“I could say the same about you, Mr. Creed. Nothing you’ve given me so far will have a jury in your favor.”
“You think I give two shits about a jury liking me? I don’t.” He leaned into the table, his chains rattling. “Let me let you in on a little secret, agent.”
“Go on.”
“This?” He lifted his hands, flashing his cuffs. “Those?” He jutted his chin to the bolted door and the jail cells visible through the bullet-proof window. “They’re nothing. This has been a goddamn vacation for me.”
“I have here that you were in critical care not long ago. Inmates beating up on you is a vacation?”
“They tried at first, and they failed.” He grinned, recollecting himself into the Kane that flipped me off.
“Yes, I saw the complaints waged by thetwelveinmates you sent to the infirmary.” I scanned the file and frowned. “But this says that only a couple months ago after a stint of good behavior thatyouwere admitted with two fractured ribs, a torn shoulder,broken fingers, and were found knocked out cold. Those are fighting injuries.”
“No.”
“No?”
Kane looked away, openly breaking again.
Ashamed, I wrote down. “Are you saying you did that to yourself, Mr. Creed?”
He said nothing, tight-lipped.
Internalizes emotions.“How exactly did you even manage those injuries on your own?”
His nostrils flared. “Fuck off.”
I sat down my pen. “A wall?”
Nothing.
“I suppose maybe you could have thrown yourself off something…your bunk in the cell?”
“Why does it fucking matter?”
“It matters, Mr. Creed, if you tried to take your own life. That’s a true sign of a guilty conscience, of someone who is truly grieving and battling immense pain. That kind of information—you being vulnerable—is the kind of thing that might earn you some leniency. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the last I’ve sat with,” I explained. “I’ve interviewed Rafe, Arden, and we even brought in those associated with Alexander Creed for questioning—and while none of you have said much to the authorities, you’ve all been…self-destructive. You three, Creed, are harboring pain. It’s as plain as day. Now my job is to get your profile, sure, but it’s also to make sure there aren’t still facts that need to be on the table. If there isanythingyou all haven’t told us, now is the time.”
He stared me down. “Rafe…” His voice broke. “Arden…They tried to hurt themselves too?”
“Too, Mr. Creed?”
Kane scowled. “Fine, okay? You win. I tried to kill myself. You happy? Now tell me if they’re okay.”
“Why did you try to commit suicide?”
“I murdered innocent people. My brother is dead.”
He said it so bluntly, his torment so unbelievably clear and stark that I had to pause. I took a breath, steadying myself. “And those are related, aren’t they?” I asked. “Rafe mentioned a Viktor Shaw. He said you all were repeatedly raped at an estate as children and that you were forced to kill for a network of Buyers.”
Kane ran a hand over his mouth. “He told you that?”
I nodded. “He only gave two confessions at the precinct, though—his years at that estate and Thorne dying. I think he thought that was all we needed, but the thing is: Viktor Shaw doesn’t exist, Kane. At least not in any of our records. So I need more. If you want us making sure no other kids get hurt like Creed, then you need to start talking. Now.”
He hesitated, concern overtaking his features. He suddenly looked his true age of only twenty-three. He was a kid, really. Adult by law but still so impressionable. They all were. “Are Arden and Rafe okay?” he asked, his throat bobbing.
