Pretties in Pink

12. Hallie

12

HALLIE

Prestia looked genuinely distressed, which made me feel better about my decision to share. At least he didn’t blame me for letting my guard down—twice—or try to brush off what had happened as a tall tale. When I’d gone to speak with the police in Kentucky, sixteen months after they first issued a warrant for my arrest, they’d accused me of engineering the whole “escapade” to evade charges. Black and Oliver had soon set them straight, but there’d been a terrifying moment when I thought the sergeant was going to march me straight to jail.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so sorry that the Kentucky cops treated you that way. I’m so sorry that a bunch of assholes with d***s took advantage of you in the worst possible way.”

Pinchy latched onto a familiar word. “Asshole.”

“Shhh,” I told him.

“Shut up, stupid bird.”

At least he helped to lighten a heavy moment. “I used to be real outgoing. Happy hour was my favourite time of day, and I’d make friends with anyone. But now… Now, I second-guess everything. Is that man safe to sit next to? Should I touch this drink? What if that cab driver’s a closet psychopath? I do my best to hide my nerves and act normal, and most of the time I pull it off, but then sometimes…sometimes my shields break down, and then…well, you already know what happens. Other than colleagues, you’re the first man I’ve tried having dinner with since all the problems started, and I thought it would be okay—hoped it would be okay—but it was too soon.”

Prestia met my gaze. Held it. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me your story. And one day, I’d like to take you out for dinner again, but only when you’re ready.”

I’d held the tears back for as long as I could, but his sweetness was my undoing. Salty rivulets tracked down my cheeks, and I didn’t know whether to run or hide or brave it out.

“I’m such a freaking mess tonight.”

“Normally I’d offer a hug, but I don’t suppose that’d work too well. I have a handkerchief?”

“Thank you.”

“Snack?” Pinchy asked, and a hysterical giggle burst out of my throat.

“Can he have another almond?”

“Sure.”

“I’d offer to cook you a meal, but I see how that wouldn’t work either. How about I order a pizza?”

“A pizza?” I wiped my eyes and stared at Prestia. “You want to eat pizza? I figured you’d run out the door the first chance you got.”

“I’m not going anywhere, plum. Not unless you want me to, that is.”

Did I want him to leave? When I took a moment to consider the question, I was surprised to find that no, I didn’t. Even though I was a snotty, teary wreck, I wanted Prestia to stay.

“It’s up to you.”

“What toppings do you want on your pizza?”

“I…uh…anything.”

“Why don’t you pick out a true-crime documentary while I put in the order?”

“A documentary?”

Now he wanted to watch TV?

“You look pretty much talked out to me, plum, and sitting in silence isn’t really my thing.”

How did he understand me better than I understood myself? It was a question I pondered as I nibbled on the edge of a deep-dish pizza with everything and half watched a deep dive into the psychology of the Golden State Killer. Prestia seemed relaxed, sitting next to me with his legs crossed at the ankles, focused on the TV rather than on me and my shortcomings. And slowly, slowly, the stress that had exploded from every pore earlier began to simmer down. It was unexpectedly nice having him there. Just being. As if we were two regular friends meeting up for death and dinner. And after the show had finished, Prestia deposited Pinchy onto his perch and tidied away the trash. He hadn’t struck me as the domesticated type, and yet there he was, loading our mugs into the dishwasher.

“Will you call me tomorrow?” I asked.

“About the Feinstein case? Or just call you, call you?”

“I meant about the case, but I wouldn’t object if you…you know.”

“Called to shoot the breeze?”

“Something like that?”

He stepped closer, not crowding me, but his proximity made goosebumps pop out on my arms. My feet wanted to run, but I forced myself to stand my ground the way he’d told me to earlier.

“If I asked you to move back, would you do it?”

“This makes you uncomfortable?”

“A little.”

“Try it and see.”

“Can you give me more space?”

He stepped back in an instant, and relief coursed through me. But then I steeled myself and took a pace forward, closing the distance again. When he raised an eyebrow, I gave him a tight smile.

“I can’t be scared my whole life.”

His smile was wide and genuine. “So… Do you wanna do this again?”

“You mean sob my eyes out? Or TV and pizza?”

