Chapter 63

Angel's eyes lower and her free hand makes a small fist on the table. During my years as a police officer, I learned the best way to get an answer is silence after the question. I wait, making each second seem like a minute.

She replies abruptly without looking at me. "I was married to an older man when I was young and-"

I break the golden rule of interview and interrogation and interrupt. "How young?"

Her delicate gulp before answering tells me a lot. "Sixteen."

"Go on," I say and pick up my glass again. I suddenly realize I need the fog the alcohol brings as much as Angel does. She was fucking sixteen when she went to some dirty old man. I need to have a grip on the sudden burst of anger that's spreading through me.

Angel glances up and I'm suddenly caught in her web of what's made her who she is. "My mother died, and my father sold me at the request of his remaining wives." The hurt drips off her in waves of misery. I remain quiet so she'll continue. "I was the third wife." She