quick steps back toward the house.
âClara.â His voice stops me, and I look back. âI love you.â
âI love you.â
Now
I only get one day of reprieve before they come to bring me back to the questioning room. I brace myself as I enter. My wrists are still sore from the restraints, and the red slap across my cheek has progressed to a greenish bruise. I canât believe Meredith would hit so hard.
Connor is the only one in the room when I enter. I sag in relief and sit, absently rubbing my wrists.
âAre you still sore?â Connor asks, glancing at the motion.
I shrug. âA little.â
He sighs. âThey were only supposed to restrain you when you woke if you were out of control. I apologize for Meredithâs decisions.â
âIs she coming?â
âNo.â
I nod. Good. I hope they threw her in a small room like mine, chained down by restraints and slapped at least three times a day. A slap to go with each meal. I smile at the idea. Connor looks at me strangely, and I rearrange my features to a more neutral expression.
âHow is Glen?â I ask before Connor can ask his questions. I want to take whatever opportunity I have to gather my own information.
Connor continues looking at me for a moment, then leans forward. âHeâs fine. We told him you had some problems, but didnât mention Meredith. Itâs probably best not to bring that up.â
I agree. Guards or not, Glen would find a way to get back at Meredith for causing me harm. He does not tolerate others putting their hands on me.
âI thought weâd start easy today,â Connor says, stacking some papers and knocking them on the table to straighten them. âTo celebrate your found voice and to ease you into this.â
I give him a small smile, but inside I am a jumble of nerves. I donât know what to expect, and I still havenât worked out what Glen said. I recite the rules in my head.
No clients. No Mama and Papa. No South Dakota.
âState your name.â
âClara.â
Connor smiles. âYour full name.â
âClara Lawson.â
The smile falters. âFirst, middle, and last, please.â
I am confused. Then I picture the ID I was given for South Dakota. My brain feels like it lights up, and I laugh. âOh! Stephanie Ann Caraway.â
Now Connor looks confused. âStephanie . . . Ann . . .â His voice trails off.
âCaraway,â I supply. I look at his paper, waiting for him to write it down.
âYou have been insisting your name is Clara.â
âIt is.â
âBut you said it was Stephanie.â
âNo, my full name is Stephanie Ann Caraway. Thatâs what Glen said if anyone asked. Thatâs what it said on . . .â My mouth snaps shut. Three minutes into the conversation and Iâve almost given us away. I cringe as I imagine Glenâs reaction. He would make sure the other side of my face matched what Meredith gave me.
âOn what?â
âI forget.â
Connor sighs, more loudly this time. âClara, I thought this would be an easy question to start with.â
I want to cry. I have messed up and donât fully understand how. I place my head on the table, cooling my flaming face on the smooth metal surface. What is my name? Clara. Stephanie.
Diana.
I sit up. âCan we move to the next question, please?â
Connor purses his lips. âFine. How old are you . . . Clara?â
I ignore the pause before my name. âTwenty-three.â
âYour birthday?â
âOctober sixth.â
âHow long have you known Glen Lawson?â
âSince I was fourteen.â
âWhere did you meet?â
âDance class.â These questions are expected. I rehearsed the answers. I decide the shorter the answers, the better, but I can tell that Connor is frustrated with my lack of elaboration.
âWhere was the dance
Yolanda Wallace
C.J. Busby
Melissa de La Cruz
Anne N. Reisser
Lori Wilde
Miles Burton
Simon R. Green
Eve Vaughn
Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell
John Mantooth