December 12, 2014: 1,261 words

A/N: December 20, 2014: rebeccak2009 thank you for the comment regarding insulin. I am changing that part. This goes out to everyone too. If you see anything that is inaccurate, please let me know! I don't particularly like incorrect or illogical events in my stories. Also if any of you have any more tips of how to better write Noah's medical condition, don't be shy to tell me. All comments regarding the story's content is greatly appreciated! :) Thanks again, and I hope this makes more sense.

December 20, 2014: 1,267 words

Chapter 3

Lewis' father leaves the room, and I hear papers flipping in another room. Meanwhile, I profile the room noting all the exit options. There's only one in sight.

"Mommy," Noah whispers, catching my attention.

"Yeah Noah?" I see the puppy frown on his face, immediately I want to hug him until he smiles. But, I can't. "Everything's going to be okay," I face him with a façade.

"Momma, I'm really hungry." Noah clutches his tummy.

I curse inwardly, has that much time past already? "Noah, this is very important. Do you remember how long it's been since you last ate?" He searches his memory, and bobs his head twice.

"Mac & cheese," he squeaks, "but it was dark out when Mr. Lewis brung us here." Here? We've relocated. Somehow I hadn't detected that clean air scent before now.

I quickly assess my options which are few in numbers: I either let Noah go hungry or I bargain with Lewis. The former is definitely not a choice he can survive. I hate the idea of imploring for this sick scum, but I would do anything for my son.

"Lewis!" I sound. His feet shuffle into the room.

"Miss me already, Olivia?" Lewis returns with a folder in tow.

"Sergeant Benson," I interject assertively.

"Awe, I think we're past formalities by now." I swallow, holding my tongue.

"Lewis." My voice sounds husky. "Noah, he needs to eat, his blood sugar level is too low. He'll die."

"Well, you really should have thought of that when you left your house."

I open my mouth to protest, but then I don't. He's right. Everything I know about perps that dare target an officer in blue should have warned my conscious. I should have known that this type of premeditated encounter would last more than an hour. But, I had illusions. Realistic, maybe, at the time he called. But dangerous...deadly now. Because of my foolish hope, my son's going to die. How could I let this happen?

"Well, I'd love to witness the rest of your little pity-party, but you and I share something in common." I look up at him quizzically. He continues, "After all, we both want him alive for our showdown." I squirm in my seat, uneasiness clumping in the pit of my soul. Withdrawing a cheap juice box from his pant pocket, he flicks it toward Noah. It plops down a little less than a foot away from Noah's tethered foot. I freeze in shock. Relief and unease tear at my emotions. "I'm not some idiot, come on Olivia, give me a little more credit than that," Lewis scoffs. "Why the hell else would I let him eat dinner? What? Out of the goodness of my heart!" I turn away, I suppose the naïve part of me thought that was true. "Honey," he huffs as he leans in close, as if he were whispering a wish in Santa's ear. "I have no heart."

"Lewis," I sigh, "just let Noah leave. You have me now."

"I read your file." He cracks open the folder. "About when you and Billy took that trip to the Red Hook Grain Terminal. You remember that?" How could I forget?

"Please."

"And why should I do that?"

"He won't tell anyone anything."

"Oh sure, while I'm at it, I'll just give you the keys to my car." He shrugs sarcastically. "Really now? Your brat's not going to try and help his mommy? Do you think I'm stupid?" He yells. The situation is quickly elevating, and I can't let his temper explode. If Lewis is anything like his son, which he is, provoking him especially at this point of the game isn't wise.

I rush, "No, no, I don't think you're stupid."

"I'm not some punk you can play, remember that. I mean I know how the court works, the protocol, and especially the damning testimonies. And you know as well as I that when children testify, no juror goes against their allegations."

"He won't testify, he's not old enough to be sworn in, okay."

"No matter, he's a material witness, and he's a cop's kid."

"That's right, he's a cop's kid. Any good lawyer will accuse the N.Y.P.D. of coercing an allegation because of my past trial conviction of your son," I improvise.

"Oh wait, you mean the one you committed perjury on. That conviction?" He slants his head. "The one you announced on public television? Tell me Olivia, you never intended to right the wrongs of your dirty, little secret out of the blue. Hmph, no one's that stupid, especially not a cop, not you. I mean your credibility would have been shot for any future trial. Not to mention your reputation of being a good-boy cop would fly out the window. So, that leads me to believe that you even lied during your public confession. My son's smart, but I'll give you this, you're just as smart, smarter probably, but weaker. Tell the truth, Sergeant, why did you reveal your secret?"

"You already know why. Come on, you've figured that out. You don't need me to hold your hand," I say contemptuously.

Lewis nods with a smirk in understanding. "You know, Billy was about his age when he had a babysitter." He tips his crown at Noah. "Who knows, maybe you're harboring a little monster. I mean my son looked as innocent as an angel, but underneath his charming face and charisma was a little devil sprouting," he taunts.

This isn't working; I'm wasting my time trying to appeal to matters of trial. He's having too much fun toying with me, and he knows that he has me in a sprung trap. "Lewis, you want me. You know you do. You let my son go." I comment firmly, changing my tactic.

Completely ignoring me, he adds, "I remember watching his face as I did his babysitter on the floor. You should have seen him, his eyes wide like he wanted a turn too." I shudder in disgust, clenching my teeth.

"Lewis, please. Just stop," I twist my head unwilling to let his vile words continue to taint Noah's ears.

Lewis begins circling the chair again. Taking a breath, he questions, "What if I were to let little Noah go?" My ears perk up hearing a possible negotiation deal. What would you do for me?"

"If you promise me that Noah will stay alive, I will do whatever you want," I phrase cautiously as not to sound extremely desperate. Lewis wouldn't like that from me. He thrives in controlling his victims, every psychopath does. He wants to break me down into pieces, and then hammer them until nothing remains but emptiness. The only way to keep this fish on the hook is to reel it in slow and carefully. I have no illusions this time. I can't afford to be sloppy and overly hopeful, not with Noah's life on the line.

"Maybe I'll consider your deal if you're a good girl." Lewis shrugs indifferently with a passive wave. "So what's it gonna be?" He squats as if he were chastising a child. "Are you gonna be a sweet girl for me Liv?" I don't answer, but he sees the resisting defeat in my eyes.

End of Chapter