“Given the experiences I’ve had so far in this city, the men you hang around have a way of protecting themselves and I,” he pauses to suck in a breath, his brow rising before falling back into place. He lets out the breath and continues, “I hadn’t realized how close you were to them until recently.”
Tick, tick, my heart beats faster than the clock. I want to tell him that I’m not close to the Cross brothers, but I don’t say a word. Remembering that not speaking is my best defense. If they charge me, I’ll get a lawyer. Right now I’m in holding and having a lawyer won’t change that. I’m aware of my rights.
“I don’t know what will happen to you after you leave here, and that worries me.”
The concern he displays nearly makes me respond that I’ll be safe with Seth, but that’s none of his business. Not only that, but I don’t know how I could ever be with Seth again. My throat tightens at remembering what started this domino effect.
I have to clear my throat before I can tell Officer Walsh I don’t have anything to say other than the initial statement I gave. It was self-defense and I hardly remember anything at all. I told them everything happened so fast and I was so scared that I think I blacked out. It was the best excuse I could come up with at the time and now I’m sticking to it.
“The thing is, one of the men was a cop. So even if they get you out of here, the investigation won’t stop.”
Out of a nervous habit, I grab the coffee and sip. I’d rather drink than speak.
“There are men who aren’t in the back pocket of the Cross brothers. Men who also break the law and they’ll go around it to see someone pay for Officer Darby’s death.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask and the shock is unrestrained, new fear coming to life.
“No. Not at all.” His response is quickly spoken, his eyes wide like he wasn’t anticipating my reaction in the least. The next thing he says is spoken with strength and sincerity. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you.” My question obviously shook him and his answer was quick and sincere. “I don’t want you to be involved. It can’t end well for you if you are.”
My nod is imperceptible as I absently scratch my nail against the paper coffee cup.
Words sit on the tip of my tongue. An explanation that the cop is obviously in the wrong, but now I question everything. Seth shot first. The masked man had the gun raised though. I’ve played it so many times in the back of my mind that the sequence of events is a blur and for a split second I’m not sure if I am remembering correctly. Inwardly I shake my head. Seth shot first. I know that truth. But those men threatened me with deadly force, the cop included. If I could go back, I wouldn’t want Seth to wait and see whether or not the trigger was pulled. If he had, I might be dead.
It has to mean something that I was threatened in my own home. That has to be important. The most important thing. All the words tangle at the back of my throat and I can’t swallow.
They strangle me.
Cody Walsh looks down at me with such sympathy, I nearly crack and ask him to tell me if it matters. It has to matter, doesn’t it?
My ass feels numb as I readjust in my seat, suddenly aware of how uncomfortable I am. My eyes are dry and burning. Of all the fatigues and pains, they hurt almost the most. Almost.
My fingers spread across my chest as I feel the faint pumping of my battered heart. Nothing could hurt worse than this.
I haven’t forgotten what Seth confessed. The pain is proof of that.
“Let me help you,” the good officer suggests as if he can. Nothing can help me. I won’t betray Seth. I barely survived the first time. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I do it again. With weary eyes, I close them lightly, refusing to answer.
I have to sniff, breaking the silence and suddenly feeling stuffy. I haven’t cried and I’m proud of that. In the face of everything crumbling around me, I don’t feel the need. What’s done is done and now I wait. It’s all I can do.
“The death sentence is a possibility in this state, Laura. You don’t want to risk this,” he stresses.
“I don’t have anything to say, Officer Walsh,” I say and my voice is eerily calm. At my decision, the click of the air conditioner returns. I keep my eyes on Cody, but he moves his to the vent.
Although it genuinely tugs at my lips, I let out a small humorless laugh when he turns to look at the door, as if he’ll see through it to whomever has turned the air back on.
It’s a long moment before he says, “We can hold you for forty-eight hours without charging you.”
I don’t look at him. The metal table holds all my attention because it plays my life back for me like a movie. From the first time I laid eyes on Seth King to the sight he was last night. Forty-eight hours in here. I can make it that long. The tick, tick, tick of the ever-present clock calms any anxiousness I have. It’s a balm to my torn soul, even if my hands do shake in my lap.
“Laura.” The way the officer says my name grips my gaze, forcing me to look him in the eyes. They’re the most tranquil of blues and riddled with concern. It would be touching if I didn’t feel so much peace at the thought of simply being alone. “He killed one of us. They aren’t going to let this go.”
I don’t respond. I don’t have anything to say and I’ve already made that clear.
“Please, let me help you,” he beseeches.
My hands are hot when I press them to my eyes, breathing in deep and feeling the weight of everything pulling me under what feels like the roughest of tides.
I’ve been beyond help for quite some time. Forty-eight more hours isn’t going to change that.
Seth
I never thought I’d be grateful for the cold. I’ve always hated how cold it gets on the East Coast; it numbs the pain, though. Most of it. So the cold is something I need, something I focus on to keep me moving.
At least four men are guiding me, shoving me forward and keeping my arms pinned behind me. Listening to everything, every breath, every step they make—that’s the only information I have to go on to figure out how many there are, how big they are and what I’m up against.
Without the cold, I’d be burning hot with the need to react. The clang of the metal grates beneath my feet sparks recognition immediately. Thank fuck for that, because I can’t see a damn thing with the bag over my head.
The grates on the edge of the parking lot let me know my location without a doubt. I’m away from Laura and her place. That is the only silver lining to this fucking ending. They’re moving away from my Laura. At least she’ll be all right. The thought is calming in the best and worst of ways.
The sound of crickets, along with leaves blowing indicates the woods behind Laura’s apartment complex are to my left. The longer I’m out here, the more information I have, and the more settled I become. The telltale whoosh of a van door opening sounds to my right. I don’t react; I don’t let them know I’m even halfway with it.
According to the men taking me in, I reek of whiskey, I’m bleeding out and there’s no way I’ll make it.
Let them think I’m drunk. Let them think I’m slowly losing consciousness.