I'm taken to a room, with white walls, a mirror on one side, and a table with four chairs in the middle.
A woman strides into the room wearing what looks like a very expensive suit. "Remove her cuffs." She waves off the officer who brought me in.
He releases the cuffs from my wrists, and the blood rushes back into my hands. I wince as I work my fingers, getting the feeling back. The officer leaves the room, and the woman flashes me a smile.
"I'm Detective Lawson," she introduces herself. I don't respond. "Please, sit." She gestures to the chair in front of me, and I take a seat. "Is there anything I can get you? Anything to eat or drink?" She keeps her voice soft, as though she might scare me.
I glare at her. "No. Thank you."
She nods and pulls out the chair opposite me. There's a long moment of silence as she watches me.
"Can you tell me your name?" She asks.
I instantly tense. Anything I say could implicate Jude, so I say nothing, keeping my eyes fixed on the table. I jump when I feel her hand touch mine. "He can't hurt you anymore, Victoria."
I narrow my eyes at her, pulling my hands underneath the table. "So you already know my name."
She purses her lips. "Your facial profiling and fingerprints match one Miss Victoria Deveaux. Only, Miss Deveaux is presumed deceased."
"Well, I'm not," I whisper.
"I can see that." Her gaze strays down to my stomach. "I can see that." She repeats, and then hesitates. "Victoria, I just want to ask you some questions. I want to help you, but I need to ascertain your involvement in the murder of Joe Campbell, and your connection to Jude Pearson."
I don't want her help; I just want Jude. My stomach twists violently as I think about what has happened to him. We killed Joe. We're going to prison. Tears prick my eyes as I think of spending my life behind bars. I press my hand to the small bump, straining against the front of my t-shirt. Will my baby be raised by strangers? Will she never know who I am? Worse, will she think I'm a criminal?
She nods as she exhales. "Victoria, you went missing seven months ago..."
I grit my teeth. "I know."
"How does a resident from Vanderbilt University end up with a notorious bookie from Alabama? Help me understand why you were with him when you were arrested." I start to feel pressured to say something, anything. I couldn't even make up a lie elaborate enough to cover this, so I tell her the truth. Rich took me.
"I... My ex-boyfriend owed him a debt. One of his enforcers took me instead. It was a mistake."
She nods, and something in her expression changes. She's curious, eager to know my story. "Your ex-boyfriend being Euan Wright." I nod. "Are you aware that Mr. Wright was killed shortly after your disappearance?"
Again, I don't respond.
"I can't help you if you won't say anything."
"I have nothing to say."
"You had Joe Campbell's blood all over you Victoria. You are a suspect in a murder case."
I flash her a cold, hard look and remain silent.
"Jude Pearson abducted you, held you hostage." Her eyes flick to my stomach again. "Abused you," her voice is barely above a whisper.
I glare at her, anger bubbling to the surface. "He did not abuse me," I snap.
She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me. "Do you know who the father of your baby is, Victoria?"
"Yes." I grate.
"Who is the father?" She pushes, refusing to take my one-word answers. I say nothing.
"We can take DNA samples and find out either way," she threatens.
I don't want them touching my baby. "Jude is her father."
I see the judgement in her eyes, the pity for the poor girl who was abducted and raped. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Charge me or release me."
She nods solemnly and leaves the room.
I'm going crazy. I keep telling myself this is all just some nightmare, that Jude will get out of this because he's Jude, and he always gets out of everything right? Shit. He has to. I know he wouldn't leave me. I've never felt so vulnerable. Whatever happened to me, no matter how awful, I somehow always knew that he would come. I knew that he would save me from anything, but with him in prison... I feel so painfully alone.
Everyone keeps telling me it's over now, and no one will hurt me. I don't want it to be over. I would rather live in Jude's world, surrounded by danger, than in this one without him. Safety, security... what's it worth really? Safety assures survival. Jude is my life. I want to live, not survive.
