39. Thirty-Eight

The laptop fan hummed, the only sound in the hushed lecture hall as I clicked to the final slide. “In conclusion, the Kinsey Scale and its implication that sexual orientation exists on a spectrum rather than a strict binary was groundbreaking for its time. Kinsey's research helped pave the way for a more nuanced understanding of human sexuality that we continue to build upon today.”

I glanced at my watch, the smooth leather band sliding against my wrist. Perfect timing, as always. I looked forward to leaving the florescent lights and shuffling feet of academia behind for the day and going home to Eli, who’d beat me home by about an hour, and that was if traffic was on my side.

“Thank you for your attention today,” I said, raising my head to make eye contact with a sea of glazed expressions. “I'll see you all next week. Remember, your essays on the psychosexual stages of development are due on Friday. No exceptions.”

A few groans met my reminder. There would, no doubt, be requests for extensions in my email by the end of the day.

The class began to disperse, chairs screeching against cheap linoleum, a crescendo of zippers and chatter. I turned off the projector and began gathering my lecture notes, sliding them into a dark leather messenger bag.

As I shut my laptop and slid it into my bag, the lecture hall doors swung open with a bang. I looked up, startled, to see three police officers striding down the aisle toward me, their heavy boots thudding against the stairs. The few dawdling students scurried out of their way.

I stood up straighter, fixing the lead officer with an unimpressed stare.

“Dr. Laskin?” His voice was gruff, but he had a cocky air about him I didn’t care for.

“Yes, what can I do for you, officers?” I asked casually.

“We need you to come with us down to the station. We have some questions for you.”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “May I ask what this is regarding? I have a busy schedule.”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” the officer replied flatly.

I narrowed my eyes at the officer, assessing him coolly. His uniform fit too snugly across his broad chest, as if he spent more time lifting weights than upholding the law. I had little patience for men who relied on bravado over intellect.

“I see,” I replied, my tone clipped. “Well then, let's not waste any more time, shall we?”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out from behind the podium. The officers flanked me as we exited the lecture hall, drawing curious stares from the few students still lingering in the hallway. I kept my head high, refusing to give them any reason to doubt my composure.

As we stepped out into the chilly fall air, a sinking feeling settled in my gut. I had no doubts that this was related to the Children of the Light somehow. Whether I was to be treated as a suspect or a witness remained to be seen.

The drive to the station was tense and silent. I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets of Columbus blur past between exchanging texts with Eli, letting him know I’d be back late. I didn’t want him to worry, so I told him I needed to hold emergency office hours. Depending on how this interrogation went, I’d hopefully have more to tell him afterwards.

The precinct was a hive of activity as I was led through the bustling bullpen, phones ringing shrilly and officers striding past with purposeful steps. The air smelled of stale coffee, sweat, and ink. I kept my face impassive, betraying none of the unease churning in my stomach as we reached a nondescript door near the back of the building.

The lead officer opened it, revealing a small, sterile room. A metal table was bolted to the floor in the center, flanked by two chairs. The walls were a dull gray, the fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving. A large mirror on the wall opposite the door was obviously two-way glass. I had no doubt that this room had born witness to countless confessions and breakdowns. I had no intention of adding to that number.

“Have a seat, Dr. Laskin,” the officer said gruffly, gesturing to one of the chairs.

I stepped inside, the door closing with a heavy clang behind me. The sound echoed in the bare room, ratcheting up the tension. I settled into the cold metal chair and placed my bag on the floor beside me before folding my hands on the table, projecting an air of calm I did not feel.

I was acutely aware of the camera mounted in the corner, its unblinking eye recording my every micro-expression. I knew that every twitch, every blink, every breath would be scrutinized for signs I was lying or withholding information, so I stared it down.

The door swung open and Agent Ashley Valentine limped into the room. He favored his left side as he made his way to the table, leaning heavily on a cane with each halting step. His once youthful face was now lined and weathered, his hair more silver than black. But his eyes, those keen gray eyes, were as sharp and penetrating as ever as they locked onto me.

Valentine eased himself into the chair across from me with a barely suppressed grunt of pain, his knee no doubt protesting the movement. He set his cane against the edge of the table with a metallic clank that echoed in the sparse room.

“Agent Valentine,” I greeted him coolly, arching a brow. “What happened to your leg?”

A muscle in Valentine's jaw ticked as he glared at me, a mixture of anger and frustration simmering in his gaze. “You know damn well what happened, Laskin,” he growled, his gravelly voice dripping with accusation.

I kept my expression carefully neutral, refusing to rise to his bait. “I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.”

Valentine leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table, the fluorescent light casting harsh shadows across his face. “You were there that night, at the cult's campground. When the FBI raided the place. I saw you.”

I met his steely gaze unflinchingly. “That's quite an accusation, Agent Valentine. Do you have any proof?”

His jaw clenched. “If I did, you’d already be behind bars, Laskin. Lucky for you, my superiors aren’t that interested in you. All they care about is closing up this case with a neat little bow.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then why am I here, Agent Valentine? If your superiors aren't interested in me, what's the point of this little interrogation?”

Valentine's eyes narrowed. “Because I know you know more than you’re saying. Why were you there, Dr. Laskin? Help me figure out what happened that night.”

