“Ms. Laker?” I half-plead, desperate forsomething.
I was starting to think they’d left me to rot.
“Call me Rachel, please.” She flicks a look at me, my dress, the table, the saltines, and then, eyes hard, inquires, “How long have you kept my client in here?”
“Days,” I rasp bitterly. “I’ve requested a lawyer so many times since they brought me in on Friday night.”
“It’s Sunday evening!” she protests, tracking the marks on my face. “I’ll be reporting this to the proper authorities once we’re done.”
“You can report a lot else besides. His partner—” I sneer at Wallowicz. “—sexually and physically assaulted me.”
As the detective sputters, “There’s no proof of that! She came in all bruised.” Rachel slams her case on the table. “I beg your pardon?!”
“You turned the cameras away,” I slip in. “When I came back from making my phone call, they were all properly situated. Imagine that—you didn’t want proof of the cops literally torturing me with sleep deprivation, denying me access to the bathroom, barely providing me with any food or drink… I could go on.”
Her fury is a living entity and, God, the sight of it has me back on the brink of tears.
Someone cares.
Wallowicz escapes in the face of it before she takes a seat at my side and we discuss my stay at Interrogation Room 101.
“Do not make a single comment unless I tell you to,” she barks at me, and while I knew she was nice, I find myself liking her even more.
Straight to business, no bullshit—just cold, hard resolve.
Damn, no wonder Wynter decided to switch careers to emulate her mom.
What a girl boss.
“I won’t say a word during the interview.”
“Good. We should have you out shortly. Seeing as you haven’t been charged, they’re holding you illegally.”
I sag against the table. “Thank you for coming. I’m so grateful?—”
Rachel clucks her tongue. “Of course I was going to come. And not only because Wynter freaked out when she overheard you’d been arrested.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, is she okay?”
“Yes.” Her lips purse with disapproval. And I just know, somehow, she’s learned about Wynter’s attempt to join the Veronians.
“I don’t approve of how you met but… there’s no denying how close you’ve grown. Wynter finds it hard to make friends. She’s a social butterfly on the surface but nobody ever digs beneath. I saw the other day that you’d burrowed your way in.”
“I have? I-I hope I have. I mean, I like her too.” I lick my lips. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. She’s fine. Back in Poughkeepsie.”
“I’m glad. I know she’s strong, but I don’t think she’d have been able to deal with…” I waft a hand that encompasses the interrogation room. “…this.”
“Neither of you should have had to,” she fumes, but then she contains her pique and straightens her shoulders. The sharp lash of her disapproval sinks behind an icy mask that reveals little to no emotion, only for it to soften for a split second with a pat to my back. “Regardless, let’s get you out of here. To be brutally honest, sweetie, you stink.”
“I can imagine.”
“Theydidtorture you,” she insists.
I lower my eyes but don’t answer.
“You’re getting into bed with the devil, Victoria. Both of you need to reconsider your plan of attack if not the whole idea.”