I've been asked the same questions over and over for what seems like days. Back and forth they go until I snap and tell them again what I've already told them: I love Jude, and I killed Joe. They take my clothes, DNA samples, photograph the scars littering my body, and even want to do a rape examination on me. It's at this point I lose my shit and refuse to speak to them anymore. It's clear that I've gone from suspect to victim over the course of their questions. Eventually they send a woman into the room to ask me more bloody questions. She wants to 'help'. I'm a doctor. I know a shrink when I see one. She was doing a psych evaluation. They think I have Stockholm syndrome, which is bullshit. I mean, yes I fell in love with a man who held me hostage, but... he didn't really. He let me go. I chose to stay with him. I was with him by choice, not necessity.
Just when I think they can't possibly have any more questions, I'm led to another interrogation room, this one without a mirror.
When the detective walks in, I can tell she's not like the others. She has a no bullshit manner about her. She's wearing a fitted trouser suit and high heels. Her red hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, showcasing her sculpted cheekbones. She's pretty, except for her eyes, which remind me of a snake stalking its prey.
"Miss Devaux, I'm Detective Lowe." She throws her badge onto the table and takes a seat opposite me. I glance at it. FBI.
"I already told them..."
"I'm going to cut to the chase. I'm not after you, Miss Devaux. My job is to go after much bigger fish than you. I want Jude Pearson."
I narrow my eyes at her. "I don't know anything."
She smiles. "I have a trail of bodies all pointing to Pearson, but not enough evidence to nail him to the wall, and I really want to nail him to the fucking wall, Miss Devaux. I need a witness statement saying he killed Joe Campbell, and you watched him do it."
"I killed Joe Campbell," I say coldly.
"Oh, I know." She pulls out a file and dumps out pictures. "This is the gun used to kill Campbell. It has your fingerprints on it, and there was gun powder residue on your hands, meaning you fired it. Lastly, the trajectory of the bullet when it hit Joe Campbell's body was the wrong angle for someone of Pearson's height, but the perfect angle for someone of your height."
"Why are you telling me this? I just told you I killed him."
Her lips twist into a smile. "Because I don't care that you killed him. You are going to testify to the fact that Jude pulled the trigger."
"What?" My head is spinning. "Why?"
Her eyes lock with mine. "Because if you don't, I will put forward this evidence and have you arrested for the murder of Joe Campbell. You will serve life in prison, and that baby," she points at my stomach, "will be brought up in foster care." I swallow hard.
"I'm not going to let Jude take the fall for something I did," I choke, trying to conceal my weakness.
"Oh, honey." She huffs a small laugh. "He's going down either way. I have him on money laundering, illegal gambling, extortion, perverting the course of justice. I have enough to get him fifteen years, but like I said..." She leans forward in her seat. "I want to nail him to the wall. I need something solid." She sits back again and smooths the front of her jacket. "Your call. You can both go to prison, or you can save yourself and raise your love child." She cocks an eyebrow.
"I've already told the other officers I killed Joe."
She shrugs. "The ramblings of an abused girl suffering from Stockholm syndrome."
My heart is thrumming, my breathing laboured. I'm going to jail for killing Joe. It seems so unjust, to suffer what I did at the hands of that man, and then go to prison for the rest of my life for killing him.
I shake my head. "If they think I have Stockholm syndrome, then I can plead insanity," I whisper.
"Yes, you can, and they will section you, and take your baby away as soon as it's born." She tilts her head to the side. "I'm giving you options here Miss Devaux. As I said, I care very little about you, it's him I want. I need a witness statement from a girl who he kidnapped. I need the jury to see the man that Jude Pearson is."
"He's not a bad person..." I fumble.
Sighing, she rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. You love him. I guess you really do have Stockholm." She meets my eyes. "In a few months, when you're rotting in a jail cell, and you've gotten over this little thing you have for your captor, you will regret not taking this opportunity."
