"He's going to try to arrest me." My voice is surprisingly calm. "For Cain's murder."
"He's going to try. But he won't succeed." Levi sets the subpoena on the desk, his jaw tight. "We've got everything we need to destroy him. It's time to use it."
"How?"
"You're going to walk into that interrogation room. You're going to answer his questions. And then you're going to tell him exactly what his son did to you, and exactly what happens if he doesn't back off."
Fear clutches at my chest. "Levi, I can't?—"
"You can." He takes my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You're the strongest person I know, Ripley. You survived three years of hell. You can survive one conversation with a bully in a suit."
"What if I freeze? What if I can't?—"
"You won't freeze. You know why?" His thumbs stroke my cheeks. "Because you're not that scared girl anymore. You're not the woman who flinched and cowered and believed she was worthless. You've grown. You've healed. And you're ready to fight back."
I want to believe him. Want to believe I'm strong enough to face down the father of the man who tormented me for years.
"Will you be there?" I ask. "Waiting for me?"
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll be right outside that door. The moment you're done, I'll be there."
I take a breath. Then another.
"Okay," I say finally. "Let's do this."
The interrogation room is exactly as I remember it.
Gray walls. Metal table. Two chairs on one side, one on the other. A mirror that's obviously two-way, reflecting my pale face back at me.
I sit in the single chair and wait.
The door opens.
Chief Douglas Varro walks in, followed by a detective I don't recognize.
They take their seats across from me, arranging papers, making me wait.
It's a power play, and we both know it.
"Ms. Tiernan," Varro says finally. "Thank you for coming in."
"I didn't have much choice."
"No. I suppose you didn't." He folds his hands on the table, his expression almost sympathetic. "I want you to understand something. You're not the target here. You're a witness. A victim, even. My interest is in finding out who killed my son, and I believe you can help me do that."
"I've already told you everything I know."
"Have you?" He tilts his head. "Because I've been doing some digging, Ms. Tiernan. And I've found some... interesting things."
He pulls a photograph from his folder. Slides it across the table.
It's me. At the clubhouse, maybe two weeks ago. Levi's arm is around me, and I'm looking up at him with an expression that's impossible to misread.
"You've gotten quite close to President Hale since Cain's death," Varro observes. "Remarkably close, for a grieving girlfriend."
"Cain beat me." The words come out flat. Steady. "For three years. I was never his girlfriend. I was his prisoner."
"So you say."
