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My hands closed around the bars.

Hutchins read in the same voice he'd used to explain the complaint. Flat. Exact. Letting the facts do their own damage.

"Message from Derek Kane at eleven-twelve p.m.: Proud of you for finally making the adult choice."

The wind hit the wall.

"Eleven-sixteen: Tomorrow we'll talk about what you owe me for cleaning this up."

My grip tightened.

"Eleven-twenty-one: I meant what I said. I can make this easy or hard."

He turned the page.

"Eleven-twenty-eight: Behave and your boyfriend stays free."

The fluorescent hum sharpened until it felt driven through the center of my head.

"Complaint was never withdrawn," Hutchins said. "We have no call from Mr. Kane requesting withdrawal, no amended statement, and no contact from him after filing except a voicemail asking whether you'd been arrested."

I looked at the paper.

Josie had gone with Derek, believing she'd bought me out of the cell. Sat at his table. Handed him her phone, likely. Followed whatever old rules he laid down because every minute she endured was supposed to be purchasing my freedom.

And he had sold her nothing.

The first blow landed there.

Not that she'd gone to him. I'd known.

Not that he'd lied. That was the only thing about him that stayed true.

It was her thinking the trade was working. Maybe checking the clock and thinking I was already walking out. Maybe letting him take something else from her because she believed each surrender opened the cell another inch.

The bars made a sound beneath my hands.

Hutchins looked down at them, then back at me.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"We don't have a confirmed location."

"Bozeman."

"She's no longer there."

The second blow waited half a breath.

"She spoke to Cash," Hutchins said. "It appears she's heading back."

I was on my feet harder, though I had already been standing. The bars struck my chest.

"In this."

"Yes."

"Send somebody."