Page 67 of The Italian Reckoning
“They said,Sarah, you spent six days with him. You know what he looks like so we can finally catch this guy. And youknow what I said?” Fat tears spill down her cheeks as her entire body trembles. “I can’tremember.”
I can’t hold back any longer. The second Sarah sobs, I throw myself forward and gather her into my arms as tightly as I can. She briefly resists and then sags into my hold, weeping against my shoulder and repeating those words over and over.
“I can’t remember!”
“My God, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“No,” she gasps, lifting her head. “Don’t. Because I’m the reason he’s still out there, walking around and killing. I’m the reason he’s not behind bars. Because I can’t remember what he looks like. I spent six days with him and his face is just an empty hole in my mind!”
“You can’t blame yourself for that, Sarah. You were kidnapped and tortured by a maniac fordays. He killed you, for fuck’s sake. I can’t even… The trauma from that alone is unimaginable.”
She laughs wetly against my shoulder. “I spenteighteen monthsin therapy trying to unbury everything about those six days. I tried sleep therapy, hypnosis, even regression therapy to get even the tiniest detail, but I—I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it!”
I don’t have the right words. Nothing in my mind sounds even remotely good enough to comfort her or reassure her that the guilt she carries is misplaced. With everything she went through, it’s painfully understandable why her mind would block out details of her killer.
Herkiller.
She died at the hands of that fucker.
No wonder he’s so fucking obsessed with her. She’s the one that got away.
“Sarah, listen to me.”
She slowly lifts her head, and I cup her damp cheeks with both hands.
“I can’t fathom what you went through. The pain and the trauma are beyond anything I can even comprehend and I am so fucking sorry that you suffered. But you are not to blame. All that talk you gave me about how he’s still out there, killing because of a mistake you made? Sarah, you are hisvictim. The very fact that you’re alive is some kind of miracle, but you are not to blame for him, do you understand?”
“If I remembered his face,” Sarah whispers up at me, “Belle would be alive. Kara would be alive.”
“Maybe,” I say tightly. “But we don’t know that. Everyone else who has worked this case, who has seen him in the street or been one of the eye witnesses to the earlier kidnappings, could have provided more about his face. CCTV or even better police work could have done that. If they had arrived earlier or fucking done their jobs properly, then you wouldn’t have—” My throat closes briefly. “You don’t deserve to carry this guilt. You are a victim, not a culprit. This survivor's guilt is not yours to carry.”
“But if Iremembered…” Her eyes close, and I cradle her head to my chest as her soft sobs grow into something deeper and much more painful.
Six years of agony pour out of her, and I hold her as tightly as I dare. I can’t imagine the trauma she went through, only to wake up and be met with the crushing expectation to remember the face of her torturer. Someone who traumatized her so badly that she blocked their face from her mind—to then carry that for years under the weight of this guilt.
I misjudged Sarah from the start.
Her fingers curl into my shirt, her head buries against my chest, and she clings to me as she weeps. The notes of pain and grief in every broken sound that escapes her are like knives to my heart. I want to reach inside her and scoop out her agony with my own hands, replace it with whatever I can give her that will make her feel better.
But nothing will.
Not while this asshole taunts her from the safety of knowing she can’t remember. He followed her here to toy with her.
I’m going to kill him.
I don’t know how, but this is no longer about getting revenge for Gio. I’m going to tear the city apart looking for this fucker and I will burn down every last building if I have to.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently, my lips pressed to the top of her head. “Tying you up in the casino must have been terrifying so I am so, so fucking sorry for that. If I’d known, I never would have?—”
“You couldn’t have known,” Sarah croaks. “No one knows, not really. Outside of my squad.”
“Still. I’m sorry I did that to you.” When she lifts her head from my shoulder, I cup her wet cheek and gently stroke away some of her tears. “But I promise you, Sarah. I’m here. Nothing else is going to happen to you, do you hear me? I will protect you. And we will catch him. I swear it. You are safe with me.”
Her eyes dart slowly back and forth between my own, shining like two glittering gemstones. I caress her cheek once more and swipe away a few more tears.
“I swear it, Sarah. I will protect you.”
“I know,” she murmurs, gazing up at me and sniffling. “I know.”
