Page 99 of Creed
“Lower your voice. Chrissy is in her room.” I lifted my chin, and even though my eyes were stinging, I refused to shed a single tear. He was glaring at me with rage in his eyes, but I didn’t back down. Instead, I pushed him even further. “It must be exhausting. All the lying and manipulating.”
“You were the first one on the scene that night,” I said, letting the words hang in the space between us.
“Of course, I was.” His jaw tightened. “I was your husband. I was worried something happened to you.”
“Why would you think that?” I pushed. “You had no reason to worry. It was just a routine check.”
“It was a bad area.”
“Yeah, it was.” I tilted my head. “And you came because you were making sure I was okay?”
“We’ve been through all this. What are you trying to get at?”
“What happened when you first arrived on the scene? What happened during those thirty minutes that weren’t logged in your report?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your camera footage and your call logs don’t match up.”
His eyes flickered, just for a second, and I knew I’d hit the mark. “I was taking care of you, Devin. You were hurt.”
“What happened to the girls?” My voice was calm, almost gentle.
“What?”
“The girls, Brian. What happened to them? Where did you take them? Where did they take them?”
“They were already gone.”
“You can do a lot in thirty minutes,” I pushed. “You could’ve taken care of the camera footage. You could’ve helped those men escape. You could’ve helped them move the girls.”
“I was making sure you were okay.”
“What did you do, Brian?”
“This is insane.”
“What happened to the girls?”
“I was trying to help you!” His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer. “I’m the only reason you walked out of there that night. They would’ve killed you if I hadn’t told them you were off limits.”
My heart stopped, but I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t dare breathe.
“Who, Brian?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Who did you tell?”
“Goddamnit. You have no idea what you’ve done.”
Panic flickered across his face, and the silence that followed was deafening. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His eyes darted toward the hallway where the kids’ rooms were, and before I could react, he turned and stormed inside.
“Brian,” I shouted, chasing after him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking Chrissy, and I’m going to get Austin.”
“You can’t do that,” I argued, but he was already yelling at Chrissy to open the door. When the door remained locked, herammed it with his shoulder, busting it open before charging inside. “Brian, don’t do this!”
Chrissy’s eyes grew wide when her father knelt and scooped her up in her in his arms. “What’s going on?”
