He wiped his face. “Fuck.”
He didn’t say another word for several seconds, and I tried to figure out what had shaken him this badly, how ugly things could be behind that door ahead of me.
“Go look for yourself,” he said, nodding toward it. When I didn’t move, he said, “Please … go.”
I held in my breath as I walked toward the door, pausing before I reached it to get control of myself. Seeing Rivera crack wasn’t something I had been prepared for. This was hard enough, and to keep myself emotionless was even more challenging. But he had put me in a headspace I needed to get out of, so I took the little time I had to set myself straight, and then I turned to the entrance.
An officer was kneeling next to the victim, tending to her while her face was pointed to the floor, hair covering most of it. Her condition and cell were just like the previous two—deplorable, filthy—and her clothes and feet were covered in muck.
I reached into my back pocket, taking out my wallet and opening it to my badge. “I’m Detective Flynn,” I said to the girl. “We’re here to help you, and we’re going to bring you home.”
She gradually looked up at the sound of my voice, her hair parting, her eyes showing through the few greasy strands that stayed.
I took in their size.
The shape of her thin face.
Lips that I could never forget.
There was no mistaking who I was seeing.
I heard myself gasp, reaching for the doorway, needing something steady to hold on to as my heart launched into the back of my throat. A pain shot through my stomach, another inside my chest. My entire body shaking as I whispered, “Pearl …”
Sixty-Two
Before
Pearl
The ache was still in my heart when I woke up the next morning, knowing I was about to go on this trip to New York alone. Fear was threatening to hold me hostage, but I knew it was something I had to push through, especially because Manhattan would soon be my new city. The place where I’d be moving Gran and getting steady work, where every one of my dreams was going to come true.
Getting on that bus in two hours was going to be the start of something much larger, something wonderful.
A whole new life.
But it was also when Ashe and I would be living in two different worlds.
The love I had for that man would somehow keep us whole. It could take several acts and a residency, but we would find our way back to the same city one day. By then, I hoped it would be in a shared apartment.
In the meantime, the way I had left his place last night felt terribly wrong. I didn’t want to start my vacation that way. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and hold him in my arms and kiss his handsome face.
I couldn’t do those things over the phone.
It had to be in person.
So, once I was showered and dressed, I grabbed the duffel bag I had packed my things into, and I went into Gran’s room. I knelt next to her bed, my lips close to her ear to ensure she could hear me.
“Gran …” I waited for her eyes to open, for the grogginess to settle a little before I continued, “I’m getting ready to leave. I just wanted you to know I left you dinner in the fridge for each night I’ll be gone. Your cereal is already poured for breakfast; you just have to add milk. The tea bag is in a mug right next to it.”
“Thank you, dollface.”
“I left the name and number of the hotel on a piece of paper on the table. I’ll be back Monday afternoon. I love you.”
“Love you too, baby. Good luck, and have a good time.”
I leaned into her face, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, the scent of the baby powder so strong when she was in bed.
I pushed myself off the carpet and grabbed my jacket on the way out. I rushed down the flights of stairs and into the coldness of the early morning, the wind wrapping around me the moment I stepped outside. I wasn’t normally out at this hour—six was even early for me—but I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to stop at Ashe’s and still make it to the bus several minutes before it was scheduled to depart North Station.
The nice thing about Roxbury this early in the morning was the quietness. The only sounds were my own footsteps and breathing and the soft whistle of the wind. The dark, cloudy sky hung over me, holding me like a hug—Boston’s way of keeping me in until I soon pulled myself out.
At the crosswalk, I turned the corner, the train station now only a few blocks up ahead. If I kept up this pace, I would even be able to fit in some snuggle time. And I wouldn’t even have to wake him to get in; fortunately, I knew where they hid a spare key, so I could keep this visit a surprise.
That thought brought a smile to my face, knowing how happy he would be when I woke him with a kiss.
I picked up my speed a little and was just adjusting the strap of my bag, the duffel incredibly heavy on my shoulder, when I heard my name spoken from somewhere close to the street.
I was sure it had been in my head. I saw no movement, and there was no other sound.
I ignored it and kept going until I heard it again, a tone that was deep, gritty, immediately slicing through my thoughts.
My feet halted as a man stepped onto the sidewalk, through the darkness of two vehicles parked along the curb.
“You are Pearl Daniels, aren’t you?” A tool belt hung from his waist, the van behind him telling me he was here to repair something in one of the buildings.
“Yes,” I answered. “How do you know that?”
His arms crossed, and his back leaned into the van. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t startle you. I just went to your play a few weeks ago, and when I saw you under that light”—he pointed at the streetlamp behind me—“I instantly recognized you.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “You are the lead actress for BU, aren’t you?” When I nodded, he grinned and scratched his bald head. “That’s what I thought. My wife and I are huge fans. We’ve seen every performance you’ve been in for the last couple of years.”
“Wow.” The wind was whipping even harder, and I pulled my jacket closed, shifting the strap of the bag to a spot that didn’t ache. “Thank you … I’m flattered.”
“No, I should be thanking you.” He unbuttoned the wrist of his long-sleeved flannel, rolling the cuff up to his elbow. “It’s quite an honor to have someone from my hometown be as talented as you. You’re going to make it on the big screen someday soon—I feel it.”
I smiled and waved, my time extremely limited; therefore, I kept walking and said over my shoulder, “I sure do hope so.”
I wasn’t more than a few paces away when I heard, “Can I get you to sign something for my daughter?” I turned around as he opened the door to the van, where he pulled out a notebook and pen. “She’s seven, and she’s been coming with us to your plays.” Now that I’d stopped, he closed the gap between us, reaching forward to give them to me. “She would be so grateful. Hell, it’ll make her whole year when I tell her I ran into you.”
I’d been asked for my signature a few times, each instance from a kid who had come to see one of our performances. It was a humbling experience, and this was no different. “Of course.” I took the pen and paper into my hand. “What’s your daughter’s name?”