Page 71 of I Am Salvation

But he just gave me the information I needed. He is the person who had Griffin all these years. He kept her alive. Perhaps he’s feeling some remorse. Especially now that she’s gone. In his own warped way, he cares for her. Maybe he’s feeling some kind of guilt, which is why he went to the trouble to contact me. And why he doesn’t want a PI involved. He’s afraid of being caught. Maybe he wants Griffin to be able to go back to her regular life now. But he’s not too keen on going down for the part he played in her abduction.

But I’m giving a lot of good qualities to some stupid degenerate who probably stole my sister from her room. Who probably tried to do it the first time and ended up cutting her when she screamed, which alerted me.

I want to accuse him of all these things. I want to shove myself through the phone line and beat this man to a pulp.

But I must keep my cool. If he stops talking, I’m sunk.

I draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to be cool.

“I miss her so much,” I say. “Do you miss her too?”

No response. But at least the line hasn’t clicked dead.

“Help me find her. Please.”

“I’ve done all I can…”

“That’s not true. You can help me find her. Help her reunite with the only family she has left.”

He doesn’t respond. Minutes pass silently, but the call still doesn’t end.

When he finally speaks, his voice is no louder than a whisper.

“When you do find her, tell her that her daughter needs her.”

Chapter Twenty

Diana

“I can’t,” Mrs. Locke says. “I can’t relive it.”

I wave the Ben Franklin in front of her. “I’m not trying to get you to relive a horrible experience, Mrs. Locke. I’m not throwing this money around to hurt you.” I kneel in front of her, force her to look me in the eyes. “But let me be honest with you about something. I’m in love with your son. He doesn’t know it, and if he did, he’d probably go running. Because of what you did to him”—I poke her in her shoulder—“he doesn’t think he’s worthy of love. Out of guilt for everything, he’s trying so hard to find his little sister. Find out what happened to her. At least give him that. You gave him away all those years ago. Put him through hell. Please… If you truly loved your children the way you say you did at one time, help him now.”

She takes another sip of her coffee and then clears her throat. “Someone got in through the window of Griffin’s room. That’s how it happened the first time too.”

“So you acknowledge that. You acknowledge that it wasn’t Dragon’s fault.”

She busts out an exasperated sigh. “What would you have thought? What would you have thought when you came into your daughter’s room and heard her screaming, blood running down her cheek, soaking her pajamas, and the only clue as to what happened is your son holding a knife from your own kitchen? What would you have thought?”

“Wasn’t the window open?”

She closes her eyes, runs her hands over her weathered face. “I don’t know. Maybe it was. But what would you have thought, Ms. Steel?”

I draw a breath. I try to keep calm. Because if I attack this woman, she won’t give me what I need. “He was crying. He said he didn’t do it.”

“But he was holding a bloody knife. A bloody knife from our own kitchen.”

“Had Dragon ever shown any aggression toward his sister before that night?”

She doesn’t answer.

It doesn’t matter. I already know the answer.

“What precautions did you take after that night?” I want to add, “Other than sending your son away,” but I tamp the impulse down.

“We put a lock on her window.”

“Why didn’t you move?”

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