“Maybe we could try Chinese next time? A nice show about Jack the Ripper or Jim Jones… Something light.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

I found myself wanting to, but…

“I can’t. This isn’t me blowing you off, honestly, but Mercy will be home, and she came to Richmond from the same place as me.”

“You mean the house in Florida?”

“They actually took her to the North Carolina branch, but—”

“Wait, you’re telling me there was more than one of these places?”

“It was a small chain.”

“f**k me.”

“We already established that was off the table, remember?”

Prestia scraped a hand through his hair. I’d noticed him do that once or twice when he got stressed, and the tousled effect made my heart skip in ways I couldn’t explain. Ways I didn’t want to explain.

“How many?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“How many houses? Or how many women?”

“Both.”

“Five houses. Hundreds of women, too many to count. Some died, and some were sold into private ownership, and they’re still unravelling the details. It’ll take years.”

“Sold? Like f*****g slaves?”

“Exactly like slaves. My friend Izzy, she got rescued, but she’s doing the worst out of all of us.”

“All of you?”

“Me, Mercy, Izzy, and Cora. Cora’s bounced back real well. She’s the strongest, plus she was there for the shortest time.”

“How long were you there, Hallie?”

“About fifteen months.”

Prestia slumped against the wall. “Fifteen months? Fifteen months and nobody looked for you? Nobody knew you were being held against your will?”

“The FBI knew, it turned out. But they wanted the man at the top, so they just…left us there.”

Now Prestia looked positively stricken. “They left you there? Had they lost their fuckin’ minds? Who? Who was in charge? Give me a name.”

“It’s been dealt with, okay? It’s been dealt with. And we’re doing okay, the four of us. We have homes. We have jobs. We have a support network.”

“Blackwood?”

“They’ve been there for us every step of the way.”

“How did they get involved, anyway?”

This was where I had to pick my words carefully. Blackwood protected me, and I’d always protect them.

“They were hired to find Cora, and I’d become friends with Cora while she was in the Florida house. Then, after we were freed, they kept on helping. They’re good people, despite what your colleagues might have told you.”

“I understand now why you have such a low opinion of law enforcement.”

“Cops haven’t done me any favours over the years, that’s for sure. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure why I like you.”

The tension in his frame eased. “But you do like me?”

“Maybe.”

“You do.”

“Okay, I do. And when Mercy spends another evening out, I’d love to share Chinese with you, but she doesn’t have much of a social life either. We’re both still taking baby steps.”

“If you ever feel inclined to take a slightly bigger step, you could come and visit with me on the boat. It’s too cold to sit out on deck at this time of year, but there’s a TV in the saloon.”

“That might be a step too far at the moment.”

“Figured it would be, but the offer’s there, and it’s not gonna expire.” Prestia broke into a smile. “I like you too, plum.”

I couldn’t believe I was about to ask this, but, “Is that hug still on offer?”

“I’m the king of hugs, so my niece tells me.”

Be brave, Hallie. Prestia opened his arms, and I stepped into them. Gingerly touched my hands to his back. He brushed my hair away from my face and arranged it so it hung between my shoulder blades in one smooth curtain, then wrapped his arms around me. And instead of feeling trapped, I felt…safe. Protected. I’d seen that guarding instinct when he leapt to save me from Pinchy, and now I breathed it in. The earthy scent of man with a hint of cologne. I laid my cheek against his shoulder. How long would it be reasonable to stay there?

“How old is your niece?” I mumbled.

“Five. And my nephew’s three.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Every weekend, plus evenings when I can. I’ll spend the afternoon with them tomorrow after we wrap up with Ganaway. But yes, I’ll call you first.”

“If I don’t answer right away, I’ll call you back. I’m going to go door-to-door around the Feinstein house.”

“On a Sunday?”

“As I said, I don’t have much of a social life, and Blackwood works twenty-four-seven.”

“Promise you’ll be careful. Are you going alone?”

“Not totally on my own. Dan, Knox, and Kellan will be in the area too. Somebody saw something; we just have to find them. Plus there’s a woman we want to look for. She was in three of Micah’s photos, and her head was turned in the direction of the Feinsteins.” Agatha, Mack’s sidekick, had run downstairs with her laptop to show me while Bradley was chopping the split ends off my hair. Three photos taken over the course of a minute, each with a dark-haired woman and her dog in the background. Vonnie and her mom appeared in five pictures in total, although the focus seemed to be on the sunset rather than the people meandering through the shot. “There could be an innocent explanation, but we still need to get to the bottom of it.”

