Kelly closed her eyes.
“Here we go.”
I stood.
“Take your time. I'll speak with them first.”
She looked toward me.
“Jeffrey?”
I stopped.
“Thank you for not yelling.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
I looked back.
“You don't have to thank me for that.”
Then I went downstairs.
Outside, the afternoon had turned gray.
Snow gathered on the hedges beside the front porch.
Officer Kenneth Davis stood near the entrance with a notebook tucked beneath his arm.
Behind him were Diane and Tom Bennett.
Diane's face was swollen from crying.
Tom looked as though he had aged ten years in two days.
When I opened the door, Diane rushed forward.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs.”
She tried to move past me.
I stepped aside but raised one hand.
“Diane, she's safe. She knows you're here. Please give her a moment.”
The older woman stopped.
Her breathing was ragged.
“I thought she was dead.”
Her voice broke.
“I thought somebody had taken her.”
Tom wrapped one arm around his wife.
Then looked at me.
“Why was she in your house?”
I answered calmly.
“She used the garage code I gave her when she helped us with the plants.”
Tom stared.
“You knew she was here?”
“No. I discovered her this afternoon.”
Kenneth stepped forward.
“We'll document everything. Right now, let's focus on making sure Kelly is okay.”
Diane looked toward the stairs.
“Can I see her?”
I nodded.
“Of course. Just give her room to speak for herself.”
Then I heard footsteps above us.
Kelly appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a long cardigan over her clothes.
She descended slowly, holding the banister.
Diane immediately began crying.
“Oh, sweetheart!”
She hurried forward.
Kelly accepted her embrace.
But within seconds, Tom began asking questions.
“Where have you been? Why didn't you answer your phone? What were you thinking? Do you understand what you've put us through?”
Kelly's shoulders tightened.
Her breathing quickened.
Diane pulled back.
“Honey, we called every hospital in Denver. We thought—”
“Please.”
Kelly's voice was barely audible.
Neither parent heard her.
Tom continued.
“Forty-eight hours, Kelly. Forty-eight hours!”
“Dad.”
“Do you know how dangerous—”
“Tom,” I said.
He turned sharply.
“What?”
I kept my voice level.
“Give her a moment.”
He stared.
“She's my daughter.”
“I know.”
I looked toward Kelly.
“She can answer when she's ready.”
For several seconds, the room remained silent.