Page 95 of Vow of Vengeance
My brain isn't making sense. Why isn't everything linear? Why can't I remember everything?
Declan's hand grips my wrist again, and as he leans over me, careful not to put any weight on me, his cool gaze captures mine.
"You're okay. You're going to be as good as new soon," Declan promises. "It was just a few stitches... the wound wasn't that deep, but you bled a lot because..."
I blink at him, trying to figure out what he's talking about.
"Ren..." Marissa smiles, drawing my attention back to her. She's got her hand out for me to take, so I do, letting her fingers wrap around mine.
"I'm so sorry, but we really need to get a statement so we can close this investigation."
That voice I don't recognize again. Blinking, I turn toward the source and find a woman there, dressed in a tailored suit that looks far too suited to her body to be from the rack. Seeing she'sgot my attention, the woman smiles. "Miss Palmer, hi. I'm Agent Kate Lorraine. I'm glad you're awake."
"Agent?"
"FBI." She nods, the ghost of a grin flitting on her pink lips. "I've been building a case against your husband for years. Last year, when he died, we shifted the focus to Tony Bucci. Because of that, we were able to claim jurisdiction over the investigation of what happened last night."
My breath stalls in my throat, which feels suddenly tight.
Years.
I've been building a case against your husband for years.
It feels like a betrayal, and I don't even know this woman. She suspected him... of what? Of exactly what he did? Did she really let me live all that time with a murderer sleeping beside me? Or did she not realize the extent of it?
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she nods, "and I'll be happy to answer them for you once you recover a bit if you'd like. I don't want to get too deep into all of it here, but I do need a statement from you about what happened."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small little rectangle... a recorder?
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, and all I need is for you to answer them, okay?"
I turn to Declan, eyes wide with the sudden feeling that I'm somehow going to go down for my husband's crimes.
"Dec..." I gasp, shaking my head.
"You'll be just fine, Ren." He assures me, sweeping a strand of hair from my face and pressing a kiss to my cheekbone. His voice is lower when he speaks again, just a whisper. "Remember what I told you? You were right about me having the police in my pocket. Just tell the truth and it will be okay."
I blink as he pulls away, his face betraying no hint of what he just admitted to.
Sure, I accused him of having the police in his pocket. And he had confirmed as much when Marissa first went missing and he was able to get swift action out of the police chief. But this isn't the same thing... not at all. The Chicago PD isn't the same thing as the FBI. There's no way Declan has federal connections... does he?
But then I remember that Declan killed Tony and Vin... at least, I think he did. We didn't stick around to check that they were indeed dead, but I'm sure they didn't survive when we left them. Is this investigator here to put him away for that?
"Declan saved me." I explain quickly, turning back to the agent.
She nods. "There's no disputing that. If Mr. Evers hadn't intervened, you wouldn't be sitting here with us right now. I've already assured him, no prosecutor would take action against him for that... not with all of this falling under my jurisdiction. That's why I need to clarify a few things with you, so that we can lay this all to bed. Okay?"
Declan nods when I glance his way, so I follow suit. "Okay."
"Miss Palmer... when you were married to your husband, were you aware that he was creating what is commonly referred to as snuff films, which portray the violent, sexual torture and murder of innocent victims?"
Her tone is neutral; I can't tell if she's judging me for not knowing or if she's just checking. "No." I swallow back the sob that threatens to burst out, and Marissa squeezes my hand tighter. She must think I'm so stupid to have had no clue all that time.
"When did you first become aware of your husband's role in the sexual torture and murder of innocent women?"
I want to throw up, but it doesn't feel like there's even anything there. I already tossed my guts in the hotel room… whenever that was.
"A month ago?" I look to Declan to check the timeline. "We were in Costa Rica."
