Chapter 3 Shifting Ground

Monique sat on the stiff cot in the holding cell, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. The echo of Cherry's screams haunted her ears, an imprint more brutal than the cuffs that had dug into her wrists.

She had faced hardship before rejection, betrayal, isolation, but nothing like this. Being arrested was one thing. But losing Cherry? That was unbearable.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Heavy, precise. Monique didn't bother to look up.

Until she heard his voice.

"Monique."

Her eyes lifted slowly.

Jace Harris stood on the other side of the bars, still in uniform, though the tie was looser now. His face was shadowed with fatigue, or regret. Maybe both.

"You have five minutes," the guard said gruffly, stepping away but keeping within earshot.

Jace stepped closer to the bars. "I shouldn't be here, but I had to see you, it's important I see you."

Monique stood, blood rushing to her ears. "If this is about Cherry, you're already too late."

His jaw clenched. "I'm not here to fight."

"No?" She let out a bitter laugh. "What then? Want to feel better about dragging me out of my home at gunpoint?"

"That was protocol."

"No, that was you. You had a choice. You always had a choice."

He looked down for a moment. "I didn't know about Cherry. Not until I saw her."

"She has your eyes," Monique said softly. "She says please even when she's scared, just like you did as a kid. She loves blueberries and hates the color red. She's everything like you. You think I made all that up to trap you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

There was a long silence.

"I wanted to talk to you before," he said finally. "Two years ago, I tried."

"You tried? Where? In my dreams?" Her voice cracked. "You ghosted me, Jace. I found out I was pregnant and you were gone. And now you show up as the cop who arrests me for murder?"

"I wasn't the one who disappeared without a trace."

"Oh, don't turn this around on me." Her voice trembled with restrained rage as she slammed her hand on the table. "Don't even do that, I fled because I had no choice. Someone was threatening me, my life, my body. And I couldn't trust the one person I thought I could."

His expression darkened. "Billy."

She nodded. "You know he's behind this, don't you?"

"I suspect it. But I can't prove it, yet."

"Then why are you helping him bury me alive?"

"I'm not," he said quietly. "That's why I'm here, to help you out of all this."

Monique stepped back, heart hammering. "No. No, you don't get to play hero now. You had your chance to protect me. You failed. I won't let you fail Cherry too."

Jace looked away, ashamed. "Where is she now?"

"Foster care," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Just until Ruby can get the hearing scheduled."

"I'm going to help," he said.

"I don't think I need it. You already did enough."

"No," he said firmly, stepping closer to the bars. "I mean it. I'm going to dig into Billy's connections, find out who tampered with the apartment lease, who planted Ava Morris's body, who doctored the camera feeds. You're not alone in this."

Monique stared at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. For a moment, she saw the old Jace, the one who held her hand after her mother's funeral, who swore he'd never leave her. Then she blinked, and he was gone again.

"You know talk is cheap," she said. "Prove it."

That afternoon, Ruby returned with a fresh folder and a fire in her step. She sat across from Monique in the same gray interview room and slid a document across the table.

"Emergency custody hearing. It's scheduled for tomorrow morning."

Monique's breath caught. "They'll let me see her?"

"If we're lucky, they'll let you keep her. But it's a long shot, Mon. We need something more."

"Like what?"

"Proof that the murder setup was a frame job. Or something big enough to cast doubt on the prosecution's claims. Anything we can use to shake this loose."

Monique nodded slowly, trying to summon clarity through the fog of fear and grief. "Billy wanted me under his control back then. He offered me money. Exposure. Said he could help my nonprofit idea take off. But when I said no, things got... weird."

"Weird how?"

"He started calling me late at night. Sending gifts I didn't ask for. He knew where I lived. I told Jace back when we were still... involved, but he told me not to worry."

Ruby's brow furrowed. "So Jace knew you felt threatened?"

"Yes."

"Interesting," Ruby muttered, making a note. "That could be useful. Especially now that he's suddenly interested in helping."

Monique gave her a wary look. "Do you trust him?"

Ruby paused. "Not yet. But I believe he regrets what happened."

Monique rubbed her temples. "We were just kids, Ruby. When we got together, I thought I could finally breathe again. I didn't know love could feel like drowning."

"You're not drowning anymore," Ruby said gently. "You're fighting."

"But what if I lose?"

"Then we keep fighting harder."

That evening, Jace sat alone in his office, the blinds drawn, the overhead light dimmed. A file lay open on his desk, Ava Morris, 27, deceased. No priors. Attended a trauma support group in Eastwood under a fake name: "Angela M."

He remembered that group. He had helped Monique get involved with it after she finished her own counseling. He remembered how proud she was to give back.

He flipped through the file again.

The surveillance footage had clearly been tampered with. Timestamps didn't match. Audio was missing. Someone had gone to great lengths to frame Monique.

He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Guilt gnawed at his gut like rust on steel.

He had loved her. In his own broken way.

And now, two years later, she was paying the price for his cowardice.

The next morning, the courtroom was a sea of gray suits and polished shoes. Monique stood at the defendant's table, Ruby by her side. Across from them sat a stern-looking woman in a tan blazer, the CPS representative.

Cherry wasn't in the room. Monique's heart ached with every second she couldn't see her daughter's face.

Ruby rose first.

"Your Honor, we are requesting emergency reinstatement of custody to Ms. Harris based on character references, employment history, and evidence that the charges against her are the result of an orchestrated smear campaign by a known predator."

The judge, a sharp-eyed woman with short white hair, raised an eyebrow. "Do you have proof of this claim?"

"We're in the process of gathering it," Ruby replied, "but we can provide sworn statements, history of threats, and motive."

The CPS lawyer stood. "Until the charges are dropped, we recommend continued temporary custody. The child is safe and cared for."

Monique's fists clenched.

"She's not safe without me," she whispered, voice hoarse. "She's never slept without me. She doesn't even know what's happening."

Ruby placed a calming hand on her arm.

The judge spoke slowly. "Ms. Harris, given the charges, we must proceed with caution. But I will allow supervised visitation, beginning this afternoon."

Tears filled Monique's eyes. "Thank you, Your Honor."

It wasn't full custody, not yet but it was something. A lifeline.

A chance to hold her baby again.

That afternoon, Monique sat in a sterile visitation room with toys lined neatly on shelves and a social worker in the corner pretending not to watch.

When the door opened and Cherry was led inside, Monique's breath left her body.

Her baby looked smaller than she remembered uncertain, guarded, clutching Blue the elephant with white-knuckled fingers.

Then Cherry saw her.

And the walls came down.

"Mommy!"

She ran, and Monique caught her, tears flowing freely now.

"I missed you," Cherry sobbed. "I didn't like it there. I want to go home."

"I know, baby. I'm gonna bring you home. I promise."

She held her close, rocking her gently, and for the first time since the arrest, Monique felt something bloom inside her chest.

Hope.