Tentatively he reached around the doctor’s back and gripped handfuls of her white coat. She nodded against his cheek and he held on until he exhausted himself with weeping and was able to choke back the stupid sobs. They’d seen. All the women in the room had seen him cry.

Heard him, too.

God.

New humiliation washed over him. But he was too tired to panic anymore. Someone tucked some tissues into his hand and he pulled back from the doctor’s warm hug to mop his face and blow his nose, his eyes now fixed downward. He couldn’t face her. Couldn’t face any of them.

He drew a deep breath through his nose, hoping he wasn’t snorting too rudely. Then froze. He drew another deep sniff, realizing he could smell chocolate.

He looked up then, but all he saw was Dr. Dani, dabbing at her own eyes.

She cried, too. For me. It was . . . a lot more than he’d expected.

His hands were moving before he realized it. “You smell like chocolate.”

She smiled, blinking away more tears. “My shampoo,” she answered, then drew a breath of her own. “I’m not going to tell you that everything will be okay, because I don’t know what’s going to happen. Except that I won’t abandon you.”

“Or Joshua?”

She nodded firmly. “Or Joshua.”

He chanced a look around, saw that the other women were waiting patiently. His interpreter’s eyes were wet, as were the nurse’s. And the cop’s. That surprised him. No one looked angry. No one looked disgusted.

They just looked sad.

He turned back to the doctor. He trusted her word, that she wouldn’t abandon his brother. Still, Joshua was not her responsibility. He’s mine. He’d do what he needed to do to get him back. Starting with this exam. Nervously he ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when he brushed over the stitches he’d all but forgotten with the arrival of the detectives. “Okay, I’m ready. You can check my shoulder.”

He just prayed she wouldn’t need to see anything more. That she knew that he’d been hurt by a man was humiliating enough. Her seeing it? All the women seeing it?

That was too much.

Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 4:00 p.m.

Diesel looked up from the page he was coloring when someone knocked on Dani’s office door. Joshua’s gaze flew to his, frightened, the crayon he held breaking in two in his tight grip.

“Don’t worry,” Diesel said. “No one will hurt you here.”

Joshua nodded, but he bit his lower lip with his tiny little baby teeth. He looked at the broken crayon in his hand, his scared eyes filling with new tears. “I broke it.”