Paige nodded listlessly.

The lieutenant’s wife, Sue Ellen, had the pinched look of someone with little patience, or of someone working under dire stress. Her voice was perplexingly flat, and this somehow increased Paige’s anxiety.

“Close your eyes now,” the woman said evenly, crossing her legs and linking her hands. “We will try this again.”

“Again. Yes.”

Paige tried easing her muscles. Zach had explained that the “procedure” had to take place with her in the room alone with the hypnotist.

The moment she had been guided into the room, Zach—strong, armed, delicious Zach—had been dialoguing outside with Lieutenant O’Neill, a bald, stocky man who looked to have spent the last couple of years without sleep.

“My husband has checked the perimeter,” Sue Ellen had soothed. “This is a safe neighborhood. And don’t worry, the men will be watching next door. Both rooms are set up specifically to enable forensic hypnosis. There are cameras in ours, and a monitor in the other. This allows the detectives to watch and tape your testimony.”

“O-okay,” she’d said.

Paige, you don’t have to do this …

Zach’s words this morning danced in her head. She’d answered, I want to.

And she did! But goodness, she was nervous.

“Ready, Paige?”

Next door, she told herself. He was next door.

“Ready,” she breathed.

Zach sat so still before the TV screen he could be just another of the sculptures in the room.

On a chair next to his, O’Neill lowered his soda can, clearing his throat. “Rivers, perhaps it’s better if you—”

Zach lifted one hand that effectively silenced him. “No, no, no. I need to hear this.”

He needed to hear what she’d been through. He needed to hear her remember him and know that he had not made her up, that his entire life was not centered on something that could never be. He needed to know what had happened—how, when, and why the fuck he hadn’t been able to protect her.

He ran a palm down his hot face, then clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned on his elbows. Had she seen the bastard? What had he said to her? Done to her? Fuck.

“All right, Paige, so relax.”

“Is Zach … is Detective Rivers listening?”

Oh, baby. Oh, sweetheart, I’m here.

“Yes. And Lieutenant O’Neill.”

Zach schooled his expression into one of detachment, aware of O’Neill scrutinizing his profile. Damned if he’d let the ruthless bastard see what Paige did to him. Damned if he’d let himself tear apart in front of him.

“Let’s start again, shall we?”

Start again, yes. Paige nodded, appeased, and shifted on the old chair, trying not to notice that it felt as if the soft seat were swallowing her. Her eyes kept sailing across the room, distracted by all the adornments on the wall.

“Eyes closed, Paige.”

Swallowing, Paige stretched her legs out until her toes rested at the very edge of the chaise, and attempted to concentrate.

Sue Ellen told her—no, she ordered, really—to get comfortable. So she “did.”