27. Theron

27

THERON

brOKEN MAN - ST. VINCENT

"Well, Adler? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Officer Brewster rests his folded arms on his pot belly that he's grown after years of a diet of beer and chicken wings. He sits opposite me in the sparsely lit dungeon the Castlebury Police Department call an interrogation room.

I'm not in handcuffs. I'm not even technically under arrest.

Once the police pulled up on me late at night in the pouring rain, they informed me they had received an anonymous tip. Someone claimed to have seen me fighting with Samson Wicker and then spotted me hauling a large piece of luggage to my car moments later.

This so-called anonymous tipster told the police I was driving deep into the forest.

Brewster and his colleagues damn near blinded me shining their flashlights in my face, sweeping it up and down my soaked, mucked up clothes. They hovered on the muddy shovel in my grasp and then asked me what I was doing out in the middle of nowhere.

"Why don't you come with us?" asked the officer with a thick mustache that was silver in the moonlight. "Make things easier on yourself."

I had cooperated, but not without one last glance at the wall of pine trees nearby. My eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness. They sought out the different shapes, looking for her.

Nyssa.

She'd shown up seemingly out of nowhere only to disappear just as seamlessly.

What in the hell did she think she was doing? How had she followed me? Did she really believe I was some murderous psycho? I'm Valentine?!

You did just kill a man in cold blood.

Again.

Her ex-boyfriend…

I grit my teeth at the dark, raspy inner voice that contradicts me. I might have let myself get a little carried away… but it was justified.

I was protecting Nyssa. I was fucking protecting Peaches . Would she rather I let the oaf harm her precious ginger girl?

As I peered into the darkness and realized Nyssa was far out of sight, I conceded the moment. It was a small victory in what's a longer war. I could have pressed the matter, insisted the police search the area, but I let her have the win.

For now.

It was in my best interest to simply acquiesce their request. At their suggestion, I accompanied them to the local police station.

Sitting in the interrogation room, my boots still have dried mud on the steel toes. My hair hangs around my face, disheveled and dripping wet. Dirt cakes my fingernails from spending so long digging a grave.

"Well?" Brewster prompts when I've said nothing.

"Well what?" I spit.

"Why don't you tell me about your evening?"

"Which part, Officer?" I ask in a tone that strikes a balance between calm and condescension. "Would you like to know what I had for dinner? I confess I'm not much of a chef, but I seared a wonderful ribeye with a garlic-rosemary-infused butter that turned out better than most steakhouses. Very nice and juicy. It was delicious. I paired it with crisp asparagus and?—"

"Damn it, Adler. Stop being a smartass and tell me what the fuck you were doing in the middle of the woods! Why did some anonymous asshole think you were up to no good?"

"I'm afraid I'm not qualified to assess why an unknown source would tell you I was, what did you say, up to no good? Being that I am neither a psychologist nor a mind reader, perhaps it's best you go to the source and ask them about their delusion."

"Keep sassing. That won't help you," he grunts, looking the part of a disgruntled bear in a chair far too small. "And the woods? Why the hell were you there?"

I cock my right brow, then click my tongue in admonishment. "Officer, you know better than to think I'd be so foolish as to answer that question. I'm not required to tell you about my whereabouts without probable cause."

"Who's to say we don't got it?" he asks. "You're here for questioning. We made that clear. You think Daly and Tran stayed behind for shits and giggles? They were going to search the area. Check out the anonymous tipster's claims you were doing something in that forest. If you were smart, you'd have already requested a lawyer."

I smirk darkly at him. "No need. I'm already here. "

He bares gritted, coffee-stained teeth at me. "You think you're so smart, eh? You better hope we don't find anything on you. Then you'll be sorry."

"Officer, that sounds like a threat. Are you harassing me?"

"I'm telling you you're in for a world of trouble if you're up to something! You got lucky the first time. We couldn't find anything solid, but we all knew it was you."

"I had nothing to hide then. I have nothing to hide now."

"Then mind explaining why Samson Wicker hasn't been seen in over twelve hours?"

"I don't know, but it's also not my responsibility to do your job for you. Why don't you figure that out for yourself?" I lean closer, pinning him with a hard, unblinking stare. "Now, if I'm not under arrest and you have no further questions, how about I see myself out?"

Officer Murphy Brewster glowers as I stride out the front doors of the Castlebury Police Station.

The time inches toward two a.m. The rain's hardly lightened up.

I slide behind the wheel of my BMW and flick on my headlights.

