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~ SAM ~

“Let’s say I believe you,” I said.

“I don’t give a fuck what you believe, because it doesn’t change what’s true.”

Funny how even men who’d never met God had an inherent indignation at being accused of something untrue. It was a pattern I’d observed countless times. The natural sense of justice instilled in every human being who ever lived.

“You should, I’m the only person she trusts right now.”

“Trusts you so much, she ran?” he grunted, then gave me a petty smile.

“She wouldn’t have run if I’d been there,” I insisted, hating telling this man anything about either of us. But I needed him to trust me. “She’s running because they’re using her to get to me. I wasn’t ever hurting her. I want to protect her. But I have to prove I’m innocent before I can do that properly.”

He sneered. “You don’t have to be in the same house to protect her. If that’s really what you wanted to do… but you’re the stalker. You know that.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what’s going on here, Gordon. ”

“Oh, right. I forgot. You got god on your side. Seems like he’s not talking about where my daughter ran though? So maybe he doesn’t exist—or maybe he just doesn’t like you?”

“See, that’s one of the many differences between you and God, Gordon. God doesn’t require a person to do everything right before He’ll protect them.”

“Don’t preach to me, I don’t need it.”

“I’m not. You said in your letter you were trying to protect her when she was young. Was that true?”

“You wait ‘til you have a daughter and you tell me.”

“I think it was. I think you knew exactly the kind of men you were bringing around her, and you were working hard to keep their hands off her. Because you didn’t want for her what you’d given to women your whole life. Am I right?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because if you actually meant what you said in that letter, then you’d want to help me right now.”

His jaw rolled. I pushed the advantage.

“I know about you, Gordon. I know the kind of racket you ran. You were a guns and money guy. Violence was a tool for you. A means to an end, not the thrill you were pursuing. Am I right so far? So I’m guessing that killing your wife had more to do with being betrayed, than getting off on the violence of it.”

His head tipped back and his expression hardened, so I hurried on.

“And if that’s true, then I’m guessing all this hustle around Bridget her whole life was because you kept people watching out for her. But the Feds thought you were trying to hurt her, right?”

His expression didn’t change.

I swallowed. “I might have an inkling about how that feels. So here’s the thing… I’m pretty sure there was one lie in that letter.”

He made a little grunt and shook his head, finally turning those glittering eyes off me, turning like he was about to get out of that chair. But that just convinced me I was right.

“I think you still have people on her. And I think maybe they know where she goes at this time of year. ”

The pause was tiny. Barely a hitch in him shifting his weight in the chair. But I caught it and satisfaction simmered in my chest.

I was right.

“If you have any clue where she is, or how I can find her, I’ll be really grateful. And I’m going to be honest with her—when I find her and help her, I’ll tell her that you helped me.”

He gave a little snort. “You might want to keep that to yourself. Seems like she doesn’t have a lot of interest in getting my help.”

“She doesn’t believe it’s what you want to do. So that’s the big question, Gordon.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you want to help her because she needs it? Or are you just trying to manipulate her to get her to do what you want?”

“You’re such a smart guy, you tell me,” he muttered.

“Nope. That’s on you. But if you want to help her, actually help her, you’ll help me. Help me find her so I can make her safe. If you’ve been following her all this time, then you know when she’s alone and scared she can do some pretty stupid stuff.”

He didn’t move or speak, but I felt him swallow a huff of amused laughter at the understatement.

I swallowed hard. “I’m worried about her. I’m worried she’s going to get reckless and get herself hurt. I want to help her—in healthy ways. Either by going myself, or by getting people to her who can help her heal so she can come back and not have to run like this every year.”

“Maybe she’s not running from the past anymore. Maybe she’s running from you , the guy charged with her attempted murder. You thought of that?”

“No. Doesn’t even cross my mind—because I’m innocent, Gordon.”

“So you say.”

“Yes, I do.”

His tongue slid into the inside of his cheek as he considered what I’d said. The problem was, he was a power-broker. This was a man who’d spent his entire life working to stay on top, no matter where he was. He’d killed for his pride. For revenge. For money .

That wasn’t someone who did stuff out of the goodness of his heart. Not usually. Not unless…

“Are you really dying, Gordon?”

