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He nods. “Fair enough. If you’re here to argue Rome Montague’s innocence for the umpteenth time, no need. He made bail, though I’m still trying to figure out how.
I smile sweetly. “Anything’s possible.”
“So itwasyou,” he replies. “You know he’s not allowed within a mile of you, right? There’s no reality where you get to see him again until the trial is over. Even then, I’m not sure you’ll be able to visit him when he’s in maximum security.”
I ignore his resolute conviction that Rome is guilty. I can only fathom how guilty that video evidence must make him look. The DNA evidence he was forced to deposit inside poor, dead Penny doesn’t exactly help his case, either. But I can’t worry about that right now. I know Rome is out of jail, safely off the grid, so I can focus on finding who really did this and in the process, clear the name of the boy I’ve loved since we were teenagers.
“What happened with Will? You arrested him? Everybody cleared the hell out of there a little too fast for my taste. And Joshua? How is he a part of this?”
Elliot smooths his tie down, apparently weighing a decision in his mind.
“I want answers,” I add.
Elliot nods, circling behind me to close the door before he sits back at his desk. He turns off his monitor and swivels to face me, folding his arms across his chest. “We don’t have any answers yet.”
My stomach turns. “What do you mean, you don’t have any answers? You seemed to have plenty when we were at Will’s house.”
“Here’s what we do know.” He perches his fingers on the desk. “Both Will and Joshua Grayson had a number of video files on their personal laptops. Video files that included footage from your...time in captivity.” He meets my eyes. Elliot isn’t a total fucking coward, which is a good thing for him. “We haven’t been able to conclude how the files got there, or whether they had more involvement than essentially being hosts for incriminating material. We just don’t know yet, Avery. We’re still getting to know these guys, getting under their skin to figure out what makes them tick. They’re both smart, and they have money to throw at this. Lawyers. In different ways, they’re both making it near impossible for us to properly interrogate them.”
Elliot leans back in his seat and looks at me, and I damn well know what he’s going to say next. I can see it in his eyes and the set of his shoulders.
“Jesus, Elliot.” I raise a hand and rub at my temples. “Just ask me already. This isn’t like a middle-school date.”
He frowns. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“You’re going to ask me to talk to them, aren’t you?” I suddenly feel so exhausted that I could put my head down on Elliot’s desk and sleep right now. “Come on. I’ve sat across from a thousand guys just like this at my father’s company. I know what it means to be the bait.”
“All right, you do know. If you feel up to it, if you feel strong enough, andonlyif you feel strong enough...there’s a possibility that you could get much further with them than we’ve been able to. But Avery, I don’t want to push you. If this isn’t something you’re up to, then tell me right now, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
I don’t want to meet with them. I don’t want to put my body in a room with either of those men until I’ve sorted out all my feelings about this. Until I know who I can trust, and who has fucked me over. But figuring that out could take years. I don’t have years to figure out what the fuck happened to me and to Rome.I’ll die if it takes years.
So I’ll do this one thing. I’ll have these conversations if that’s what Elliot needs.
The fight seeps out of me like a gush of blood. I came here to get answers, and once again, I’m going to be the one to search for them.Can’t anybody help a girl out for once?
“I’ll drive, if you’d like.”
I meet Elliot’s eyes. “You want to go right now?”
“I don’t feel like we have a lot of time to wait.” He folds his hands on the desk, patient as ever. “Do you?”
“No.” He’s right. “There’s no time. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
AVERY
The jail reminds me of that basement.
It’s cold. Industrial. Concrete everywhere. Even the smell of it is somehow similar. It shouldn’t be. The jail is probably cleaned far more frequently than my prison with Rome ever was. It pulls my skin into goosebumps and makes me want to throw up the smoothie I choked down for breakfast. It rises in my throat, but I manage to swallow it back.
Elliot accompanies me as far as the private visitation room. He has a brief conversation with the guard outside, who agrees, by some miracle, to let me talk to Joshua alone, albeit with Elliot standing just outside the door. We’ve discussed it, and Elliot thinks it’s the only way Joshua will reveal anything. I think he’s probably right. That doesn’t change the fact that it still scares the shit out of me.
But not as much as being in that dungeon did.
I take my seat at the metal table—it reminds me of that table in our hellhole,fuck—and try to hold my emotions firmly in check until this conversation is over. I can fall apart in the safety of the parking lot once this is over.
A few minutes later, the wire-reinforced door opens and Joshua Grayson, my dear fiancé, is deposited inside by a burly guard who has four inches on him, easy.
