Page 85 of Feel Me

“I agree.” I adjust my position and cross my legs, knowing I need to get back to business. “Did the patrols have any luck finding Vilma, Rosana’s mother?”

“Yup. Just got the call.” She huffs. “She was cleaning someone’s house for extra money. When the local cops showed looking for her, she knew her daughter was dead.”

“Oh, God,” I say.

“I know,” she mutters, likely picturing how it all played out. “She’s at Temple University Hospital. She was admitted after she lost her shit. I know you’re going to reach out to her, but don’t plan on her sticking around. She’ll be on the first plane back to Honduras the second she’s discharged.”

“I know, I think so too.” I can’t erase Rosana’s face from my mind and I’m struggling not to picture the last few moments of her life. She must have been terrified.

I hug my body, fighting not to cry as I speak. “Vilma told me she came to this country to make a better life for her and her daughter, and this is what she gets.”

“I know,” Valencia says. “Was Rosana her only kid?”

“To my knowledge,” I answer softly. “You know, for all Vilma wasn’t a perfect mother, she loved Rosana. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”

“I can’t think about it,” she confesses. “And I don’t even have kids.”

Detective Melo pokes his head in. “Melissa, the press is ready. Declan wants to see you before he meets with them.”

Valencia and I stand and hurry down the hall, trailing detective Melo. “Are you going to meet with the press, too?” she asks me.

“No. This is all on Declan,” I respond. “I have to call the principal at Rosana’s school and make sure they have counselors in place to support the students.” My voice cracks. I’m ready to break down. Somehow, I manage to keep it together. “She was well liked. She’ll be greatly missed.”

“Yeah. She will.” She gives my arm a squeeze when we reach Declan’s office. I try to offer a smile, but it doesn’t quite come.

She and Detective Melo watch me walk in, but neither follow, recognizing we need a moment. I’m not sure what to expect. I only know it won’t be anything good.

Declan waits for me alone. He stands with his arms crossed in front of the picture Rosana made him, his anger as tangible as a punch to the stomach. I close the door behind me and carefully move toward him.

“She was just a kid,” he tells me quietly.

I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, the only tear I’ll allow dripping onto his shoulder. “She was supposed to be an artist,” he rasps. “She was supposed to get her chance and grow up and be happy. She was supposed tofuckinglive.”

“I know.”

It’s the only thing I can say.

“She was just a kid,” he repeats, staring back at the picture.

There’s a rap at the door. “Declan?” the chief calls from the hall. “The press is waiting.”

I drop my hands away and step away. Declan reaches for his suit jacket and shrugs it on, his expression so lethal I can barely stand to look at him. God, wasn’t it just last night he met with the press to accept his endorsement?

Now he faces them to discuss a little girl whose life ended too soon.

He passes me, pausing with his hand over the door knob. “Where will you be later?”

“Wherever you need me to be,” I reply.

“All right,” he says. He doesn’t tell me where he wants me, maybe he doesn’t know. He simply walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I start to clean up his desk for something to do. I can’t bring myself to leave. When I don’t do more than stack a few files, I return to my office to gather my purse and coat.

I step onto the elevator, ready to head to the parking deck when I change my mind and hit the button to the next level. I’m wearing the clothes I’d left at Declan’s apartment all those weeks ago: jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and ankle-length boots. I didn’t have time to run back to my place and change, and while it’s not appropriate attire for a press conference, this time, I’m not the one in the spotlight.

My feet move fast when the doors part and I step out onto the fourth floor. The conference room is just down the hall, but already I can hear the clicks from the cameras and the questions being thrown Declan’s way. I slip into the room packed with wall to wall people. Thankfully Valencia is standing near the door. She scoots over, making room for me along the back wall. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“There’s a state alert for four fugitives at large,” Declan says. “Law enforcement will be working around the clock to assure they’re brought in as quickly as possible.”

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