But there is an ugly underbelly to his request. I was drinking that night, and now I’m not sure what happened. I swore Officer Brennan took me home but maybe I imagined it? Maybe it was a dream?
Is that possible?
Jesus Christ, Kiki.
“Simply admit that your memory might not be what you originally thought. Corroborate the stories of two highly decorated officers. Don’t you want your life back? One retraction can make the last several months go away.” He folds his hands and studies me like he’s being unfailingly reasonable. “Think carefully about what you want your life to look like when this is all over, Kiki. That’s all I’m asking.”
My heart stutters in my chest.
Lie for me, and I’ll set you free.
Tell the truth and I’ll ensure you pay forever.
He doesn’t say those words. He doesn’t have to.
And in that instant, I know he’s guilty—ofeverything. There’s not a doubt in my mind. Not anymore.
I push to my feet, though I’m not entirely convinced my legs will cooperate. All I know is I need to leave. Now. “You want me to help set a monster free? Are you insane?”
“You and your flair for the dramatics.” And then he laughs, a low, ugly sound, the sheer audacity of it stealing what little air I have left in my lungs.
The bastard finds me amusing. Finds being called a monster amusing.
Whatever scraps remained of the man I thought I married vanish into the ether, leaving the demon in his place.
Oh, he still wears Drake’s face. Still has the same sharp jaw, the same steady gaze, the same voice that once made me feel safe. But the man I built a life around is gone. Or maybe he was never there at all. Maybe he was always a cold, calculating, obscenely arrogant evil beneath a polished facade.
Because, despite my refusal to play his game, he’s not panicking.
This isn’t the desperate scrambling of an innocent man wrongly accused.
It’s confidence. The kind that comes from knowing there are still pieces on the board willing to move for you.
“I’m getting out of here, with or without you, Kiki.” His stony gaze pins me where I stand. “But you’d be a lot smarter to have me on your side.”
I turn and walk straight for the door, every nerve in my body screaming for distance. My hand hits the call button hard. Once. Twice. The few seconds it takes for the lock to buzz open feel endless, as if the room itself wants to trap me here with him.
The second the door gives, I’m out like a shot.
By the time I shove through the front doors and stumble into the parking lot, I’m no longer breathing so much as dragging air into lungs that refuse to work properly.
The sick truth? If he somehow got the charges dropped, my lifewouldget easier.
But that is not an option. Not now. Not ever.
And despite his claims that everyone saw me drunk and unruly, despite the momentary indecision where his interrogation skills tried to poke holes in my recollection—I remember what happened. What my gut has been screaming at me for months. What hindsight has illuminated in ugly, unforgiving detail.
And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the man I just left sitting in that visitation room is lying.
But if two cops are willing to corroborate something I know in my bones is false, then how many more are there?
How deep does this go?
How many people in Sparkwood, the same people already making my life a living hell, are tangled up in the same filth Drake swears he knows nothing about?
And by refusing to play along, by looking him in the eyeand saying no, how much bigger of a target did I just paint on my back?
I’m not entirely sure how I make it to the liquor store.
