“Please take me directly to the Rockland Police Department.”
His worried gaze shifts to the road ahead, and the car bounds forward. I relax against the seat, my adrenaline tapering off, leaving me drained.
I’m still clutching the key in my hand, the teeth biting into my palm.
I close my eyes. Hear Nelson asking me what happened to the key…the murder weapon. He was right; my practice has always been my haven. My most salacious secrets kept there, safe. Hidden.
It can’t be anymore. Grayson is my haven now. My secrets reside withinus.
I feel along my suit pocket, tracing the outline of a USB drive. I slipped it into my pocket in the elevator, not thinking about it in the moment, unnerved from the confrontation. Thedrive was taped next to the key. Only one person could’ve placed it there.
During the ride, I continue to take deep breaths, calming myself further. I gather my thoughts in preparation.
I’ve been to the jailhouse before, to visit a patient who’d been locked up for public drunkenness. I stood on the other side of the bars, scared to get too near them, thinking how much they reminded me of the cell in my father’s cellar. I recognized the brand name on the cell door lock—the same name that was on the door to my father’s cellar cage.
Coincidence or fate?
With shaky hands, I open the locket I brought from home and slip the key inside, then drape the chain over my head. I find a thin scarf in my purse and layer it over the chain and the purpling bruises along my neck.
Then I scrape a fingernail file beneath my nails and place the skin and blood inside my compact. I make the call.
“Young,” I say when he answers. “Get me access to Grayson.”
He talks on about procedure and regulation and strict enforcement…and I hear none of it. “Make it happen,” I demand and hang up.
I make one last call before we’re parked in front of the building where Grayson is being kept under heavy guard. I pay my fair and leave the safe confines of the cab, phone pressed to my ear.
I talk hurriedly, keeping the communication short.
Agent Nelson has become more than a complication. He’s become a barrier. He’s unpredictable. And that frightens me more than the walls between Grayson and me now.
I turn off my phone and adjust my suit, situating myself. If it was just a matter of killing the FBI agent, then it would be less problematic. A single, large dose of succinylcholine, and he’d beone less obstacle to hurdle. But we placed Nelson in a position of power for a reason—and it’s too late to change the game.
I lift my chin as I steadily walk toward the jailhouse, arming myself with layers of confidence. Dr. London Noble has the status and authority to overturn any official. I believed this before; I have to believe it now.
Above reproach.
Agent Nelson isn’t the only one with the law on his side.
You’re his muse.
Wrong again.
From the moment I placed my hand in Grayson’s on that roof, everything has been my choice. I wondered when it was that the dynamic between us was established…and now I know. It was then. Right then.
Amid ourFolie à deux—our madness shared by two—I am the dominant.
It has always been me.
21
FATED RUIN
GRAYSON
Gray cinderblock and iron bars. A trap of my own design. So familiar it should feel consoling—but I pace the length of the holding cell. A wild animal. This time it’s different. Because this time, there’s someone on the outside that matters.
I underestimated Nelson.