I shake my head, cutting her off. "No, I won't do it."
Her lips purse, and she pauses for a moment, drumming her fingers over the desk. "I tell you what, I'll give you a week. Go home, be with your family, and think about the fact that Jude Pearson is a criminal who kidnapped you. Your loyalties to him are misplaced. Think long and hard about whether you are willing to spend your life behind bars for a man who has killed enough people to serve ten life sentences."
I can't say anything. She has me over a barrel, and she knows it.
She stands up and moves to the door, holding it open for me. I move past her.
"One week." She repeats. I walk away without looking back at her.
“I’ll be in touch.” She calls after me. I keep walking.
Finally, they contact my sister and tell her I'm alive.
I sit in the small family room, staring blankly at the TV on the wall. I used to want nothing more than to go back to my old life, to see my sister, to go back to my job. Now though, I can't think, I can't feel. My sister seems like the distant memory of someone else, someone who hasn't seen and experienced all I have, someone untainted by the darkness that now clings to the edges of my world. I am not the same person I was all those months ago.
A few minutes later and the door clicks open. The shrink from earlier steps into the room, an overbearing smile on her face. "Victoria, your sister is here. Would you like me to bring her in?"
I hate this, the tiptoeing around as if I'm some fragile abuse victim. I nod mutely. I have to get this over with at some point. The woman disappears and then my sister is walking into the room.
"Oh, Ria!" Just the sound of that name on her lips makes me flinch. I've come to associate it with Caleb, because in these past months, he was the only one to call me by that name.
As I watch her approach, I can't help but feel as though Caleb was more of a sibling to me than the woman walking towards me. Maybe my mind is warped. I should be thrilled to see her, happy to be back with the only family I have left. When did the people who ripped me away from her become my family?
Lizzy throws her arms around my neck, sobs wracking her body. I feel... I don't know... the tug of old memories, pulling at the edges of my mind. I wrap my arms around her.
"I can't believe it," she cries. "I thought you were dead." She pulls back, her tear filled eyes meeting mine.
Her eyes are the same steely shade of blue as mine; her pale blonde hair hangs in a neat bob. Lizzy has always been so perfectly put together. She always knew what she wanted, had it all planned out, and so did I, until Jude.
"I'm so happy to have you here, in my arms." She sniffs. I still don't say anything. I'm not sure what there is to say. Her eyes study my face, searching for traces of emotion. "Are you... are you okay?"
I look away from her, focusing on a spot over her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine." As fine as I could possibly be right now. I don't know how much they've told her.
"What happened to you?" she whispers. I meet her eyes again and stare at her for a long moment. She won't understand any of this.
"Nothing."
Her eyes flick downward and fix on my throat, on the ugly scar that runs six inches across it. She swallows hard, her eyebrows pinching together. "Ria—"
"Please, call me Victoria." I cut her off. She looks hurt, and for a second I feel bad. She's always called me Ria, but it's just... I can't.
She nods and glances away, the tension thick between us. "Well, I guess I should take you home."
Home. The word makes stomach clench. It's as though the second I step foot back into my old life, my life with Jude will disappear, as if it never really existed. The two cannot exist side by side.
She takes my hand, linking her fingers through mine. I just feel, numb, disconnected, as though I'm watching someone else go through the motions, but it's not really me. What choice do I have but to go with her? Jude is locked up. Lizzy is all I have .
I shove my free hand into the front pocket of the massive hoody one of the officers gave me to wear after they took my clothes. I hate that it smells of another man.
I can feel Lizzy's eyes on me the entire way back to her house. Her husband John drives, quietly humming along to the radio.
My eyelids start to grow heavy. I'm emotionally and physically drained. I'm tired of fighting every step of the way, and just when things look up, I'm knocked flat on my back again. I pull my knees up to my chest and curl up against the door of the car. As soon as I close my eyes, all I can see is blood, and Joe's lifeless body. I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.