Chapter 4: The Lobby

Garrow Tower had a lobby the size of a church.

The floors were white stone, and the ceiling was so high that a woman crossing it looked like a doll.

Dominic had wanted me to see his office.

He had not said so.

He had only come down to breakfast and said he didn't want to leave me alone in a house I'd known for a day.

Could I stand an hour of boring meetings?

Now I rode up to the fortieth floor in a green coat that cost more than Dwight's truck.

My curls had been brushed that morning by someone who wasn't yanking.

Jonas stood at my shoulder, so close that I felt the heat of him through the wool.

I pretended not to notice.

He pretended not to notice me pretending.

The elevator pinged at the lobby again, because Dominic had forgotten his phone.

The doors opened on a sound I knew down to my bones.

"I just want to see my daughter."

It was Marla, crying.

She stood in the middle of the white stone in her good navy coat, with a tissue pressed to her nose.

Her pearl studs shone.

Dwight was beside her, with his cap in both hands, doing his best to look like a broken man.

Brooke stood three steps back with her phone held up and the light on.

She was filming it.

Of course she was.

Around them, a crowd of Garrow staff had slowed with their coffees to watch.

"Ma'am," the security guard was saying, "if you'd like to leave a message."

"She's unwell," Marla said, loud enough to carry to the mezzanine. "Our Abigail is twenty-two and she has the mind of a child."

"She ran away on her birthday. A man here has taken advantage of her, and we are begging for our girl."

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