“You’re welcome. Dafydd, I came here to tell you I’m all right and that I’ll get you out of here. They can’t keep you here for kidnapping if the victim shows up and says she wasn’t kidnapped.” Determination turned Lara’s voice to steel.

“Can they not?”

“They won’t,” she said flatly.

Something curious came into Dafydd’s expression and Lara glanced away, discomfited. The strength in her words was unfamiliar to her; she was accustomed to being quiet, unnoticed, and gentle in her interactions. She had thrown some of that away simply by entering the Barrow-lands, and had been obliged, once there, to push herself far beyond where her confidence might usually have lain. She knew it, but Dafydd’s recognition of her changes said they ran both deeper and more clearly than she’d imagined possible in such a short period of time. But it was necessary, if she was to succeed in getting Dafydd out of prison, much less face the questions the Barrow-lands offered. “I don’t know how long this will take. Not too long, I promise.”

Dafydd smiled. “Promises spoken by a truthseeker are not to be taken lightly.”

“They’re not given lightly, either.” Lara couldn’t remember the last time she’d made a flat promise; absolutes were too difficult to deal in. “Dafydd, I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I need to find a lawyer for you, for me maybe, in order to make this work.”

“It’s all right. I’ve endured these long months here. Another few nights won’t harm me.”

“They’d better not,” Lara muttered. “I don’t want to explain to your father how I lost you to the American prison system.”

“I can hardly imagine how he would react to that,” Dafydd said drolly, then, more softly, “I’m glad you’re well, Lara. I was worried.”

Lara smiled and pressed her hand against the glass. “Me, too.” She thumped the glass, then stood abruptly. “We have so much to talk about and none of it can be done here. I’m going to go before I get indiscreet. Dafydd, I—” Audacity took her breath and left her wondering at the intensity of emotion she’d been about to voice. “I’ll get you out of here,” she whispered instead. “As soon as I can.”

He nodded, and she left with her final image of his amber eyes in a grateful face.

It was late enough when she returned to the city that it made a viable excuse to return home, pretending the day was over. The temptation to do so was great enough to keep Lara idling at a traffic light, distant with thought as the light turned to green.

An impatient beep behind her jolted her into action, knocking the turn signal on and making a decision for her. She made the turn and entered an underground parking lot that others were deserting as the hour ticked past five. It was only a few minutes’ walk to Lord Matthew’s, and Lara rang the entrance bell stiffly, wondering if Steve still worked long hours that would make him late for dinner.

Cynthia’s voice came through the intercom system, polite and more mature than Lara remembered: “One moment, please, and I’ll escort you in.”

Lara took a breath to offer her name and a protest that she didn’t need an escort, and let it go again in silence. The radio or one of the ubiquitous twenty-four-hour news stations might have announced her return by now, but Cynthia was unlikely to have heard either between school and work.

The door opened, and Lara felt her expression go slack-jawed. The high school senior she’d known was nearly nineteen now, probably in college, and had left the last vestiges of childhood behind sometime in the past year and a half. Instead, a poised young woman in a high-fashion shirt and skirt, beautifully made but catching the edge of exuberant youth, stood before her with her eyes going increasingly round.

Then Cynthia blurted, “Oh my God, it was you, I’m so sorry,” and fell on Lara in a teary hug. Lara caught her, almost laughing with relief and not especially caring that they were making a scene on Lord Matthew’s doorstep. It took several sniffling moments before Cynthia pulled her inside and demanded, “What happened?” in such a high-pitched voice that Lara thought perhaps the high school senior hadn’t been left so far behind, after all.

“I can’t talk about it,” she answered softly. “I will if I ever can, Cyn, but right now I just can’t. I’m okay, though. I’m all right, and I’m so sorry I disappeared like that. I didn’t know it was going to happen.”

“Well of course, nobody knows they’re going to disappear. I’m just so glad you came back and you’re okay and oh my God, Lara! Dad! Dad! Daddy!”

Lara winced. “If he’s with a client—”

“He isn’t, he’s just going deaf. Daddy! Lara’s back!”

For a man purported to be going deaf, Steve Taylor appeared with remarkable alacrity at Cynthia’s last shout. He looked older, too, Lara thought: more gray at the temples of his curling hair, and circles under brown eyes. He stared at Lara a moment, then, much like his daughter had, swept her into a hug. “Thank God. Are you all right?”

“I am.”

“Okay.” Steve set her back, hands on her shoulders, and looked her up and down as if making sure she was telling the truth, then nodded. “Okay. That’s all that matters. That’s all that matters.”

“Steve, I hate to do this, I can’t explain where I’ve been—”

“It doesn’t matter.” There was so much passion in his voice that Lara faltered, overwhelmed by the music of his conviction. She’d known he cared about her, but hearing the depths of his relief told her that Steve Taylor was, in truth, the closest thing to a father she’d had. Suddenly teary-eyed, she stepped forward to hug him again, and his reassurances were murmured over her head: “You’re alive, you’re safe, you’re home. I mean it, Lara, that’s all that matters. We’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” The answer came automatically, not even a lie, though all the missing she’d done had been crammed into the twenty-four hours since she’d learned she had been gone for well over a year. She wiped her eyes surreptitiously, stepping back to look up at him. “Steve, I need a lawyer. Dafydd—David, David Kirwen, he didn’t kidnap me, he didn’t hurt me, nothing like that happened. I need to get him out of jail, and you’re the only person I know who even has a lawyer. I’m sorry to ask, especially like this, but—”

“Lara.” He squeezed her shoulders and spoke more gently. “Listen to me. I don’t care if you took a vacation to the moon. You’re home, and nothing else is important. If you need a lawyer, then I can help you. There is no ‘especially like this’ for you to apologize about.”

“I care if she took a vacation to the moon,” Cynthia said abruptly, though not seriously. Steve stepped back, taking his cell phone out, and spoke beneath Cynthia as she continued, “I want pictures, at least, and I want to go with her next time because one-sixth gravity would be awesome.”

Lara giggled, aware it was a surprisingly pathetic sound. “I didn’t go to the moon. Sorry. No Earth-rise photos from me. I didn’t even have a camera.”

“I’d say bring one next time but I don’t want you to disappear again ever.”

“I’d rather not myself,” Lara admitted, and Steve closed his phone with a snap.

“My lawyer’s on her way. Welcome home, Lara. Everything’s going to be okay.”