Sure, she could simply have been taking the pooch out for its evening exercise, but we all knew a dog made the best cover if you wanted to perform surveillance unnoticed. Dan often borrowed one of Emmy’s pets, plus there’d been talk of adopting a departmental support dog to assist on jobs.

“It wasn’t a woman who took Vonnie,” Prestia said.

“How do you know?” I loosened my arms and pulled back far enough to look him in the eye. “Women are just as capable of evil as men are. The ring your chief was involved with—”

“If you’re talking about Garland, he was never my chief.”

“Okay, the Richmond PD’s chief, the ring he was involved with used women for some of their dirty work. And a little girl probably wouldn’t have been so scared if her abductor was female.”

“It was a man.”

“You don’t—”

“We do.” Prestia closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, he avoided looking at me. “There was a witness. f**k, there was a witness, and if anyone finds out I told you, I’ll lose my job.”

“A witness? A freaking witness?” I wriggled out of Prestia’s embrace. “There was a witness, and you’re only telling me this now?”

“Shh, shh.”

“I won’t… I can’t…” Fuming, I paced across the room. “You kept this from me. You kept this from everyone. What did they see? Did they see Ganaway? Is that why you and Duncan are gunning for him?”

“Firstly, it’s Duncan who’s gunning for Ganaway, not me. And secondly, quite apart from the fact that I’ll be unceremoniously fired if the department finds out I’m leaking to Blackwood, the witness is a terrified kid.”

“A kid?”

“Four years old. We don’t know who this guy is, or where he is, but if he sees her as a loose end…”

The fight seeped out of me. A child. Another child wrapped up in this awful affair.

“It won’t leak farther than Blackwood, I swear. Our team’s watertight.”

“Fuckin’ better be.”

I cupped Prestia’s face in my hands. “You can trust me. I promise you can trust me.”

“Okay.” He raked his fingers through his hair again, then rested his hands over mine. “Okay, but remember trust goes both ways, plum.”

It did. Prestia was absolutely right, and in two days, he’d done more to earn my trust than most men did in a lifetime. This guy wasn’t about to drop a roofie into my drink.

“What’s your favourite Chinese food?”

“Huh?”

“Answer the question, ristretto.”

He twined our fingers together and dropped our hands to his sides. “Crispy beef with steamed rice, egg rolls on the side.”

“Then that’s what I’ll bring you when I come to your boat.”

“You’ll come to the boat?”

“You said the offer was always open.”

“And it is. When do you want to come?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m having dinner with Sylvie tomorrow. My sister.”

“Monday?”

“You want me to pick you up?”

“I’d rather drive myself.”

“Then I’ll send you directions.” His voice hushed to a barely there whisper, and he trailed a fingertip down my cheek. “You’re not the only one on a roller-coaster ride, plum.”

That night, I barely slept. Prestia’s feather-soft touch still burned into my cheek like a brand, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. What was I doing? I honestly had no idea, but last Friday in the Grindhouse, when I’d laughed and flirted with a virtual stranger, I’d caught a glimpse of the girl I used to be. I liked that girl. I wanted to be her again. And if Prestia was the key to finding myself, then I wanted him too.

In the morning, I almost cracked and drank caffeine again. And maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I did? My behaviour around Prestia couldn’t have been entirely due to its effects because I’d felt that hop-skip-jump again yesterday evening.

I poured myself a mug of decaf, then jolted and slopped half of it onto the floor when the intercom buzzed. Was Mercy expecting a delivery? We never got visitors this early.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Chastain? It’s Bernie at the front desk. A gentleman just left a package here for you.”

I definitely wasn’t expecting a package.

“Did he say where it was from?”

“No, but it smells like a croissant.”

It wasn’t a croissant; it was a Danish. A plum freaking Danish. How long had it taken Prestia to find that? He’d also left a decaf cappuccino and stolen a tiny piece of my heart.

Ford Prestia, what the hell am I meant to do about you?