His expression went flat. “What do you think?”

“I think so.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because… I don’t know how long you’ve got, or how long she’ll be gone. But… what if this is your last chance to take care of her?”

He turned his knees back under the table then, sliding his elbows over the table and leaning in, his eyes glinting.

“See, your whole argument here is that you’re going to help her. But how do I know you’d do it? How do I know you aren’t the problem?”

“Because if you’ve been following her, you’ve already got reports on me and you know what I do and don’t do. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think I didn’t need to be dancing for you when I got in here, because you already knew. That’s why you agreed to see me. And maybe because you were hopeful that I had something for you. From her.”

He shook his head slowly. “The difference between you and me is you still think there’s other people in this world who should be trusted.” He leaned in harder, bending over the table. “I don’t. I know if I want something done right, I need to do it myself.”

I took the plunge. Made myself vulnerable to him. “This would be you doing it, Gordon. I’m at a loss. I have no clue where she is. And the people around her either don’t know, or don’t care. They’re just expecting her to show back up when she’s done. And I think that’s bullshit. Helping someone isn’t just leaving them to walk through the darkness alone. It’s walking with them until they’re able to see the light again. That’s what God did with me. And it’s what I want to do for Bridget.”

His upper lip curled back in a sneer. “Jesus Christ, are you going to offer me a promise ring next?”

I stared at him. But he wasn’t done.

“Why should I help you?” he asked, half-amused, half-incredulous. “What’s in it for me? ”

“If you cared about her, you’d wonder what was in it for her, instead of you,” I growled through my teeth. “I’m not offering you a thing, Gordon, except to know the truth that the moment you had an opportunity to make a positive difference in her life, you did it.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at me. So I tried one last time.

“Either you know where she is, and you’ll help, or you don’t, or won’t. Which is it, Gordon?”

“You tell me, you’re the stalker.” His malicious grin widened. “The pervert priest.”

“Okay, we’re done,” I said, so frustrated I could easily have killed the guy myself. I knew what this place did to a person, the lack of trust it created. The easy betrayal and self-serving nature of everything that happened here. But still. I guess I’d held out hope that he’d be willing to help her. Because I felt the disappointment like a blade in my stomach. I stood up and beckoned through the window behind me to the guards who immediately began the process of unlocking the door.

“Going so soon, Sam? Mad that your god didn’t work out every little detail for you?”

I shot him a look and all my old urges—to get aggressive, and physical, and force his hand—came surging to the surface. He saw it and his eyes gleamed. But instead of giving in and shoving that heavy table up and over to crush his old, frail, poorly-healing body, I just leaned on the top so our faces were only inches from each other.

“You’re serving yourself right now—and she’s the one who’s going to hurt for it. I love her. I was never going to hurt her. And I won’t now. I’m innocent of those charges. She knows it, and I do too.”

“We’re all innocent, haven’t you heard?”

It was a running joke in the prison—if you listened to our lawyers, there had never been a larger group of innocent men gathered in one place.

“Except, I am,” I growled. “I wasn’t before. I did the things that put me here. I own that. Then I did my time—and I changed. God changed me.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes, but I leaned in again .

“See, Gordon, that’s why I have trouble believing you feel remorse. I’m telling the truth—just like you said. Who’s scared of a little truth? Guilty people.”

“Yeah, yeah—all you god guys say that shit. I’ve heard it before.”

As the guards came in and put his cuffs back on, I dropped back into my chair, so frustrated I could have screamed. I knew he knew something. But Bridget was right: he was just a power hungry manipulator who got off on getting reactions out of people. And dammit, I’d given him one.

I sat there, shaking my head at myself and praying for wisdom because I needed something. But once the room was clear and I was told I could leave, I was still no closer to figuring out how to find her. And moving when I didn’t know where I was going would only get me slammed back behind bars. I couldn’t be stupid about this.

I just needed something.

But there’d been so little light behind those walls for so many years… it wasn’t getting any brighter now.

I got out of there as fast as I could, shaking off that niggling fear that they were trying to trick me and lock me back in.

Where are you, Bridget?

Where the fuck are you?