He shut the door behind him, glancing back over his shoulder one last time. Sheer exhaustion had finally won the battle and Kelly was now sleeping.

"Detective," Kevin called out, quickening his steps as he rushed to catch up with her.

"Mr Buchanan," Detective Finley nodded, glancing up from her notes.

"This guy...you arrested him? It'll stick right? The charges?"

"Have a seat, Mr Buchanan," she said quietly, motioning towards the chairs in the corner. "I'll be happy to answer any questions I can, but unfortunately there are some things we just can't know right now."

"You mean he could get out-even after everything he did to her?"

Her eyes fell momentarily. This was a system she worked for. She risked her life to enforce these laws and yet, in moments like these, she couldn't find any good answers. Nothing made sense.

"I assure you,any judge that hears this case will take the seriousness of these charges into consideration. Bail will be considerable."

"You're telling me they'll grant bail?!" Kevin gripped the wooden arms of the chair until his palm ached.

"Yes," she sighed, "Believe me, I know how it sounds, but unless he has a record, bail is almost always granted. That doesn't mean he can post it though. We can hold him until he posts bail."

"The judge," Kevin stammered, his mind reeling, "Can I talk to the judge?"

"It wouldn't help," she responded, her eyes softening as she looked at him. The early details of this story had painted a quite different picture of Kevin Buchanan. She'd expected a distant, cold shell of a man. What she saw in front of her was a man who cared deeply for his wife. He had his problems for sure, but loving his wife wasn't one of them.

"I have to do something," he said quietly. "I put her here...just tell me what to do."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a card. "You could start with this."

Kevin stared down at the business card. "AA? This is your advice?"

"Mr. Buchanan, your wife was attacked last night in a bar in the middle of the night. Do you know why she told me she was there?"

He looked away, the guilt already gnawing at his insides. "She was looking for me," he said quietly. Taking a deep breath, he met her eyes again, "That's my point though, I'm responsible for this. I have to fix it. I have to make sure he never hurts her again."

"You can't help her until you help yourself," she said quietly. "Your wife needs you ..she doesn't even know how much right now."

Kevin sat quietly for a minute. "The doctor said she wasn't raped, but if the bartender hadn't come out when he did..."

"What happened to your wife is terrible," Detective Finley said quietly, "but I've seen situations where things ended much worse." She thought back to the many times she'd met husbands and wives in them morgue-how she'd bit her tongue to keep her own tears from falling as they would ID the bodies.

"I know," Kevin whispered. "I know she was lucky." The word seemed wrong as it feel from his lips. "Lucky," he breathed, standing and walking back to the room to glance back in at Kelly. "Is that what lucky looks like?"

She walked up behind him, gesturing towards the card in his hand. "Just think about what I said. I'll be back later to get some more information."

Kevin barely realized she'd walked away until he turned around, and saw the empty hallway behind him. He quietly opened the door, slipping in the room and resuming his spot by the bed. Gently he brushed her hair from the face. Her lips were cut and swollen and bruises covered her neck and chest.

Anger and sorrow fought for control as he looked at her. He remembered the day he'd stood in the church with her. He remembered holding her hands and promising to love her, to honor her, and to cherish her. He'd failed miserably at two of the three, but he loved her more now than he ever had.