“I’ll cook later this evening when we’re done downstairs.” And with that, he disappears up to his room. Probably to change clothes. Heaven forbid he gets a little blood on the Armani.
When I turn back to my bowl, it’s gone. What the fuck? Declan is standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, looking like a snack in black cargo pants and a tight T-shirt, and he’s eating my fucking cereal.
“Give that back.”
“Snooze you lose.” He winks and takes one last bite before putting the bowl in the sink.
“You better put that in the dishwasher or Ms. T is going to kick your ass.” I raise an eyebrow at him and hop off of the barstool to go find shoes. I hear the clattering of dishes as Declan does exactly what I said. It's kind of funny how these big bad murderous men cater to the whims of Ms. T.
Akio and Matteo appear, walking down the stairs together while I’m tying my tennis shoes. I hop up to follow them down the hall to the basement stairs with Declan at my heels. He is practically vibrating, clearly looking forward to this torture session.
I can't help but notice the differences between what I experienced and what O'Brian is going through. “Why aren’t you guys wearing the masks for this?” The question blurts out of me before I can stop it.
Matteo’s steps falter for a moment, but he continues on down the stairs. “Because, Menace, we hadn’t decided on whether or not we were going to let you go. And if we were going to keep that option open, we couldn’t let you know who we were.”
“Ahhh, so Declan ruined your plans when he took off his mask.” Dec chuckles behind me. I have no doubt his reveal was calculated and intentional. What I find interesting though, is that Matteo and Akio don't respond, but I swear one of them growls under their breath.
Matteo gets the cell door open and we file in, taking a moment to observe Officer O'Brian’s form. His head is drooping with exhaustion but he’s unable to truly rest because of the restraints on the chair. His skin is sweaty and pale, blood still coats the ground at his feet, and there is the slightest tremble to his entire body. The burns and cuts on his chestlook infected. When he picks his head up to look at us, I see his eyes are bloodshot and bruising covers several parts of his face. His skin is drawn, making him look ill. It’s amazing what three days with no food, no sleep, and very little water will do to the body.
I’m starting to realize that these guys really did take it easy on me.
“Just kill me.” His voice is barely more than a croak. I have to remind myself of all he’s done in order to fight back a pang of sympathy.
“The more you answer our questions, the sooner this will end.” Matteo doesn’t say he’s going to kill him, but we all know it’s true. O'Brian just nods in response.
“Tell us about the cases you buried or covered up,” Akio says while following Declan to the table full of well-used tools.
“I can’t remember specifics. In a lot of cases of missing girls, I classified them as runaways… and a few other situations here and there.”
Declan rolls out the tools onto the table. He and Akio both pick out one and turn to O'Brian. “Well, maybe this will help you remember.” Declan walks to him and grabs his fingernail with the pliers he chose.
I find myself several steps closer to Matteo when the screaming starts. When it stops, there are four fingernails on the ground and a sobbing cop trembling in the chair.
“The runaways I truly can’t remember details. They’re all the same. I just keep the attention off those cases and they fade away.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, and disgust rolls through me at the disregard he has for lives he seems to think are beneath him. “There were a few assaults I made go away or I discredited victims so that nothing came of it.”
Anger churns in my stomach. I know exactly what that feels like. I went to my father, who brushed my attack off as a drunken night. Quinn pushed me to go to the cops, and after making the report they contactedme again with further questions. All of those questions hinted at the attack being my fault in some way, so I dropped it altogether.
“How many?” My voice rings out, and I take a step forward. “How many assaults did you cover up?”
“Dozens.” He won't look me in the face. “Including yours.”
My heart drops. My palms start sweating, and there is a buzzing in my ears. I’m not crazy, which is relieving, but the reality of what really happened with reporting my attack is making me feel ill.
When I look around the room I am met with several variations of the same emotion coloring the features of the guys’ faces: rage.
“Who put you up to it? Covering hers and the others? Is it one person or do you do this for anyone willing to pay?” Matteo has his arms crossed as he watches every reaction of this man.
O'Brian raises his head to look him dead in the eye before I see the defeat wash over his features. If he wants a quick death, his only shot is answering these questions. “People at Helix Enterprises. All the cases I have buried come from them and were done at the request of my contact.”
My jaw clenches as another piece of damning evidence comes forward. How could I have been so blind? If I went back, would I notice any of this going on, or is it hidden as well as it seems?
“Who at Helix Enterprises is your contact?” Matteo has now retrieved a weapon of his own. He’s holding a silver handgun, just waiting for an excuse to use it. Akio moves closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine.
“Clay Ensling. He was behind most of the assaults.” He pauses, choking up and struggling to speak through the strain in his voice. “Clay was the one who attacked you.”
All eyes are on me. Akio looks ready to sweep me away from here, to protect me from this. Declan’s face contorts in rage, his whole body tensed and ready for battle. And Matteo looks at me, almost… defeated.
Numbness washes over me. I have no idea what I’ll do with this information. That’s for tomorrow Fallon to figure out. My body moves of its own accord as I pluck the knife from Akio’s hand with unfeeling fingers and approach O'Brian. His eyes are pleading, but he knows it’s time to pay for everything that he’s done. The guys look ready to intervene, but they hold themselves back, letting me exact whatever revenge I need to.
