Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
The agent’s mouth thins as he leans back. “So you what? Decided to handle this psychopath on your own when he did show up? Do you really expect us to believe that?”
My face burns at the derision in his voice. “In hindsight, it wasn’t the best decision, but at the time, I didn’t see a lot of options. He said he’d come after me no matter where you hid me, implying that more people could get hurt that way—and I believed him. I didn’t know what to do, so I went along with what he wanted, taking it one day at a time until I could figure out a better solution.”
“Oh, really? And what was it that he wanted?”
I meet Ryson’s accusing stare with one of my own. “What do you think?”
He’s the first to blink and look away. Sighing heavily, he rubs his forehead in a weary gesture, and for a moment, I almost feel bad for him. If he accepts that I’m innocent, he’ll also have to accept that he failed at his job—that he allowed a monster to invade my life and snatch me away right under their noses. It would be so much easier if I were the villain in this story, if they could somehow prove that I plotted against them all along. Except the facts don’t really support it, and they know it.
I’ve been here for over an hour, and for all their threats and posturing, they still haven’t charged me.
A knock on the door is followed by a female agent poking her blond head in. “Agent Ryson? We need you for a sec.”
He follows her out, leaving me alone in the small interrogation room, and I slump in my uncomfortable metal chair, exhausted. Then I recall that I’m likely being watched and sit up straight, trying to avoid looking at my pinched, pale face in the big mirror on the wall. I’m so stressed I’m on the verge of breaking, but I don’t want them to know that. The interrogation, combined with the inevitable effects of jet lag and my worry about Mom, has taken everything out of me, and if I could, I’d collapse and sleep for the next eighteen hours. Unfortunately, I have to stay sharp and alert.
I have to convince them of my innocence, so I can be there for my parents.
After the SWAT team stormed the hospital and dragged me out, I decided my best bet is to answer the agents’ questions as truthfully as I can, omitting only what I’m certain I can get away with. Peter didn’t give me any instructions in this regard, so he must expect me to reveal everything and is already taking steps to mitigate the fallout—moving the team to a different safe house and so on. As for the Kents, I’m pretty sure they’re untouchable with all their wealth and connections, but I’m still playing it safe by not mentioning their names—there is no reason for the Feds to assume such details would be shared with me, a prisoner.
The main thing I intend to conceal, though, is the current state of my relationship with Peter—and that he’ll come back for me soon.
“Any news about my mom?” I ask Agent Ryson when he returns to the room a few minutes later, and he nods, taking a seat across from me again.
“The surgery went well,” he says, and a giant knot of tension unravels between my shoulder blades. “They found the source of the hemorrhage and fixed it,” he continues. “It’s still too soon to pronounce her stable, but it’s looking more encouraging.”
Despite my determination to remain stoic, I have to blink rapidly to contain an influx of tears. “Thank you.” My voice is thick with barely contained emotion. “I appreciate this.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Of course,” he says gruffly. “We’re not monsters here, you know. Which brings us to my next question, Dr. Cobakis.” He folds his arms across his chest and fixes a hard stare on me again. “If what you’re saying is true—if Sokolov stalked, threatened, and kidnapped you; if he kept you captive all these months—why would he bring you back now?”
I push all thoughts of Mom aside and focus on getting through this interrogation. The sooner I answer Ryson’s questions, the sooner I can see her.
“Sokolov got bored with me,” I say without blinking, having mentally practiced the lie on the drive over. “He tried to get me to warm up to him, allowing phone calls with my family and treating me fairly well in general, but I kept rebuffing his advances, and he finally got fed up. I suspect he might’ve found another unfortunate woman to fixate on, but that’s purely speculation on my part.”
“Right.” The agent’s tone drips with sarcasm. “He got ‘bored’ with you just when your parents needed you most.”