Page 41 of Tangled Past
Chapter Fourteen
The drive into town was quiet enough that Maya could hear the wipers scraping over the ice-encrusted windshield.
Freezing rain tapped against the SUV, turning the world beyond the windows into smeared gray—dark trees, slush-slick pavement, the occasional blur of headlights passing the other way.
Will drove with caution toward the station, his eyes flicking between the road and the mirrors. Behind them, JT and Rachel followed.
Asa sat in the back seat beside Maya. He wasn’t crowding her, but he wasn’t far enough away to feel like a stranger, either. His knee brushed hers every time the SUV hit a rut. It shouldn’t have helped. Somehow, it did.
“You holding up okay?” His voice came from just over her shoulder, low enough that the words didn’t have to fight past the engine noise.
“I don’t know what that means anymore,” she said, watching the blur of storefronts as they passed the first edge of town.
His arm rested along the back of the seat, not touching her but close enough that if she needed to, she could lean into him. “You’re here,” he said. “That counts.”
She swallowed. “The name still feels so fragile,” she admitted. “Vanessa. I keep saying it to myself. Like if I stop, I’ll lose it.”
“You won’t,” Asa said. “He didn’t get that far.”
“Feels like he’s been trying to,” she murmured.
“Trying,” Asa agreed. “Not succeeding.”
Will turned into the small municipal complex where the police station, library, and a handful of shared offices clustered together. The adoption agency squatted near the end, a brick box with narrow windows and a too-cheerful green door. He eased the police cruiser into a spot near the entrance, the engine idling for a second before he shut it off.
JT and Rachel pulled in beside them.
Will got out and automatically scanned the parking lot. Asa followed, rounding the back of the vehicle to open Maya’s door.
She stepped out, her boots slipping on the thin skin of ice.
“Easy,” he said as he steadied her.
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
His hand stayed near her elbow anyway, not quite touching, but close enough to catch her if she stumbled.
Inside, the agency's waiting room hummed with fluorescent lights and smelled like overheated coffee and old carpet. Beige walls, brown chairs, and a fake plant in the corner completed the picture. A crooked Christmas wreath drooped on one wall, its red bow wilted.
The receptionist looked up as the door opened, her gaze skimming over Will’s uniform. “Can I help you, Chief?”
“We called this morning about reviewing Maya Callahan’s adoption file.”
Recognition flickered. “Oh, yes. Of course. Please, come with me.” The receptionist guided them back to a small waiting area. “Ms. Donnelly will be right with you,” she said, disappearing behind a door.
Maya sat with her spine too straight, her hands clutched tight in her lap. The mirror on the opposite wall reflected the exhaustion around her eyes, making her look breakable. Asa took the seat beside her, angling himself between her and the entrance.
“If this becomes too much,” he murmured, “you tap my hand. We walk out. No questions asked.”
She shook her head, eyes locked on the frosted glass door. “I can do this. I need to know.”
Before he could reply, Ms. Donnelly stepped inside—a woman in her late fifties with kind eyes and a cardigan with a loose button. “Chief Kelly,” she greeted, shaking Will’s hand. “And you must be Maya Callahan. Thank you for coming in. My office is this way.”
They followed her into a snug room crowded with filing cabinets. A ceramic angel sat on her desk beside a mug that readBest Aunt Ever.
“Before we begin,” she said gently, “I need to explain that this is highly unusual. Adoption records in this state are sealed. However, your consent, coupled with the chief’s request in connection with an active case, gives me additional latitude.”
Will nodded. “We appreciate any help you can give.”
