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“Open up! Police!”
My heart thunders as Holden jolts upright in bed. He turns to me, his face illuminated by the dim light of the early morning pouring through a slit in the curtains. His fingers reach for mine, grasping them tightly, communicating reassurance with a tiny squeeze. His dark eyes are wide, searching mine.
His expression morphs from confused panic into calm acceptance as he realizes that I’m not as surprised by the intrusion as he is.
He slowly pulls his arm back, my fingers instantly chilled by his lack of body heat. Tears begin forming in my eyes.
I made a mistake. I made a mistake.
“You have one minute to open up, arms behind your head!” The door rattles again, echoing the rapid pumping of blood in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll tell them you didn’t take me. I’ll tell them you saved me.” I lean toward him.
He lifts his chin slightly, his jaw firmly set in a place of defiance, the expression of a hardened man accepting his fate. He slides from the bed, still in his gym shorts as he lies face-first on the floor, hands behind his neck.
I choke back a sob, wishing I could lift his head up to press a kiss to his lips.
“Open it,” he tells me, his voice calm and cool.
I want to tell him why. I want to explain it to him. My family was worried sick, my aunt and my mother afraid for my life. They had no idea that I was completely safe, that I was cared for. I had to reach out to let them know my whereabouts. I told them where we were, reassuring my aunt that we would be home soon and see my mother. She wanted my location for her own peace of mind, but I never should’ve given it to her.
I stumble out of bed toward the door, tears already threatening to spill from my eyes.
“I’m coming!” I call out, sliding the lock and twisting open the door knob.
I lift my hands up, level with my face, as police officers and SWAT team members swarm the room. One of them stops to check on me as the others ascend on Holden, roughly cuffing him and lifting him up to his knees. He doesn’t look at me.
They sweep the room quickly, not recovering anything. I know he had a handgun at some point, but I don’t know where he stored it.
“Are there any weapons in his possession, Miss Dixon?” one of the police officers asks me. He has a thick mustache and kind blue eyes. His uniform name tag reads Hutton.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
He nods. “Your father is on the phone. He’d like to speak with you. You’re safe now.”
As strange as it is, I feel less safe now than I did when Holden said it. They lead him down the hall, and a few of the other guests poke their heads out of their room to gawk at the scene.
“He has clothes over there. Can’t he get dressed first?” I ask.
They ignore my request. I’m allowed a pair of jeans to slide on in the bathroom. They turn away as I reach for a bra to put on under the T-shirt I’m wearing.
“Someone will pack up your things and bring them into the station.” Officer Hutton gently guides me by my elbow down to the hotel lobby and into the parking lot.
Spectators are gathered around, clearly enjoying the early-morning entertainment. My palms sweat as I search for Holden, but they must have already driven him off.
“He didn’t do anything. He saved me. I want to give my statement,” I tell Officer Hutton, tears spilling down my cheeks. I wipe them away with my hands.
He turns to me, a pinch of concern in his thick brows. “You’ll be able to do that at the police station. You are safe now, Miss Dixon. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“He didn’t hurt me! He found me being kept in this cabin on his land by a man who used to work for them. He knows?—”
He opens the door to the squad car, lights flashing, before turning to me and laying a hand on my forearm. “Ma’am, you will give your official statement at the station. You can have a phone to call whoever you need—a lawyer, your parents. They’ve been extremely worried about you. We will have plenty of time to go over your story.”
I slowly blow out an exhale, trying to calm my breathing and heart rate before bobbing my head. He helps me into the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat.
My aunt’s warm embrace is followed by sniffling in my ear. “Oh, my dear. You’re here now; you’re safe. You’re safe now.”
I hug her back tightly. I understand why she did it, why she thought it was the right decision. The stale air of my father’s living room makes it difficult for me to breathe. The curtains are drawn, not a speck of dust in sight.
