In This Together

“I’m back.” It was Travis’s voice. She slumped with disappointment even as her heart lifted slightly. It was really odd, but despite everything, she still felt sympathetic to Travis’s cause—more than when she’d first listened to his story. Was this what they called Stockholm Syndrome, when a hostage started to feel affection for her captor? Surely it wouldn’t happen this quickly.

“Hey,” she yelled. “Are you going to feed me? Because I skipped lunch. While I was supposed to be eating lunch, I was trying to get you some time with Daniel.”

“And I appreciate that. Really, I do,” he said. “I’ll get you something to eat. Sorry, I hadn’t even thought about food. I guess when your stomach is tied up in knots you don’t notice if you’re hungry or not.”

“Well, I do. And I’m hungry.”

“I’ll see what the people who lived here left behind in the way of food.”

Great. It sounded like she was in for a tasty meal of stale saltines, and maybe a can of cold soup if she was lucky. Travis didn’t seem the type who could whip up a four-star meal out of nothing.

She waited a long time. She stood, she sat, she recited poetry to herself, verses memorized years ago in school. “Listen, my children, and you shall hear...” When she ran out of poems, she paced the bathroom, counting the steps from one end to the other and back, and then multiplying by each circuit she made. How long did it take to check the pantry? Maybe he’d gone out for fast food.

She was almost to five thousand steps when an incredible smell reached her nostrils. What was that? Oregano? Garlic?

Travis tapped on her door. “I brought some food.”

“Are you waiting for me to give you permission to enter?” she asked incredulously. “I’m a prisoner, not a princess.”

“Just because I’m a kidnapper doesn’t mean I don’t have any manners.” He opened the door and entered the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him, but at that moment she probably wouldn’t have run even if she could have. She wanted to know what was on the tray, covered by the dishcloth. It smelled amazing.

He looked around, trying to figure out where to set it down.

“On the vanity,” she suggested. Earlier, she’d found a sponge and some bathroom cleaner under the sink and had given the place a thorough scrub. If she was going to be held prisoner, at least her cell would be clean. “What is that?”

“Lasagna.”

“Like, a store-brand frozen-dinner kind, or the homemade kind that someone froze the leftovers?”

“Does it matter? I already had a taste of it. It’s not half-bad.” He set the tray down on the pink marble vanity and whisked the cloth off. He’d served her a good-size square of the lasagna on a china plate with a knife, fork, spoon and cloth napkin. There was also a serving of broccoli. A cold soft drink and a glass full of ice completed the picture.

“You forgot the vase with a rosebud.”

“Huh?”

She turned her head so he couldn’t see her smile. “Never mind. This looks delicious.” Then she added a grudging, “Thanks.”

“Holding you hostage is bad enough. I don’t intend to mistreat you while you’re in my custody.” He gestured toward the tray. “Go ahead. Sorry there’s not a chair.”

She didn’t care. She ate standing up.

“Whoever lived here sure could cook,” she said after a few hasty bites had dampened the worst of her hunger. She slowed down so she could appreciate the subtle spices and tangy tomato sauce. “Is there more of this?”

“This isn’t enough?”

“For later, I mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, there’s a whole pan.”

“Tell Daniel he can take his time meeting your demands.”

When he looked at her like she’d gone raving mad, she shrugged. “I’m kidding, of course.” She toyed with a broccoli floret. It wasn’t as good as the fresh stuff Cora always served at Daniel’s table, but with a little bit of lemon butter on it, it wasn’t terrible. “So what’s going on? Did you talk to Daniel?”

“I didn’t have his number. I called Project Justice. Figured they’d get him a message.”

She took that news with some alarm. “Depends. Who’d you talk to?”

“Celeste. The dragon lady?”

“Oh, I know who Celeste is,” she said grimly.

“You don’t think she’ll get word to Daniel?”

“She might. Or she might try to launch some kind of pseudo-SWAT-team rescue on her own. You never know about Celeste. I took a road trip with her once to Louisiana. Made the mistake of letting her drive.”

Travis laughed. “That bad?”

“She wanted to stop at a bayou crossing and look for an alligator because she needed a new pair of boots. And she wasn’t kidding.”

“She doesn’t strike me as a fool. She’ll do what needs to be done.”

“I wish I shared your certainty. When will you know?”

“I gave Daniel twenty-four hours to leave an answer on my voice mail. All he has to do is convince me he’s looked into the case.”

“That’s it? He just has to say, ‘Travis, you’re right. There’s been a miscarriage of justice. I’m going to make everything right for your brother’?”

“That’s a start. I also demanded proof he really has looked into the case. He’ll have to provide a detail that’s never been released to the public.”

“Not to blow holes in your plan, Travis, but Daniel can learn every detail about that case, inside and out, in about ten minutes. He has teams of researchers who can get the information in front of him so that he can provide the details you want.”

“That’s good. That’s all I’m asking for. That, and his word that he’ll take on Eric’s case, that he’ll assign investigators and give it his best shot. I understand Daniel is a man of his word.”

“Well, he is that.”

“I believe once he looks into it, he’ll see what I’m talking about. He’ll see Eric really was railroaded by an overzealous D.A. and a gutless defense attorney.”

“You do realize Daniel is married to the Houston D.A., right?”

“I know. The trial took place well before she took office.”

They fell silent for a few minutes. Elena finished up her soft drink. The cola was cold and sweet. She didn’t normally drink soft drinks because of the sugar; she’d forgotten how good they were.

“Doesn’t it bother you that even if you free your brother, you’ll take his place in prison?”

“Eric’s life is worth saving.”

“And yours isn’t?”