Never Giving Up (Never #3)(32)
“They caught him?” I heard his emotion through the phone and wanted desperately to hold him in that moment.
“Yes, Baby. They got him.” He took in some deep breaths and let them out, shuttering. Oh, how I wanted to be with him. “Porter, come and get me. Bring me to Portland,” I whispered.
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.” I laughed because it was an hour’s drive.
“Drive safely, Love.”
True to his word, Porter showed up at Dahlia only fifty minutes later. He walked in, nodded at Chad, the security detail he’d hired, and came straight for me. The next instant I was in his arms, smelling the familiar scent of wood and soap, ready and willing to crawl right inside of him and live there forever.
“Are you ok?” He asked, stroking his hand down my hair.
“I am now.”
“You ready to go?” I nodded and he turned to Chad. “You’ll follow us to Portland?”
“Of course,” Chad responded, moving from his posed position of feet spread shoulder-width apart and hands grasped behind his back. He held the front door open for us and we headed out, shouting a goodbye to the girls left at the store for the day. In the past weeks, Chad had become somewhat of a shadow. He drove me where I needed to go and went with me everywhere, unless I was with Porter. Megan had a similar guard at her shop, but he only stayed in the store. She didn’t have the pleasure of having a quiet and seemingly grumpy man with her at all times.
Another development over the last few weeks was that Porter now carried a gun. It made me nervous to see the handle sticking out of his belt, or to see it holstered around his ribcage, but I knew there was no talking him out of it. And, really, I wanted him protected too, so I accepted it. I refused to carry a gun. I knew what it felt like to fire a gun into a person, what it was like to shoot someone and watch them die. Porter agreed that as long as I was with him or Chad, there was no need for me to carry a gun. It was one argument I was glad we avoided.
An hour later we pulled up to the police station and before I could even try to open my door, Chad was there, his eyes roaming around the parking lot, looking for any sort of trouble. Porter came to my side of the truck and took my hand, leading me into the station. My other hand instinctually found my belly, and I took a deep breath, trying not to freak out about what I was going to do.
Detective Dillard was waiting for us when we entered and he ushered us into another interrogation room. We sat down and Porter never let go of my hand.
“Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“Do you really think it’s him?” Porter’s question was short and strained. I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand, trying to calm him. I could only imagine what he was thinking, possibly being in the same building as the man who shot me. His protective instincts had to be tearing him apart.
Dillard took in a deep breath and seemed to hold it for a moment longer than normal. “I think it’s him.” I felt Porter’s hand grip mine a little tighter at Dillard’s statement. “But we really need Ella to try and ID him in a blind line-up.” His eyes drifted over to me and I could feel my pulse beating in my temples.
I shook my head at him. “I don’t remember his face. I never saw it.” Dillard put his hands out like he was offering me something. I couldn’t help but think he was trying to give me my life back, I just had to claim it.
“You’re just going to go into a room, much like this one, only instead of a mirror there will be a window. On the other side there will be eight men, all with a number above their heads. You just take your time and look at each of them thoroughly. If one of them stands out to you, or even two of them, you let me know.”
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Porter said as he pulled my chin to look at him.
“Don’t I?” I whispered.
“No. If you’re not ready we walk right out of here and go home. They can wait.”
“No, we can’t,” Dillard interjected. “We can only hold him so long on a charge with no substantial evidence. If we don’t ID someone, he’ll be back on the street by morning. And if it’s him in there, the man that shot you, he might get a crazy idea to go after you.”
Porter nearly growled at the man. “Do not use fear to coerce her into doing something she isn’t ready for.” His voice was full of rage and I could feel his pulse pumping through the tanned skin of his wrist. It was my turn to comfort him. I placed my hand on his cheek and urged him to look back at me.
“Porter, it’s going to be ok. I’m going to walk into a room and look at a bunch of strangers. I don’t remember him.”
“And if she doesn’t remember him, but he’s in that room, what then?” Porter was seething.
“I’ll do everything I can between now and morning to get something out of him that can give us cause to hold him.”
“There’s nothing to lose by going in there, Porter. If I leave he gets off anyway.” My hand slipped to the back of his neck and I pulled his forehead in to touch it to mine. “I’ll be ok,” I whispered.
“You ready?” Dillard asked. I turned to him and nodded. He stood up and started towards the door.
“Give me just one minute alone with her,” Porter said without looking at Dillard, still fuming. He said nothing, but left Porter and I alone in the cold room. Before I could look towards him, I felt his hands on me, pulling me into him, and his mouth pressed against mine.