Brutal Obsession: Chapter 57

“The cabin has been abandoned for almost thirty years,” the police detective says. He’s sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed, a pen poised over his notepad. “And you’re saying your captor never showed their face?”

I look away. I’ve been claiming memory loss due to the drugs, but it’s officially all out of my system. I’ve been in the hospital for two days, for no other reason than Grey is worried and demanded the best care for me.

But this detective, a guy named Samuel Beck, is persistent.

“We found a trapdoor in the kitchen,” he says. “And a hidden room where we found your clothes. A cuff and chain attached to the wall. There’s no doubt someone was holding you against your will, Ms. Reece. We just need you to give us a name.”

I open my mouth and close it. My chest constricts, and my heart rate on the monitor picks up speed. I catch the increasing numbers out of the corner of my eye as my body reacts to the panic.

I can’t tell him . Mia will kill Grey. I don’t doubt it.

It was too easy. Grey found me from my phone, which Mia had left on the porch like a freaking beacon.

Maybe she knew that help would be on the way and she didn’t want to be caught with me. Her warning rings in my ears, her voice loud and grating. If I tell anyone it was her, she’ll kill Greyson.

After Grey was let off the hook so easily, I find it hard to believe Mia will go to prison and stay there. Not if she has the right people on her side.

“Violet,” Beck tries, drawing my focus back to him. “We can protect you.”

Someone knocks on the door to my room, and the detective jumps to his feet.

“Give us a minute, Sam.” Senator Devereux steps inside. He shoots him a bland smile.

My stomach turns. Greyson had to go to class. School has resumed, spring break officially over. I’ve got a doctor’s note to miss another week, and the professors all sent messages that they’d help me catch up when I return.

So it’s just me.

The senator takes a look around the room and plucks a card off one of the flower arrangements. “From Shawn Meridian,” he reads. “He choreographs for ballet companies, no?”

I don’t answer.

He sighs and sets it aside, then stops next to my bed. “How are you feeling?”

“You care?” My brows furrow.

“I had a conversation with my son that has led me here,” he says. “Do I care ? About you? Not particularly. I don’t care about much except my own flesh and blood.”

I scoff.

He frowns. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with Greyson choosing you over his future.”

“Great. Then get out.” I point to the door.

“I could,” he allows, but he pulls a chair closer and takes a seat instead. “Or I could tell you why I bothered to show up in the first place. I’ve got a busy schedule, Ms. Reece. Doing charity work isn’t usually part of it.”

“Maybe you’d get more votes if you did charity work,” I retort. I sit up straighter. “But, sure. Call me curious.”

“I know that detective outside is pressing you for information you don’t want to give. And you’ve had no recollection, so you say, of who took you.” He raises an eyebrow. He’s so manicured, it’s almost comical. Gray hair, smooth face. His forehead doesn’t even crease with the expression, and his skin has that spray-tanned color. His teeth are so white.

Maybe all politicians look like that, and I’ve just never noticed.

“That’s what you know,” I say. “But what did Grey say?”

He smiles down at his shoes, then meets my gaze. “His mother used to call him that. She’d carry him around the house singing to him. He was her little raincloud. Always crying, always thunderous in his emotions. He lets you call him that?”

A lump forms in my throat. “He loved her a lot, you know.”

“Yes, of course he did. She was his mother.”

I swallow, ignoring the burn behind my eyes. I need to return that photo album to him. I’ve been holding back—and holding out—because I was worried he was just using me. But he found me, even after Mia took me. He left one of the most important games to come save me . I believe him when he says he loves me. It just took a little while…

“My son understands you.” He appraises me. “He says you’re afraid to name your abductor because of what they’ve threatened. Did they say they’d come back and kill you? Harm you? Perhaps your view of our justice system is tainted because of our history.”

I keep my eyes on my lap. “Maybe it wasn’t me who was threatened, Senator, but your son. If it was me, I could live with that. I would’ve given up a name by now. But him? Never.”

He leans forward, bracing his hands on the side of the bed. “Listen to me, Violet.”

I lift my gaze and meet his eyes.

“For this, I’m willing to make the system work in our favor. Do you understand?”

“She can’t be allowed to walk free.” A tear slips down my face, and I quickly brush it away. God, I hope he’s telling the truth.

“She?”

“Mia Germain,” I whisper. How easily I’m folding. I can only pray he has good intentions. That he cares about his son enough to put her away forever. His face remains blank, not recognizing the name. How funny, when she’s been such a big presence in my life. I add, “The artistic director of Crown Point Ballet. She’s been following me. She took me against my will and then she drugged me.”

He rises. “Thank you, Violet. I’ll take care of it.”

When he’s gone, I sag back against the pillows. And the tears flow for real.