The officer stopped at one of the doors and scanned his keycard to open it. He held the door for us, and we hurried inside. The room was square with almost perfect lines. A table stood in the center with two chairs on either side. An old-fashioned water dispenser, the kind we used in elementary school with coned cups, stood in the corner. Dad and I took a seat next to each other on the chairs. The door clicked shut behind the officer.

“How are you doing?” Dad asked.

“I’m okay,” I lied. What did people do after their mother kidnapped them? Her arraignment was tomorrow, and they were charging her with kidnapping and obstructing justice, both felonies. They’d offered her a plea bargain for any information she gave them on Ray, but she had refused. No surprise.

“You should be at home resting,” he said.

“Dad, I’m fine.” He acted like I had some terminal illness. “Are you okay?”

He hadn’t seen Mom since it had happened, and he had sworn the only time he ever wanted to see her again was in court. But then I had asked to visit, and he hadn’t had a choice, since there was no way he’d let me go by myself.

“I just want to get this over as quickly as possible,” he said. The red light from the camera blinked above his head. The room was probably wired for sound too. But this wasn’t about getting information.

Mom shuffled into the room with her hands in front of her in cuffs. The legs of her pale-blue jumpsuit were too long and dragged on the floor as she walked. Her hair was matted in a big ball behind her, like she hadn’t brushed it for weeks, even though she’d only been here overnight. She rushed forward like she was going to hug me.

“No touching.” The officer jerked her back and nudged her to the other side of the table. “Sit,” he ordered.

Mom sat on command, stretching her hands in front of her. The officer unlatched Mom’s cuffs. She twirled her wrists in circles, like they needed to stretch, then clasped them in her lap.

“Oh Abbi, thank God you’re here. Are you okay?” she asked. New wrinkles lined her face. Dark bags circled her eyes.

Was her concern real? Did she care? “I’m fine,” I said, setting my jaw. It hurt, but I wouldn’t cry. I would do what I’d come here to do. I needed her to look me in the eye and tell me what she’d done—what would’ve happened if Dean and his men hadn’t jumped out to stop them.