Never Giving Up (Never #3)(33)

There was nothing soothing or calm about this kiss. His hands were in my hair, on my neck, holding me to him, as if he were afraid I was going to float away. I let him take me. It was obvious that was what he needed, to hold on to a piece of me while we were separated. He felt helpless that I was doing this alone and in turn, he felt alone.

When he finally pulled away from me, my bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, hanging on to the very last part of me he could. If we had been anywhere but this sterile room, I would have felt very differently about that kiss. It would have morphed into something so unbelievably hot, so ridiculously passionate, neither one of us would have been able to stop it from progressing. But we were here, and it wasn’t hot. It was frantic and heartbreaking. I moved back from him, trying desperately to appear the strong and infallible person I wanted to be in that moment.

“I’ll be ok. I’ll be right back.” My hand trailed across his cheek as I walked away from him, leaving the room, attempting to put on my mask of courage. I nodded at Dillard as I came upon him in the hallway.

“Listen, Ella, take as much time as you need in there. Don’t just give up if you don’t recognize any of them right away. There’s no rush.”

I nodded at him again, afraid that any words I tried to speak would defy my attempt at bravery. If I tried to speak right now, the words would come out shaky and filled with fear, so it was better I kept my mouth shut. I let him lead me through the building and when his hand stopped on a doorknob, I felt the panic start to take over.

“Wait! Wait. . . . I need a moment.” I laid a hand over my chest and tried to even out my breaths. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to do this without difficulty. I knew the men behind the glass wouldn’t be able to see me, but I didn’t want to go in there and appear to be broken—not to anyone. I wanted to hold my head high, shoulders back, and to be brave. Dillard let me have my moment, and when I stood up straight I pushed my shoulders back and ran a hand through my hair. There were no tears in my eyes and my breathing was even. “Ok. I’m ready.” He nodded and opened the door for me.

The room was exactly as he’d described it, only, my side of the room was dark. It seemed fitting that I was in the dark while the alleged criminals were in the light—a reversal, if you will. Let them sweat it out a little. Let them feel like all the eyes are on them, while I rest in the cold and calm dark, I could use a little peace and quiet. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as hard as I thought.

I took a few steps until I was only a breath away from the glass partition.

“You’re sure they can’t see me?” I turned to Dillard.

“Trust me. You’re safe. They cannot see you. They see a mirror.” I nodded and my eyes returned to the men.

At first, my eyes fluttered all over the place, latching on to tiny, insignificant things about the men. One had blue eyes, one was wearing a beanie, one had on orange socks. My mind tried to process all the information at once and I felt myself becoming confused. I looked down at the ground and took a few deep breaths. When I looked up again, I stood tall, and I gazed at the man with the number one above his head.

I studied his face, his shoulders, the way he was built, but nothing seemed familiar about him at all. I moved on. I studied each man for an exorbitant amount of time, thoroughly looking at every part of them exposed to me. I didn’t think I’d find him, but it wasn’t going to be for lack of trying. The fifth man proved to be unfamiliar as well. He was much too short and skinny. I remember the outline of the man who shot me and he was imposing.

When my eyes fell upon the sixth man, I felt a zing of electricity shoot through me, almost like my body had been asleep and was waking up. Pins and needles. It was there and then, just as quickly, it dissipated. I looked over at Dillard and he was stone-like. I turned back to the sixth suspect and my eyes took in everything about him. He was tall, bigger than the other men he was standing next to, and his eyes we trained on a spot on the floor. Again, I looked at Dillard.

“Can you ask Number Six to stand up straight?” I was surprised that my voice came out as calm and strong as it had.

Dillard walked to a button on the wall, pushed it, and spoke into a speaker just above it.

“Number Six, step forward, hands at your side, stand up tall, and look straight ahead.” The button made a crackling noise when he released it and I watched as the man bit his lip, took a few steps forward, and stood up straight. It seemed as though he looked straight at me, but his eyes never met with mine. He was looking into a void.

I took another step towards the glass, narrowing my eyes at him. Suddenly, I saw a flash of the man in the dark hoodie. The hooded man was looking at the ground, it was dark, but then he raised his head to look at me, and I watched the shadow move over his face. The first part of his face I saw was his chin. It was prominent with a dimple in the middle.

Just like Man Number Six.

In my mind, the image of the man in the hoodie became clearer and as the shadow moved up, more of his face became visible. His nose—crooked. His eyes—light. His hairline—a widow’s peak.

Just like Man Number Six.

“That’s him,” I said firmly, with conviction. “Number six.” I looked over at Dillard and he gave me no indication as to whether or not I was right.

“Have you looked at all the suspects?” He asked as he leaned casually against the wall.