The truth is, I could be on borrowed time. If Brewster was serious that his colleagues Daly and Tran stayed behind to investigate the area, then they very well could come across the body I buried.

And the others.

But until then, I'm a free man.

A confused man. An enraged man. A man on the cusp of sinking into a deep, dark black hole I'd long ago promised myself I'd never return to again …

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" sobbed Josalyn, the distress in her voice. "Why can't you just accept my decision?"

"What decision, Josalyn?" I asked on a beat of desperation. I grabbed her by the elbow to whip her around and peer into her deep-set eyes. "Don't you see what I'm doing? Don't you get I'm trying to protect you? Even if it's from yourself? For your own good?"

She wrenched her arm free of me. "You have no idea what's good for me."

"You're still in love with him," I said, my voice dropping a decibel. My tone darkened. It turned deadly. "That's why you're doing this."

"You have no idea what you're talking about! It's over, Theron! Leave!"

Josalyn's voice still plays in my head. I blink out of my deep stupor, driving fast down a long, slick road with only my headlights to guide me.

My phone's ringing. I answer on speaker.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Theo screams. "This has got to be some elaborate joke of yours. Some April Fool's shit!"

I scowl at the Bluetooth screen on my dashboard. "If you're going to scream like a banshee, I will hang up on you."

"And I'll smack you upside the head for pulling what you are!"

"How about you tell me your grievance first, sister? That seems like a logical place to start, does it not?"

The anger only blooms in her voice. "You know exactly what my grievance is, Theron! Why were you arrested?!"

"I was not arrested."

"Emma works as a secretary at the station, numbnuts!" she screeches. "She's on night shift this week, which means she saw you come in! She said they had you in an interrogation room?—"

"I was asked to come in for questions. I was not arrested."

"You're spiraling again. You're losing it. You're out of control. I have to… Theron, we need to call Dad."

"Don't you call him!" I hiss at her. More heavy raindrops splash onto my windshield in answer, as if spurned by my temper.

"You're leaving me no choice. I refuse to stand by as this goes down."

"Nothing is going down. But you need to calm down. Right now."

"Where are you?"

"None of your business."

"I'm coming to get you. Tell me your address."

"You're annoying me. Goodbye, sister."

I hang up on her without further warning. When she tries to call back a few seconds later, I send her straight to voice mail.

You'd think I'd be smart and drive straight home. I'd take a hot shower, clear my head, and get some sleep.

All things I'm in desperate need of.

But I do none of these things.

Driving past the on-ramp that will take me to the suburb where I live, I drive deeper toward the heart of Castlebury.

I park several blocks down from the apartment building where Nyssa Oliver lives. The street's asleep. The building's dead. Everything's silent and still except for the monotonous pitter-patter from the downpour.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, Miss Oliver," I whisper under my breath .

The lock clacks as I let myself into her apartment, indifferent to the possibility she could be home. She could be gone.

It doesn't matter anymore.

I'm no longer a man driven by rationale and logic. I'm a man operating off dark impulses that would concern me in the light of day.

I stalk her shadowy apartment without bothering with any lights. My boots thud on the flooring, a heavy and threatening sound in the middle of the night.

Her bedroom's empty. Peaches dozes peacefully on her pillow. I sit down on the edge and reach out a hand to affectionately stroke along her spine. The little tabby shudders out a soft breath as she continues sleeping.

Nyssa Oliver has no idea what she's done by betraying me tonight. She has no idea what will be waiting for her when she returns home.

I rise up and wander the rest of her most private space. I pull open drawers and check shoeboxes in her closet. Books are overturned and old suitcases dug into.

Soon I lose myself in my frantic search for it.

The notebook I'd come across before where I'd seen a list of names written down. My own was on a separate page with lipstick smudges.

Little did I know then, the rest of the book detailed her great master plan.

A grunt of triumph leaves me as I check under her mattress and my fingers feel the paper-thin notebook pages.

I wrench the book out from under and then flick on her bedside lamp, poring over what she's neatly written inside.

Handwriting I've admired from the first day of class. Handwriting that looks more and more familiar as I read through each line…

Finally, the last page emerges with my name scribbled down and a myriad of bullet points that serve as evidence she's gathered. Reasons she's pieced together to figure out that I'm who she thinks I am.

Valentine.

I smirk as I'm doing the same for her. The epiphany hits me like a freight train collision, and suddenly I see Josalyn clear as day.

The truth has been right in front of me all along.

"Tsk, tsk, Miss Oliver… you put in the effort, but it's a failing mark. You might not understand who I am. But I know exactly who you are."