Page 79 of Freeing Ruby

Cartwright nods. “After interviewing the two suspects last night, taking their statements, I started putting together a timeline of events.”

“Are they still in custody?”

The detective nods. “Yes, both of them. They’ll be arraigned soon, probably tomorrow. I expect Darren will be released on bail. He’s been rather cooperative. I’m not sure about Allen Foster. He’s not cooperating. I’d consider him a flight risk given the financial mismanagement charges he’s facing in addition to a charge of attempted murder.”

Cartwright glances around the living room. “Can I speak to Miss Foster?”

I nod. “She’s expecting you. I’ll go get her. Just take it easy with her, will you? She’s had a rough time of it.”

I filled him in on her agoraphobia last night, and he seems pretty sympathetic, especially after what Ruby’s been through.

I head down the hallway and knock on her studio door. “Ruby, honey? Can I come in?”

“Yes.” Her voice is muffled.

I open the door and find her sitting at her worktable. She has a paintbrush in hand, and she’s working on a painting of a gray tabby cat. “He’s here. Are you ready to talk to him?”

She sighs. “Yes.” She slips her paintbrush into a jar of water, pushes her chair back from the table, and stands. “I might as well get this over with.”

I offer her my hand, wanting to show my support. She takes it with a forced smile, and we walk together out to the living room.

Ruby studies the middle-aged man seated on the chair beside the sofa. He has a notebook in hand, as well as a pen. When he spots us, he sets them on the coffee table and stands.

“Good morning, Miss Foster,” he says. “Thanks for agreeing to see me. I promise not to keep you longer than necessary.”

Ruby smiles perfunctorily. It’s not like she has a choice in the matter.

She and I sit on the sofa, hands clasped. I intentionally placed myself between Ruby and Cartwright, hoping that would make her feel more secure with me as a buffer between them.

“Let me start off saying I’m sorry about what you’ve been through,” the man says to Ruby. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thanks,” she says.

I squeeze her hand.

“I assume Miguel filled you in on what we discovered last night,” the detective says.

She nods. “He did.”

The detective summarizes what happened last night, what Darren revealed to me, what he’s confessed to. How Allen Foster was apprehended and questioned. “Both men are in police custody at the moment, pending arraignment.”

Ruby simply nods.

“Your father’s apartment was searched last night,” Cartwright continues. “We found a supply of the drug he directed Darren Ingles to put into your coffee. This morning, a financial forensic team raided your father’s office and confiscated his computers and documents that show the money he stole from his clients. The preliminary evidence seems pretty cut and dry, and based on previous similar cases, it looks like Mr. Foster is going to spend a long time in a federal prison.”

“What about Darren?” Ruby asks.

“Darren is cooperating with law enforcement and with prosecutors, so that will benefit him when it comes to sentencing. I think he genuinely regrets the role he played in your father’s scheme.”

Ruby tightens her grip on my hand. “Allen Foster isn’t my father.”

Cartwright winces. “That’s right. I’m sorry.”

After Cartwright takes Ruby’s statement about what happened the night she was drugged, he thanks her and stands to leave. While I walk him to the door, Ruby remains seated on the sofa, seemingly numb after hearing all over again that Allen Foster—the man she knew as her father—had attempted to kill her.

After Cartwright’s gone, I return to the sofa and sit beside her, putting my arm around her. She melts into me. “I’m so sorry, Ruby.”

She presses her face against my shoulder, but doesn’t say anything.

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