Fuck, my hands tremble and I can’t even look him in the eyes.
“A man’s voice said something and then the line went out. I was close, but not close enough. The first thing I did was call in the disturbance.”
Lie. The first thing I did was message Marcus. They have my phone. They’ll have the number. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
He got there first and left a fucking mess for me to walk in on with cops trailing behind me.
“And when you got there, the suspects were exactly as they were when we found them?”
I can only nod. Nothing else is able to come out.
“It’s one hell of a coincidence …” Skov states, taking the seat across from me, leaning back casually.
“I’m aware,” I say.
“You know we have to go through it all. Everything that was on you, your office, your records.”
The filing cabinet flashes in front of my eyes. I nod then tell him, “I understand, but put men out there. Don’t waste time.” I plead with him instead of giving any thought to what’s inside that filing cabinet in my office.
Please, for the love of God, don’t look in the cabinet. It’s locked. There’s no reason to. Not unless they wanted to pin this on me. Not unless they tie the phone number I messaged to any other crimes.
Fuck, fuck. Doubt surrounds me and it’s then that the interrogation door opens.
The other officer who took me in, I forget his name, strides in with heavy footsteps. His thin lips are pressed in a tight line and he flashes me a narrowed, untrusting gaze.
“I’m only going to ask you this once, and I expect full disclosure and honesty.” The severity in his tone sends a prick of warning down my spine. “You only have one chance to keep your job, Special Agent Walsh. If there’s even a possibility of that. How is the wanted criminal who goes by Marcus involved in all this? I want to know everything you know about him.”
And I Love You the Most
To my readers who wonder,
“What happened to you that you write like this?”
I found others like me, and that was enough.
“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.” ―Philip K. Dick
Prologue
Run. Just run.
The trees over the fence are brutal as their bark scratches down my right forearm. Branches whip at my face and I nearly impale myself on the spiked iron rail at the top of the fence before releasing it and dropping down. The hot blood smeared across my skin is more than enough evidence that damage has been done, but I don’t even flinch. Dried leaves lash out at me as I scramble through the brush, the twigs littering the ground crunching beneath my feet as I fall.
Oof. Biting down on my lip I silence the cry that threatens to be ripped from me on impact. With a racing heart and tears pricking at my eyes, I force myself to move. I can’t look back and I can’t stop.
Everything’s on fire, every weak muscle inside of me screaming with agonizing pain. I imagine this is what it’s like to die, and that very thought keeps me moving.
Run. Just run.
The cries from the new boy are still vivid in my mind. It was only moments ago and I swear they still echo in my ears. His shrill scream rings clearly in my head, tainted by my heavy breathing as I draw in a lungful of air that’s far too cold.
He won’t last. They’ll be back.
He should have run like me. The thought stays trapped at the back of my clogged throat as my bare feet almost slip on the damp grass before crossing onto the hard mud along the brick wall of some apartment building. I unlocked it. I tried to grab him but he only cried, whimpering on the floor and refusing to move.
My heart races as I glance one way and then the other.
For the first time since I swung the shovel, I stop. I stop for only a second, and his cries mix with another small boy’s wail.
Marcus. The burn of tears is unmistakable now as they streak down my face. His voice haunts me still. The way he cried but tried not to … I’ll never forget it. I may be a child, but if I live through this, I know I’ll never forget. Some memories are stained into who you are. The core of your soul is forever changed as a