Chapter 5: The Drive

Dominic reached the lobby moments after Marla finished whispering.

He took one look at my face and put his body between us without a word.

Then Jonas had Dwight by the elbow and Brooke by the phone.

A security guard I had never seen walked all three of them toward the revolving doors.

"This isn't over, Abigail," Marla called, once, pleasantly, for the cameras.

The doors turned.

They were gone.

Dominic's hands hung at his sides, shaking.

"What did she say to you?"

"Nothing I believe," I said.

It was a lie, and a bad one.

"I need my papers," I said. "My birth certificate. Anything she's kept."

"If she's lying about who my mother was, she's got something in that house that proves it either way."

"Abby, I'll send someone."

"No." I looked up at him. "Me."

He looked at Jonas.

"Drive her," he said. "Marla's staying at the Hampton in the Loop until Abby answers. Dwight's heading home. Stay close."

"I always do," said Jonas.

We pulled onto Elm Street at four in the afternoon.

The house looked exactly as it always had.

It had gray siding and a plastic Santa already out on the lawn, because Marla liked to be early.

Dwight's truck sat in the drive.

I got out.

My knees felt like water, but my boots hit the walk in a straight line.

Dwight stood in the open front door, filling it, with his cap pushed back and a beer in one hand.

"You've got a nerve," he said.

"I'm here for my papers."

"You're not coming in my house."

"I'll be quick."

"You're not coming in."

I stepped up onto the first stair.

He put the beer down on the rail with a very slow, careful hand, and I knew that movement.

He caught my upper arm, the bruised one, and hauled me up into the doorway so hard that my teeth clacked.

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