I held Valentine's piercing gaze, my expression a mask of practiced indifference. “I'm afraid I can't help you, Agent Valentine. As I've said, I wasn't there that night. I don't know anything about what happened at the cult's campground.”

Valentine's fist slammed against the table. “Bullshit! We both know that's a lie, Laskin. I saw you there with my own damn eyes.”

“You're mistaken, Agent Valentine,” I said calmly. “I was home that night, grading papers.”

Valentine scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. “Right. Maybe I’ll bring Elias Baker in to corroborate that. See what he has to say about that night.”

My hands clenched into fists beneath the table. “Leave Eli out of this,” I bit out, a warning clear in my tone.

“Then give me something, Laskin. Anything.”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping harshly against the concrete floor. “If you're not going to arrest me, Agent Valentine, then this interview is over. I have nothing more to say to you.” I grabbed my leather bag and strode toward the door with purposeful steps.

“Sit down, Laskin,” Valentine barked, his voice sharp as a whip crack. “We're not done here.”

I paused, my hand on the cool metal doorknob, and glanced back at him over my shoulder. “I believe we are. Unless you have some actual evidence to hold me on, I'm leaving.”

“We've confirmed that your sister Daniella was spotted in Malaysia. With Ezekiel.”

The breath left my lungs in a sharp exhale, as if Valentine had physically struck me. I turned to face him, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag until my knuckles whitened. “What did you just say?”

Valentine leaned back in his chair, a glint of satisfaction in his gray eyes. “You heard me. Seems like your little stunt at the campground didn't quite pan out the way you'd hoped. Instead of rescuing your sister, all you managed to do was aid in their escape.”

I swallowed hard, a muscle in my jaw ticking as I fought to maintain my composure. I had hoped that the FBI had her in holding somewhere, that perhaps there would be a trial and an opportunity for her to make a deal and walk away. But if she’d left the country, there would be no deals. I wasn’t even sure I could mount a rescue now.

I slowly lowered myself back into the chair, my mind racing. This changed everything. If Ezekiel had managed to smuggle Daniella out of the country, then my options were severely limited. The FBI's reach only extended so far, and Malaysia was well beyond their jurisdiction.

I met Valentine's gaze, schooling my features into a mask of indifference even as my heart pounded against my ribs. “I fail to see how my sister's whereabouts have any bearing on me, Agent Valentine. We haven't spoken in years.”

Valentine scoffed. “Come on, Laskin. We both know that's bullshit. You expect me to believe it's a coincidence that your sister disappeared right after the raid on the compound? The same raid where I saw you skulking around?”

“You think I helped them escape?” I scoffed and leaned forward, bracing myself on the table. “Unless you have some actual evidence connecting me to any of this, I suggest you stop wasting my time.”

Valentine's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with barely contained frustration. He knew I was right. Without hard proof, he had nothing to hold me on.

“This isn't over, Laskin,” he growled, pushing himself to his feet with a wince, his bad leg clearly paining him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

I pushed through the precinct doors, the cool fall air hitting my face like a slap after the stifling interrogation room. I strode down the steps, my leather shoes clicking against the concrete, and turned the corner into a narrow alley. Away from prying eyes, I leaned heavily against the rough brick wall, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as I dragged in a shuddering breath.

My hands shook as I raked my fingers through my hair, Valentine's words echoing in my mind like a mocking refrain. Daniella had been spotted in Malaysia. With Ezekiel. The news settled like a leaden weight in my gut, dread and despair warring for dominance.

I had failed her. Again. And now, because of my own reckless actions, she was even further from my reach, smuggled out of the country by that manipulative bastard.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as a helpless rage surged through me. I had been so close. Had she been there that night I went for Eli? Had I missed her by minutes? Hours? Days? In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was she was out of my reach now. The only way I was getting to Dani would be with outside help.

I pushed off the wall, my jaw clenched with determination, and strode out of the alley with purposeful steps. The late afternoon sun slanted across the sidewalk, casting long shadows as I wove through the bustling pedestrians, my mind churning with the implications of Valentine's revelation.

I couldn't trust the FBI. That much was clear. Valentine might have been telling the truth about Daniella's location, but I had no doubt he'd use any information I gave him to further his own agenda. No, if I was going to find Dani, I'd have to do it on my own. Well, not entirely on my own.

I slipped my hand into my pocket, my fingers curling around the sleek metal of my phone. For a moment, I considered calling Algerone. If anyone could find Dani and get her out, it would be him. But as quickly as the thought came, I dismissed it.

Algerone was a wild card, his motives as murky and shifting as smoke. He might help me find Dani, but the price he'd demand in return could be steep. Too steep. I couldn’t trade a brother for a sister, no matter how distant Xion was. Family was family, and Xion was no less my brother than Dani was my sister, blood be damned.

No, Algerone was out. But that didn't mean I was out of options.

Xavier. My brother was my best shot at finding Dani now. His hacking skills were unparalleled, honed through years of skirting the edges of the dark web. If anyone could track Ezekiel and Dani's digital trail, it would be him.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Xavier's number from memory. It rang once, twice, my brother answered. “What can I do for you, Shepherd?”

I gritted my teeth. “Xavier, I need a favor. And you can’t tell anyone.”