodding. “I think that’s all we need for now. The doctor at the hospital sent along his report and it all matches up with your story.”

I nod, my hands shaking. It has to be past six by now and I need to crawl into my bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

“You’re free to go. If I have any more questions, I’ll call or stop by your house.”

“Wait,” I call as he stands. “I actually have a question.”

He nods. “What is it?”

“How did Clay get the file on his mom’s murder?”

Rodriguez lets out another heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Apparently, one of the officers took pity on Clay and thought if he knew the truth, he’d be able to finally move on and get clean. She gave him everything – photos, statements from neighbors, forensic reports, court transcripts.”

“I see,” I whisper, my hands shaking from anger this time. Clay may have seen Brooklyn and me at the baby shower but learning what his father did is what pushed him over the edge. My daughter and I were in danger all because of this misguided officer.

“She’s been put on leave while we sort this all out and I promise, it will be dealt with, Miss Dawson.”