Never Giving Up (Never #3) (15 page)

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.

I turned back to the wall of men, the last two men were nothing like the man in my memory. I looked back to Dillard. “That’s him. None of the others match the man in my mind. That’s him. I know it.”

“Ok,” he said, taking my elbow and leading me out of the room.

“Wait,
ok
? That’s all you’re going to say? Was that Jason Ramie? Did I pick the right one?” I
knew
I had; I just wanted to hear it from him. He didn’t say anything, just led me back to the room where Porter waited. I walked in and rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His face burrowed into my neck and I heard him take in a deep breath. After a moment he pulled away and framed my face with his hands.

“Are you ok?” He looked panicked.

“Hey,” I said, trying to get him to focus on my eyes. “I’m fine, Porter. I’m ok.” I felt a smile pull across my face and it was the most brilliant smile. I could feel it spreading throughout my entire body. Happiness. Joy. For once in the last year I wasn’t fearful. Something snapped back into place within me, something about being in the room and facing the biggest fear I’d ever had was invigorating. “I did it,” I whispered through my enormous smile. “I found him.” Porter’s eyes grew wide and he frantically looked around for Dillard.

“Was he in there? Did she ID him?”

“Why don’t you both take a seat,” Dillard said, motioning towards our abandoned chairs.

“Fuck sitting, Dillard. Tell us what happened.” The detective looked like he was trying to decide whether he was going to let Porter talk to him that way, but slowly a smile spread across his face.

“She did beautifully. She positively identified Jason Ramie. He’s being taken into custody as we speak and will be charged with attempted aggrevated murder.”

Even though I knew I’d picked him out, I couldn’t help the surprised gasp that left me. My hand captured the breathy cry that left my mouth and I turned to Porter. He looked just as shocked as I felt.

“You did?”

I shrugged. “I remembered.”

“Of course you did,” he said, pulling me into him again, kissing my forehead. “What happens next?” His question was directed at Dillard, but his eyes stayed on me.

“Well, like I said, he’ll be formally charged and in a couple of days he’ll have a bail hearing and then he’ll enter a plea.”

“A bail hearing? He could get out on bail?”

“Unlikely. Usually in murder cases like this the bail is set very high and I can’t imagine the boy has money like that laying around.”

Boy? He didn’t look like a boy to me. He was big and burly. He might have been young, but he was no boy.

“But there’s a chance?”

“A slim one.”

“Still . . .” Porter continued.

“Hey, it’s ok. Everything is going to be ok,” I said, trying to soothe him. Porter looked back to me and I saw a little smile pull at his lips.

“Well, this is a pleasant turn of the tides. Ok,” he brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. “If you’re sure you’re ok, I’ll let it go for now.”

“I’m fine. He’s locked up tonight. I remembered.”

“You did fantastic,” he said gently.

“She really did,” Dillard interjected. “I was worried at first that the whole thing would overwhelm her, but she was methodical and thoughtful. She made her way down the line and she grew more confident as she went along. If it weren’t a shitty situation, I would say it was a pleasure to work with her.”

Porter looked at me with so much pride it made my heart swell in my chest, and I felt some of the walls I had built around it shatter and fall to pieces.

“So, we’re free to go?”

“Definitely. I will call you to let you know when the bail hearing is, just in case you want to be there. And you should definitely call your lawyer.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Porter said, shaking the man’s hand.

“No problem. You did great, Mrs. Masters,” he said as I shook his hand. I smiled up at him.

“Thanks for being patient with me and thank you for catching him.”

Chad waited at the entrance of the police station and when we approached, he looked to Porter for instructions.

“Chad, thank you for waiting. I’m sure you want to get home. I’ll contact you in the morning.”

“I don’t mind. Do you want me to follow you and Ella home?”

Porter looked at me and smiled. “No, they’ve caught the man who shot Ella. I think we’re going to drive home alone tonight.”

“That’s wonderful news, Sir. Ma’am, I’m happy to hear he’s been caught. Have a good evening.” With that Chad walked away and Porter and I were alone, in the evening, not in our house, for the first time in weeks. It shouldn’t have felt foreign, but it did. To just be the two of us was a novelty. I leaned into him and heard him breathe in a content breath.

“Let’s go home,” he said into my hair, making me smile.

“That sounds fantastic,” I said into his chest. When we pulled up to our house, there was no police cruiser parked down the street and I reveled in the feeling of safeness I felt in that moment. Perhaps we were going to be ok.

My nerves spiked as Porter drove us down the gravel driveway that would lead us to our house. In the past weeks, I knew the house was getting closer to being complete, but Porter had many warnings of insulation and paint fumes and kept me off the property. I trusted him to build us an incredible house, so I wasn’t nervous about being kept out of the loop on decisions. Hell, if we could have just transplanted the beach house right here on our twenty acres on the outskirts of Salem, I would have. But if Porter could build a house that beautiful on his own, he didn’t need me meddling in the process.

So I let him design, build, and construct our house, only offering opinions when asked. Houses were his forte so I intended to let him shine. I knew I’d love whatever he conjured up and that notion extended to every aspect of our life. However, when his truck pulled around the bend in the road and our house came into view, there was nothing in my imagination that could have prepared me for the beauty of the structure.

“Oh my God, Porter!” I exclaimed, simply stunned by the finished product.

“You like it?”

My head snapped to the side to look at him.

“Like it? Porter, it’s incredible!”

“Ok, well, this is just the outside. I hope you like the inside too.”

My eyes took in the massive structure. Obviously, I had seen the house in its unfinished form, but not for a month or two. The driveway was circular and led up to the front of the house. There was a side road that led to the back of the house where I knew there was a three-car garage. The house was two stories tall and boasted tall arched accents with exposed beams. The wooden beams stood out against the warm yellow paint and cool-colored stonework that encased the bottom of the house.

The front door was wooden and matched the beams in color, a nearly red chestnut, and small path lights led you from the driveway right to the magnificent door.

Porter parked his truck and came around to open the door for me, lending me his hand, knowing full well that my equilibrium was off-kilter with the big, protruding baby belly I was now sporting. He helped me from the truck, but didn’t release my hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over my knuckles as we walked towards the house.