Heather sat on the bed, arms wrapped around her bent legs, head resting on her knees. She was in a room decorated for a little girl because according to her benefactor, small female cousins usually stayed in the room. The decor was all pink and frilly, dolls and stuffed animals neatly arranged, and while at eighteen she wasn’t that far from being a little girl, she felt old, ancient, and devoid of any hope or joy reflected in the decor. Next to her on the bed was a calendar, days until the grand jury was seated marked off in black ink, only two remaining yet to be crossed off.

The closer the day came, the more her despair deepened. She was set to testify in front of a grand jury against the man who stole her innocence, the man who sweet-talked and conned her into the sex trade. At one time she believed and trusted him, maybe even loved him, until he crudely shoved her aside and sold her to the highest bidders, keeping her a prisoner for three long years, using and abusing her and letting others do the same. Ironically it was being arrested for prostitution that saved her. That and Sergeant Isaac Pink, the one cop who believed her, the one cop who pushed back on the charges against her and turned the focus of his investigation onto her captor, exploiter, and the real criminal, Porter Cross.

Heather knew Sergeant Pink had fought hard for her, and he still believed in the institutions she’d long since lost faith in.

“You testify, tell the truth, look into the jury’s eyes, and this evil man will go down. I promise you.”

Heather reluctantly agreed, and Pink even gave her shelter, housing her in his downstairs guest room to keep her safe until the grand jury.

But was she safe?

Tonight, fear kept her from sleep, kept her tense. Porter Cross was a rich, powerful movie producer, a famous and ruthless man. He had no shortage of wealthy, connected friends who were equally wicked. If she did reach the grand jury, would those law-abiding, normal people truly believe her, a woman arrested for prostitution, over Cross?

Out of respect for Pink and all he had done for her, Heather dutifully crossed off the days until the jury convened, but now, two days out, her courage failed her. She’d packed a bag and was ready to flee, take her chances out in the world and try as best she could to forget Porter Cross. Would Pink understand?

In the end, it didn’t matter if he understood. He thought that Heather’s being here was a big secret. The trouble was, Heather knew big secrets never stayed buried.