Lucian bowed his head, shaking it in disgust. “I should have caught it sooner.”
I squeezed his hand. “There’s no way you could have known. You trusted him.”
He looked at me, his eyes a storm of emotion. “More than I should have.”
I hoped he would eventually find the forgiveness he needed for the decisions he’d made that night, but it wouldn’t be today.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Well, now you and your husband rebuild your lives, I suppose.” Taylor stood and offered me his hand. But when I shook it, he didn’t let me go. “I almost forgot. There was just one more thing I needed to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“Naturally, during the course of the investigation, there was some information that came up, and it got me curious. Your maiden name was Gypsy Blue, correct?”
I offered him a stiff smile. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“The stepdaughter of Ricky Montoya, right?”
My face blanched, and he didn’t miss it, but I tried to regain my composure quickly. “Yes.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about his murder, would you?”
At that point, Lucian stepped up beside me, gently removing my hand from the grasp of the detective. “What are you insinuating here?”
“It was a simple question,” Taylor answered, his eyes never leaving me.
“I heard he died,” I forced out. “But I had already left that place far behind when I got the news.”
His features softened, and he didn’t try to hide his sympathy. “There were a lot of accounts of what was going on in that house. If those were true, I might even say that whoever took him out did the world a favor.”
I didn’t answer, and Lucian’s response was to tighten his grip on my hand, a reminder that he was here. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.
“It’s a shame that the state of California didn’t recognize the issues they were dealing with back then,” Taylor continued. “I think you’ll be happy to know that things are a lot different now. The laws have finally caught up with child trafficking. Although, if I had to guess, I would bet your stint in juvie was probably a welcome vacation at the time.”
“That’s enough,” Lucian growled. “If you have a point, get to it, or get out.”
Taylor nodded. “I’m not implying that Gypsy had anything to do with it; however, I would like to follow up with your sister, Birdie, if you could give me her whereabouts.”
My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know how he found about Birdie, but he did. This was what we’d been running from for years, and it had finally caught up with us. For so long, I’d known that when it came down to it, I would take the fall. That was the only option I ever saw that was fair and just. Birdie couldn’t survive prison, and she would have never been in this position if it weren’t for me. The guilt of not doing something myself had consumed me for years.
I was too paralyzed to fix the situation myself, and now Birdie and I were both fucked up. But I didn’t know how to protect her anymore. Taking the blame was out of the question when I had the baby to think about. I wouldn’t give her up either, and when I looked at Lucian, he knew it.
“From my understanding,” he said, “they haven’t spoken in years.”
Taylor’s brows pinched together as he examined me. “Is that true? I have several accounts that the two of you were rather close.”
“We were.” I stared down at my shoes, thinking quick to spin the lie. “She got wrapped up in a guy I didn’t like. We argued about it, and I haven’t heard from her in a while. I figured that whenever she’s ready to talk, she’ll let me know. But I can tell you right now that she didn’t have anything to do with it either.”
Taylor seemed doubtful. “From what I heard, she was prone to bouts of rage.”
“Can you blame her?” I snapped.
Lucian rubbed his hand along my neck, and I did my best to refrain from telling Taylor exactly how repugnant Ricky Montoya was.
“Do you have a phone number for Birdie?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Sorry, I don’t.”