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I keep my hands on my knees. I want to haul her up off this floor and into my chest and not let another man within reach of her.

She touches my split knuckles with her fingertips. She doesn't say she forgives me for that marker, and I don't ask her to. She takes her hand back.

An agent pulls Dutch's key ring out of the lock on her cell door. Another goes through his jacket and comes out with a cheap black flip phone. He bags it.

That has to be the phone that texted Audrey. Torres has had the carrier watching that number since he sent it.

A pair of agents haul Dutch up onto his feet with his hands cuffed behind him. He sways, with blood running out of his nose, and they start walking him toward the stairs. His path runs right past Delilah.

She gets up off the concrete, and I stand with her. Her legs aren't steady. She plants her hand on my shoulder and puts her weight on it, and I keep my hands at my sides.

"Dutch," she says.

He turns his wrecked face toward her.

She drives her sneaker up between his legs so hard his heels come off the concrete. He folds in half and goes down on his knees with a high, thin sound I've never heard a grown man make, not even under a bull.

"That's for every night in this hall," she tells him.

"She can't do that," one of the agents holding Dutch says.

Torres looks up from her lead agent. "Do what? I didn't see anything." She looks down the hall at her people. "Did anybody else?"

Nobody says a word.

Delilah takes her hand off my shoulder. The agents haul Dutch back up, and he goes up the stairs bent double between them.

The agent with the key ring turns toward the hall. Before he can take a step, Delilah holds out her hand.

He looks at her bloody face and raw wrists, then at me. I don't say a word. It isn't my call. He puts the keys in her palm and follows her with his light.

She walks down the hall to the one cell still locked. A woman calls out from inside, low to the floor.

"It's Jenna. I'm down flat like you said. I'm not moving till somebody tells me to."

"It's Delilah. You can get up now."

She tries keys until one turns. The barred door swings open, and a tall woman with a hard mouth climbs off the floor and stands in the doorway.

She stares at Delilah, grabs her in a quick hug, and steps back.

"You said the lights would go out," Jenna says. "I listened."

"I didn't know for sure if they would," Delilah says. "I just knew Torres would come."

An agent wraps a jacket around Jenna's shoulders and walks her toward the stairs. Delilah comes back up the hall and doesn't hand the keys over.

Raven comes over my earpiece from the tunnel, broken up by the rock. "Truck never moved. The Ranger's got it boxed in at the roll-up door. The driver's face down on the gravel, and his license says Gil Strackbein. Two women in the trailer. Kaylee Burke and Marisol Treviño. Scared and scraped up, but alive. I'm walking them out now."

"Beckett's with me," she adds. "Jesse says the ridge road's quiet."

"Both women in the truck are alive," I tell Delilah. "Raven's got them."

She closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them, she's looking past me at the stairs.

"Where's Whitlock?"

"He wasn't with the masked men. Three of them were stuck at the front door with no key that fits. Torres has people sweeping the racks for him."