Gavin appeared across the hall, leaning against the wall. My stomach churned again, and a great sadness followed. Where had he come from? He hadn’t been there a second ago.
Every bit the rock star and not a hair out of place, he certainly didn’t look as if he had just been arrested for unspeakable things. Gavin laughed with the same officers who’d carted him away from his home on Christmas Eve, at ease in the clothes he’d been wearing when they took him away in handcuffs.
Can you hear me? I tried speaking to him telepathically. He didn’t answer or even acknowledge that I’d spoken, so I opened my mouth to call to him.
Our eyes met, and my mouth clamped shut. I was suddenly at a loss for words. One of the officers began leading him down the hall. I wanted to run to him, but my legs were jerked back into place by what felt like shackles, though there weren’t any on me. I tried again, but could only move about a foot from where I stood before being yanked back into place.
“Gavin!” My voice echoed off the walls of the interrogation room and out into the hall, making me sound way more desperate than I’d intended.
Gavin lowered his head as if the sight was too much for him. Hot tears streamed down my face, stinging my skin.
“Please, Gavin, wait!”
He kept walking, as if he didn’t know me at all.
Officer Bladen reentered the room, closing the door behind her, as if a closed door could shield me from what was coming. Still, I heard them laughing and talking outside; it surprised me that I could hear them through the walls. Or was I just hearing voices again?
“You really make a lasting impression, huh, Vault?” One of the cops joked, followed by laughter from the others. By his tone, they seemed like they could have been old high school buddies.
Rage and humiliation got the best of me. I lunged forward, only to be pulled backward by the invisible shackles around my feet.
My landing wasn’t as graceful as I would have liked. Refusing help from a rather amused Officer Bladen, I stood, dusted off my knees, and took a seat.
***
We sat in silence, occasionally staring at one another, listening for anything at all. The only interruptions were Officer Bladen rubbing her arm at seemingly timed intervals and the dings of her cell phone. The fly was gone. He caught the flight out when Bladen opened the door. Smart fly. I found myself missing his flitting and buzzing.
A knock on the doorframe brought us both out of our bored trances. I think I was actually counting Officer Bladen’s arm hairs at the time.
“Ms. Miller,” intoned a cop who poked his head in from the hallway. Leaning in slightly and holding onto the doorframe as if the room were contaminated, he continued, “Your mother’s arrived and is right outside. I suspect you’ll want to start with your videotaped statement now.” He crooked a long index finger and motioned for Officer Bladen to follow him into the hall. And then she was gone, leaving only the lingering smell of perfume.
A voice came from somewhere on the other side of the two-way mirror. “Hi, honey. Go ahead with your statement. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
A red light on the video camera I hadn’t noticed until now above the mirror came on.
“Mom?” I stood, ready to leave with her.
“Sit down, Grace,” Mom’s voice ordered. “Just give your statement, and this will all be over with.”
“Mom … you’re not coming in?” My voice was small, almost mousey. The sound of the metal chair scraping the concrete floor echoed in my ears as I sank back down.
“No, honey, just please give them your statement so we can be done with this whole mess.” Mom had not come to get me at all.
Sergeant Mullane’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers. “Miss Miller, please. Look into the camera, state your name for the record, and start with your earliest recollections leading up to when we found you last night, how you met Mr. Vault, came to be on his property, anything he may have said about your brother, Remiel, or Jennifer Larson from as far back as you can remember. Just take your time, Grace. If you need a break, let me know.”
I squirmed, took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and spoke into the microphone. “Archangel Grace Ann Miller.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I