Empty.

"Dammit." No sign she'd been by, no note on the door, nothing.

While he was there he took the opportunity to grab a couple more suits out of Allan's closet, then reset the alarm and locked the door behind him.

The only place he could go was to the office and to keep trying to call her.

Allan forced himself to stick to the routines Ben had set up. He took an indirect route to the office, constantly checking his rearview mirror for anyone following him, and doubling back several times just in case.

All clear.

At the parking garage, he swiped his ID, which had Ben's name on it even though it was his own picture, to get into the garage. Because of the case, his office had issued "Ben" a special employee access pa.s.s to go through the back entrance, avoiding the main public entryway and enormous, and extremely busy, lobby area. He nodded to the bailiff on duty at a desk inside, showing his pa.s.s.

The bailiff waved him through.

Yet another of Ben's ideas, to keep everyone in his office thinking he was Ben, and that Ben was him. Ben knew the case as well as he did. Depositions were actually handled by the lead attorneys on the case, so they didn't have to worry about any charges of impropriety should the ruse be discovered before the trial started. Once the trial started, Ben would completely disguise himself and Allan would go back to his normal appearance.

They'd even swapped wallets.

Only behind closed doors would Allan get on the phone and handle calls related to the case, Ben listening in from behind Allan's desk. No one could tell their voices apart.

Well, maybe Libbie can by now, he wistfully thought.

Ben, while still officially employed by the sheriff's office, was only working behind the scenes doing support work and research on tech crime cases to keep him out of the office and out of harm's way. He could work on his cases from anywhere he had an Internet connection.

Allan made it to his office without interruptions and closed the door behind him. His office a.s.sistant, thinking he was Ben, wouldn't come in to bug him.

He started tackling calls to take his mind off the wait.

Libbie stared at the enormous lobby behind the gla.s.s entry doors. As foggy as she felt, she wasn't sure she could handle it.

I want to see my guys.

With that thought in mind, she got in line behind several dozen others waiting to pa.s.s through a metal detector to gain entry to the building. By the time she made it into the main part of the lobby, she already felt mentally exhausted in additional to physically, and she had to sit down for a moment to rest.

There were signs all over, people hurrying to reach their destinations, and an ever-present loud buzz of voices, cell phone ringers, and noise from the metal detectors and waiting people reverberating off the tile floors and through the large s.p.a.ce.

She felt like crying.

Buck up. You can do this.

Her flare was worse than she'd originally thought. She hadn't had fibro fog this bad in months. No doubt triggered by the drive combined with stress and exhaustion and loneliness and worry about her men.

She started with one large sign of office listings and scanned through it when she realized her brain didn't want to pick out a pattern to the arrangement. She could read names and office numbers, but it just didn't make any sense. Allan's business card had a street address, but no suite or office number. And without her cell, she couldn't call to have him come down and meet her.

Looking around, she almost smacked herself in the forehead when she spotted two uniformed bailiffs standing behind an information desk on the other side of the lobby. Libbie hurried over and waited her turn.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm here to see Allan Donohue. He's in the State Attorney's office."

The bailiff nodded and said, "440." He pointed. "To the left, elevator's on the right, go left when you get to the fourth floor. Next."

She put out a hand. "I'm sorry." She offered him what she hoped wasn't too pitiful a smile. "I'm...I'm not feeling good this morning. I have difficulty remembering things. Could you please write that down for me?" His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention more fully upon her. She took a deep breath. "Please? I have fibromyalgia and I couldn't even drive this morning it's so bad. I had to take a cab."

His expression immediately softened as he reached for a piece of sc.r.a.p paper. "Sorry. My sister has lupus. She has bad days like that, too." He scribbled the information onto the paper for her and handed it to her. "If you can wait a few minutes, I can have another bailiff escort you if you need it."

She wanted to cry at his kind tone. She took the paper. "No, that's okay." She glanced at the paper and it made sense to her foggy brain. "This helps a lot. Thank you so much."

He nodded. "Next."

She found the elevators. She stood in line again, waiting, her heart racing. I'm so close. So close to seeing them.

When the sudden sting of tears p.r.i.c.kled her eyes, she stepped out of line and hurried into the women's room across from the elevators. Locked into a stall, she cried for a few minutes.

Jeez, I'm even more emotional than usual. She didn't know if it was the stress, or her frustration, or the kindness in the bailiff's tone that triggered her. She hated the crying jags almost as much as she hated the fibro fog. And they'd been happening a lot lately over the past couple of weeks.

Once she composed herself and washed her face in the sink, she returned to the elevators and waited. The ride up felt like an eternity. When she reached the fourth floor, she followed the instructions on the paper and ended up in front of the correct office.

After a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, she walked in. She had to wait for the receptionist at the front desk to finish with a call before she could talk to her.

"Hi, I'm here to see Allan Donohue, please."

"I'm sorry, but he's not in yet. Is he expecting you?"

Libbie struggled not to burst into tears right there. She hadn't thought about the possibility of him not being in the office that time of morning. "Um, oh. Okay. Do you know when he'll be in?"

"He's due in at any time. He's usually here by now."

"May I wait for him?"

The phone rang again. Instead of responding to Libbie, she pointed to a waiting area in the corner and answered the phone.

Despondent, Libbie walked over to the waiting area and took a seat.

Allan answered his work cell on the first ring without looking. "Donohue."

"It's me," Ben said. "No luck."

