“Something like that,” I say.
Because he raped and orchestrated the murder of my sister, and he thought he could find his redemption in me.
I start crying, which is good. I really don’t have the self-control to pull this off right now. My best bet is to go full collapse, sob so hard I can’t answer questions. I don’t want to answer any more questions. I don’t want anything.
I feel like a child. I just want to go home.
But home is Roman.
I’m so fucked.
Lawson sighs, shuffles the photos, and sets them aside. He pulls out a legal pad, clicks his pen open.
“We have evidence placing you at the scene.” I don’t know what evidence he means. I also don’t know if he’s lying. Would Roman set me up? Would he leave a trail leading to me?
A betrayal for a betrayal. A shot for a shot.
Lawson lets the silence thicken, see if I’ll fill it.
When I don’t, he continues. “We also have evidence pointing to the killer who’sassociatedwith you.”
The killerassociatedwith me. Manic laughter threatens to escape my lips. I clamp them shut, swallowing it.
Oh, we’re associated alright. He’s been associating himself inside me for a while now. And now he’s associated himself right out of my fucking life.
“You ever hear of the blue shield?” Lawson asks, leaning back.
My mind is too numb to play any more of this game. A part of me just wants to surrender, give up, and let them take me in. I did it. I did it all. Leave Roman alone and take me. Get me away from myself.
“What cop doesn’t?” I say, my hand drifting up to twist Serena’s earring. I force myself to put it back in my lap. No tells. Not now and not here.
Lawson cocks his head. “Are you hiding behind it now, Detective?”
I meet his gaze, gathering my strength. “I don’t hide, sir.”
He considers this, and his jaw moves side to side, like he’s grinding up the words before he spits them out. “Did you kill Captain Russo?”
The question isn’t a surprise. I keep my voice even. “No, sir. I did not.”
He’s waiting for a flicker, a flinch, a micro-expression to sell me out. I give him nothing. I have nothing to give.
Lawson’s pen resumes its tapping. “You understand the gravity of your situation?”
“Perfectly. Am I free to go?”
His eyes narrow but he nods, waiting until I’m standing before he speaks again.
“Internal Affairs will be in touch. Don’t leave the city.”
As if I had anywhere else to go.
The hallway smells like old coffee and cheap disinfectant. I instantly feel the eyes, dozens of them, tracking me from behind half-open doors. The gossip machine is already churning.
None of these people really liked or knew me, anyway.
I’ve always been on my fucking own. Even when I thought Russo was at my side but he wasn’t. He was waiting ahead of me, one foot out to trip me as soon as I gained too much momentum.
I hate him for being my friend when I needed one more than anything.
