"You're all I have left . . . my last resort."
"Okay then." Remy grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. "What's brought you here, Deryn York?"
She took another sip of coffee, perhaps to fortify herself, before starting to speak.
"My daughter," she said, her eyes becoming misty. "My daughter, Zoe."
"All right," Remy encouraged her. "Take your time and tell me what happened." He was trying to make her feel comfortable; the tension was spilling off her in waves. "Are you from this area?"
Deryn shook her head. "Originally I'm from South Carolina, but we moved to Florida about five years ago."
"You and your daughter?" he probed.
"And my husband," she added, reaching for the coffee again. "We've since separated, but I can't seem to get rid of him. He insisted on coming here with Zoe and me, even though I didn't want him to."
"So you've moved here from Florida?"
"Not permanently," she quickly corrected. "I hate the cold, but I heard the best doctors are here, so I didn't really have a choice. As soon as they figure out what's wrong with Zoe, we'll go right back home."
Remy nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. "Your daughter is sick then?"
Deryn stared down into the contents of her mug. "The doctors in Florida say she's probably autistic," she explained quietly, then looked up at Remy. "But Carl wanted to be sure, and he said the best doctors are here. He's from here originally."
"Where were you taking her?"
"Franciscan Hospital for Children." She stopped, reaching down into her bag and removing a pack of cigarettes. Without even asking Remy if it was okay, she placed one between her lips and lit it with a disposable lighter.
"I can't believe how fucking stupid I was," she said, dropping the lighter and package of smokes back into her bag. "Oh, is this all right?" she asked, suddenly conscious of what she was doing.
"It's fine," Remy said, not wanting to upset her. They were finally getting someplace, and he didn't want to cancel the momentum. "Why do you say you were stupid?"
"Because I trusted him," she said angrily. "I let my guard down." Deryn feverishly puffed on the cigarette, forming a toxic cloud around her head in the too-warm office. "I wasn't feeling well, so I stayed at the hotel and let Carl take Zoe to an appointment. And that's the last time I saw them. It's been six days." Deryn choked back a sob, bringing a hand to her mouth.
"There hasn't been any contact with Carl since he took Zoe?" Remy asked.
"No," she said miserably, finishing the smoke and dropping the butt into her coffee mug where it hissed faintly.
"Have you contacted the police?"
"Yes, once I realized what the son of a bitch had done. There's a warrant out for his arrest."
"And you have no idea where he might have taken your daughter?"
"I don't have a clue."
Remy stood and grabbed his mug. "Would you like another cup? I can rinse yours out."
"No, no thanks," she said with a nervous shake of her head. "I'm good."
Remy refilled his cup and returned to his desk. "So tell me about your relationship with Carl," he began. "Was it an amicable split or . . ."
"We only stayed together as long as we did because of Zoe," Deryn explained. "We thought a baby would help us, but with her being different and all . . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked as though she had the weight of the world upon her shoulders.
"Does Carl have any history of violence?" Remy asked. "He wouldn't want to cause Zoe any harm, would he?"
"Oh no," she said quickly. "Carl really is basically a good guy. We both had kind of screwed-up childhoods, but we managed to get beyond that. We were good parents, Mr. Chandler."
"Except that Carl has taken your daughter."
"Yeah," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "But maybe if I had paid better attention, this could all have been avoided."
"Ms. York, you can't beat yourself up about—"
"I need to show you something, Mr. Chandler," Deryn interrupted, pulling her bag up onto her lap.
Remy leaned forward, curious, as
"Okay then." Remy grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. "What's brought you here, Deryn York?"
She took another sip of coffee, perhaps to fortify herself, before starting to speak.
"My daughter," she said, her eyes becoming misty. "My daughter, Zoe."
"All right," Remy encouraged her. "Take your time and tell me what happened." He was trying to make her feel comfortable; the tension was spilling off her in waves. "Are you from this area?"
Deryn shook her head. "Originally I'm from South Carolina, but we moved to Florida about five years ago."
"You and your daughter?" he probed.
"And my husband," she added, reaching for the coffee again. "We've since separated, but I can't seem to get rid of him. He insisted on coming here with Zoe and me, even though I didn't want him to."
"So you've moved here from Florida?"
"Not permanently," she quickly corrected. "I hate the cold, but I heard the best doctors are here, so I didn't really have a choice. As soon as they figure out what's wrong with Zoe, we'll go right back home."
Remy nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. "Your daughter is sick then?"
Deryn stared down into the contents of her mug. "The doctors in Florida say she's probably autistic," she explained quietly, then looked up at Remy. "But Carl wanted to be sure, and he said the best doctors are here. He's from here originally."
"Where were you taking her?"
"Franciscan Hospital for Children." She stopped, reaching down into her bag and removing a pack of cigarettes. Without even asking Remy if it was okay, she placed one between her lips and lit it with a disposable lighter.
"I can't believe how fucking stupid I was," she said, dropping the lighter and package of smokes back into her bag. "Oh, is this all right?" she asked, suddenly conscious of what she was doing.
"It's fine," Remy said, not wanting to upset her. They were finally getting someplace, and he didn't want to cancel the momentum. "Why do you say you were stupid?"
"Because I trusted him," she said angrily. "I let my guard down." Deryn feverishly puffed on the cigarette, forming a toxic cloud around her head in the too-warm office. "I wasn't feeling well, so I stayed at the hotel and let Carl take Zoe to an appointment. And that's the last time I saw them. It's been six days." Deryn choked back a sob, bringing a hand to her mouth.
"There hasn't been any contact with Carl since he took Zoe?" Remy asked.
"No," she said miserably, finishing the smoke and dropping the butt into her coffee mug where it hissed faintly.
"Have you contacted the police?"
"Yes, once I realized what the son of a bitch had done. There's a warrant out for his arrest."
"And you have no idea where he might have taken your daughter?"
"I don't have a clue."
Remy stood and grabbed his mug. "Would you like another cup? I can rinse yours out."
"No, no thanks," she said with a nervous shake of her head. "I'm good."
Remy refilled his cup and returned to his desk. "So tell me about your relationship with Carl," he began. "Was it an amicable split or . . ."
"We only stayed together as long as we did because of Zoe," Deryn explained. "We thought a baby would help us, but with her being different and all . . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked as though she had the weight of the world upon her shoulders.
"Does Carl have any history of violence?" Remy asked. "He wouldn't want to cause Zoe any harm, would he?"
"Oh no," she said quickly. "Carl really is basically a good guy. We both had kind of screwed-up childhoods, but we managed to get beyond that. We were good parents, Mr. Chandler."
"Except that Carl has taken your daughter."
"Yeah," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "But maybe if I had paid better attention, this could all have been avoided."
"Ms. York, you can't beat yourself up about—"
"I need to show you something, Mr. Chandler," Deryn interrupted, pulling her bag up onto her lap.
Remy leaned forward, curious, as
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