peace. I want him. To hold me, listen to me. Just like he did the first night we met. It was enough, it was everything I craved and everything I’d never had from anyone other than my sister. But I can’t have him. Not now I know he’s a cop. Once Giuseppe or Lucio find out what he is, we’ll both be as good as dead.
“Alison.” His voice drifts me back into reality.
“What do you want from me?” I ask hunching over. My stomach is doing flips.
He pauses in his reach for the file between us and answers, “I want to help you.” I don’t have a chance to respond before he continues on, his tone professional. “You’re here because of your relationship with the Marino’s. You’re Lucio Marino’s girlfriend, correct?”
I shudder and a horrible taste sits in my mouth just enlightening the thought of such a thing.
“No. I am not his girlfriend,” I spit back, gritting my teeth so tight it actually hurts.
Roamyn sighs and clasps his fingers together in front of him, frustration growing fast. “Look. This will be a lot easier if you tell us the truth and tell me what you know. If you help us, Alison, we can help you.”
Anger bubbles inside of me at his words and I stand, pushing the seat back behind me. “You think I need your so-called help? Well, I don’t. I won’t tell you anything, just like I’ve never said anything to the other detectives all the previous times they questioned me. So let me go. I know you can’t keep me here without anything on me.”
I know the rules, this isn’t my first rodeo. And the more he spoke without care, the more my heart shattered. My breathing quickens. My hands ball into fists at my side.
He gestures toward the door. “You’re free to go. But if you don’t help yourself while you still can it might get to a point where I can’t do anything.”
The sincerity in his eyes, tells me he’s giving me the truth. To whoever is listening it would seem standard procedure, every word spoken. But to us, it’s so much more. There must be a lot I don’t know but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want his help. I know what happens to a rat, and while I don’t care if I carry the title, there’s no offer the police could give to convince me to risk another two months or longer of torture. I’m not strong enough to pull through that again.
I shift my handbag over my shoulder and move toward the door. Reaching for the handle, his voice stops me in my tracks.
“One of the girls from Sweet Tarts was murdered last night.” He drops a photo on the table and I glance back at it. I turn away when I recognize Silver’s vibrant red hair framing her lifeless face.
Roamyn points to the photo of Silver dead on a gurney. Make-up free, dark rings around her eyes. Her face, pale. She looks so much younger. “She was only seventeen. Her name was Ashley Parks and her parents are still looking for her. She went missing three years ago here in the city while she and her family were on vacation. Now we have to go tell her parents we found their missing daughter dead on the sidewalk, after being shot to death and enduring years of God knows what at the hands of a psychopath. So tell me, Alison, you want to be next? You want to end up with a few bullets in your chest, left to die on the street?”
My shoulders hunch over, his harsh tone hitting the spot I’m sure he intended on. “You don’t understand.”
“Let me try.” Roamyn stands and walks toward me hand out but I pull back. If he touches me I’ll back down and I can’t. I just can’t do it. But I can give him the truth about Silver. About us all.
“To me, she was Silver. She never drank a drop of alcohol and never touched drugs. Her favorite color was red and she cared about the girls at the club even though she didn’t care much about herself.” I reach for the door handle and add, “Their daughter was gone, Roamyn. She wasn’t Ashley. She was Silver and she’d been her for a long time. They should be glad she’s gone. At least now she can rest in peace.”
With nothing else to say I shut the door, not waiting for a response