"Dammit." He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He hated his hair long and s.h.a.ggy.

And blond. d.a.m.n, he hated the blond.

"I'm on my way to the office now," Ben said. "I should be there in about forty."

"So what do we do?"

"I've already called Grover back. He hasn't heard from her. He keeps getting her voice mail when he tries her cell, too. I've already tried calling both her regular cell and the disposable."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't have a f.u.c.king answer, okay? Let me get back there and we'll talk about it and figure it out."

Allan hung up and fought the urge to throw the cell phone against the wall. If anything happened to Libbie, he'd never forgive himself.

We should have been there for her. f.u.c.k this G.o.dd.a.m.ned trial.

He needed to get up, to walk around. Coffee. He headed out of the office and down the hall to the break room.

On his way back, he ran into the receptionist from the front desk. "Oh, there's a woman waiting to see Allan. Do you know when he'll be in or should I just have her keep waiting?"

"He's going to be a while." He had several witness statements to go over today, but he'd thought the first one wasn't coming in until well after lunch. "Send her back. I'll talk to her."

"Okay."

He returned to the office and took his seat behind the desk. At least it would be something to keep his mind occupied and off Libbie. He didn't even look up from his laptop and the e-mail he was replying to when he sensed the woman step into the doorway. "Please come in and close the door behind you."

It was the sound of a soft sob that jerked his head up. Libbie looked two seconds from a complete breakdown. He jumped up from his chair and ran over to her, shoving the door shut and snapping the lock before pulling her into his arms. "Baby! Oh my G.o.d, we've been so worried about you! Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"I...I wanted to see you...I'm sorry... I just...It kept roaming and missing calls and it died and I forgot it at the hotel and I needed a cab and I-" Her words dissolved into unintelligible sobs.

He sat with her on the sofa, consoling her, rocking her in his arms with his face buried in her hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm just glad you're okay." After a couple of minutes, she took a few deep, hitching breaths. "What's that about a cab?" he asked. "What happened to your car?"

With her face pressed against his chest, she told him about her trip and her flare.

When she finished, he let out a sigh of relief. "We were so scared something had happened to you."

"I'm sorry. I really needed to see you." Fresh tears followed. He didn't have the heart to get up and grab his cell and disturb her in the process.

"Where are you staying? We need to get you back there."

"I'm..." She looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock as she started crying again. "I don't remember! It was so late last night and I was so tired..."

"Shh." He started rocking her again, this time with his face pressed into her hair to hide the amused chuckle he desperately wanted to unleash. But in her fragile emotional state, she likely wouldn't understand. He knew it was the fibro, but who the frak forgot where their hotel was? When their car and luggage and everything was there, too?

He had a thought. "Do you have a receipt from check-in?"

She sat up. "Oh. Yeah." She grabbed her purse and dug through it, handing it to him.

He read it. "Okay. Let's get you cleaned up and I'm going to take you back there."

"Are you mad at me?"

He cupped her cheeks with his palms and kissed her, slowly, gently. "No, I'm not mad. Scared and upset and worried, yes. Well, I was. Now that I know you're safe, no. But we need to get you out of here right now. I can't let anyone else see you here."

"What about Ben?"

"I'll call him when we're in the car." He stood, grabbed his laptop and slammed it shut, and shoved it and his cell into his messenger bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed her purse then held his hand out to her. "Come on. We need to go right now."

He led her through the back hallways and out to the parking garage. He hurried her to the car and opened the pa.s.senger door for her. He only stopped to grab his cell from the messenger bag before dumping it in the backseat. Then he started the car and headed out.

He was halfway to her hotel when he finally reached Ben. "She's safe."

"What? Did you get hold of her?"

They were stopped at a red light. He looked at where she was slumped in the pa.s.senger seat with her eyes closed. "She's right here."

"What? At the office?"

"No. In the car."

"Don't be a smart-a.s.s."

"I'm not, dude. We're in the car and heading for her hotel." He read off the address. "Get your a.s.s over there."

"What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

"Look, we'll talk when you get to the hotel. She's in room..." He gently nudged her leg with his free hand.

She looked horrified. "I don't remember." A fresh round of tears started again.

"Did they write it on your keycard envelope?"

"Oh." She sniffled and started rummaging through her purse again. "I did. I forgot I did that. Thanks." She pulled the card envelope out. "302."

"302. See you in a few." He hit end, cutting Ben off in mid-rant. Setting the phone in the center console, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "It's going to be okay," he a.s.sured her, hoping he could make it all okay for her.

He'd forgotten all about Ben's safety procedures at the sight of her tears. It broke his heart that they'd done this to her when she already had so much to deal with on a daily basis. That she'd driven down to see them and they'd caused her even more pain and distress by not being where they'd said they'd be.

That she couldn't even pick up a phone to call them when she just needed to hear their voices.

He took the keycard from her and held her hand all the way up to her room. He put out the Do Not Disturb sign, flipped the dead bolt and security latch, and stretched out with her on the bed, holding her as she crashed into sleep in his arms.

Allan was almost ready to fall asleep when the pounding on the door startled him. Libbie stirred at the sound. He carefully untangled himself from her and looked through the peephole before unlocking the door for Ben.

When Ben raced in, Allan shushed him and pointed to Libbie asleep on the bed. He locked the door while Ben hurried to her side. She slowly opened her eyes when he sat next to her on the bed and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

"Hey," he softly said.

"I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay."