Page 34 of Deny Me
Probably not for long. Drugs and shopping had a way of draining a bank account fast, and they’d had a year of it already.
“Okay. I have a friend I want you to talk to. We’re going to set up a secure place, and then we’re coming to get you. Got it?” At this rate she might be setting up a safe house for a lot more than Becky and Violet. Luckily Violet was eighteen, so there were none of the legal concerns they had with Becky. “Violet?”
“Got it.”
The relief in those quiet words poured through Charlotte too. “King?”
King cleared his throat and introduced himself, then set about getting the details they needed. Charlotte would contact Violet as soon as they had everything in place. They set up a time to call for more arrangements, a time when Violet’s parents wouldn’t be at home, then said goodbye.
Charlotte threw the pen she was holding across the room. The ping it gave as the metal cracked against the wall wasn’t near satisfying enough. She whirled away from the desk with her next breath, pacing toward the back window.
Moments later a warm presence stopped behind her. King’s hands gripped her arms, steadying her as she silently fell apart. No words, no arguments. He simply stood and let her seethe. Let her rage boil futilely beneath the surface, shaking her body from the bones out. Someone—or more than one someones—had done this. They’d come into the haven she’d built and torn away the safety she sought so hard to give. They’d destroyed her word, maybe not with every woman, but even one…
“This is a fucking nightmare,” she muttered, planting her fists on either side of the window.
“We’re going to fix it, Charlotte, I promise.”
She shouldn’t count on his promises, but what choice did she have? These women had no one. They’d been victimized by someone close to her, and whatever it took, she would make it right.
Breaking away from King’s hold, she returned to her desk. They had to make a plan. As she took her seat, the list of maybes she’d made snagged her eye. She picked up a new pen and wrote Violet Nelson’s name at the bottom, then realized…
“King…”
His jaw was hard, his eyes inscrutable as he rounded the front of the desk to stand before her. “Yeah?”
She dropped the pen on the desk’s scarred surface. “I know what it is,” she said. “The connection between them—I know what it is.”
Chapter Sixteen
“We work with several hospitals in the area, including Fulton County Memorial,” Charlotte explained.
King glanced at the list she was tapping with the end of her pen. The thought of the first one sailing across the room, the way Charlotte shook with rage beneath his hands, sparked a need to make all this right—for the women who’d been hurt, definitely, but he couldn’t deny that it was mostly about Charlotte. Helping her. Taking care of her.
Just like any client, right?
He cleared the denial from his throat and refocused on the list. “So you think these girls came from Fulton County Memorial?”
“Not all of them, but most of them,” Charlotte agreed. “We don’t know for certain which ones might be victims, but…”
“Charlotte,” Saint said, joining them at the desk, “you know not all of these women were forced into this. Violet and Becky, yes, but you have to face the fact that the story may not be the same for everyone.”
An identical warning had been circling the back of King’s mind, but he hadn’t been able to push it past his lips. The pained stare she aimed at Saint made him wish they could take it back, but Saint was right, she had to prepare herself.
Charlotte blinked, and the next instant her body straightened, shoulders going back, muscles tightening with determination and a glint of her previous anger. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes. For right now, we have a connection to investigate.”
She was tough; he’d always known that. “How does the hospital send you references?”
“Not the hospital, per se. They have a support group for single mothers”—she began opening drawers, riffling through her desk—“where they present a variety of options to assist the women who come to them. If any of the women express an interest in adoption, the program gives them our information so they have a contact, can find out about the process, etc. Several area hospitals have similar groups, mostly run on a volunteer basis. Many of them are headed by nurses.”
She gave up her search and reached for the phone on her desk, probably to contact Vicky for the information they needed. King’s hand stayed her grip on the receiver.
“We need as few people to know about this as possible,” he reminded her, watching as realization, then grief washed across her face. She automatically turned to her team for assistance just like he did, but right now she couldn’t trust the very people she relied on. The pain of that truth couldn’t be easy to accept.
Charlotte pulled her hand away. Cleared her throat. “Of course.” She stood. “I know where the information should be. I’ll be right back.”
King nodded, watching her stiff body as she rounded the desk and walked from the room.
His gaze shifted away from the door—and hit Saint’s.
