Chapter Eighteen
The now very grumpy guard remained in reception, logging in the many weapons for the few hours we’d be here.
‘Inspector Wise!’ an excited voice called.
I turned to see a young prison guard coming towards me. His uniform looked like it had been pressed fresh only hours ago, and the bounce in his step suggested he was newly on shift. Or perhaps he was just new, full stop.
‘Such an honour to meet you, ma’am! I could hardly believe it when they said our most prolific Inspector was coming here. Such a joy. Such an honour.’ He held a hand to his heart and bowed so low he almost tipped off his feet.
‘And you are, Officer…’
‘Pritchard, Sam Pritchard.’
‘You related to the warden?’ Robbie grunted.
Officer Pritchard’s cheeks reddened. ‘I’m his son.’
Ah, a nepo baby. Just what a prison needed. ‘Nice to meet you, Pritchard,’ I said briskly. ‘We’re here to see a prisoner, Vance Broadlake.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m aware. Prisoner number 3871 is in interview one, awaiting you.’
My stomach clenched but I nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ For the first time, he looked at the ogres and Bastion. ‘Oh. You can’t all come in. Inspector Wise is allowed because, you know, of the badge? But she’s coming in alone. You’ll have to wait here.’
Robbie shifted, and it felt like the whole room was filled with his power. ‘You will let me in with her, or I will rip you in two and find a guard who will let me in. I do not care who you are related to.’
Pritchard blanched. ‘Uh.’
‘This is fun,’ Bastion said. ‘I’m glad I came.’
Ignoring Bastion, I said, ‘Krieg is with me.’
‘Right, okay.’ He chewed on his bottom lip. ‘It’s against regulations to let someone else who’s not from the Connection in, but Dad said … I know, I’ll … I’ll turn the camera off. No evidence then.’ He paused, turning to me in consternation. ‘Do you need evidence, sir?’
‘Not for this,’ I said. ‘Go ahead and ensure it doesn’t record.’
‘Right. I’ll see you to the room, and then I’ll go turn it off. This way.’ He led Robbie and me to a metal door marked ‘Interview Room One’. He unlocked it and opened the door an inch. ‘Give me one minute to get to the recording room before you enter.’
He scurried off.
I wanted to complain about how easy it had been to make him flout the rules, but in this case, I shoved the urge down.
‘You wouldn’t really have ripped him in two, would you?’ I asked, eyeing my fiancé.
He smiled and didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
‘Could you though?’ I persisted. ‘With your bare hands?’
‘You’ve seen my muscles, Inspector. What do you think?’
I reckoned he could tear Pritchard in half like a magician pulling off a cheap trick.
‘Sometimes, my love, you’re a scary man.’
He shrugged. ‘He made the right choice. Rarely do I have to follow through with my threats.’
‘Rarely,’ I huffed. That was little consolation.
Out of an abundance of caution, we gave Pritchard a full two minutes.
‘Ready?’ Robbie murmured, his hand soft on my back.
I nodded, but I really fucking wasn’t. I braced myself as best I could and pasted on the most neutral expression I could manage.
Robbie made a sharp clicking sound with his mouth, and Ivan and Maktel flanked us at the door.
They might not be coming in for questioning, but they were ready to storm in should shit hit the fan.
Bastion and Hanlon lounged in the waiting room chairs, but despite their languid body language, I didn’t doubt for one second they were just as ready as Ivan and Maktel.
I took a deep, steadying breath and opened the metal door wide. It took an almighty strength of will to force myself to walk through the doorway.
Vance Broadlake sat at a metal table, secured by chains looped through its centre.
He looked older, wearier, and with longer hair and a beard, but I’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They’d haunted my nightmares for a decade and a half.
Cold, hard terror washed through me, freezing me for a beat.
He looked up at me. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he shoved back from the table into the chair. If not for his cuffed wrists being secured to the table, he would have toppled backward. As it was, all of his weight strained on his wrists as he looked at me with pure, undisguised horror.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whimpered. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
It wasn’t me. It was my hands, but it wasn’t me.
’ He was almost hysterical. Then his eyes flicked to the hulking ogre next to me, and his shoulders dropped.
His voice became eerily calm. ‘You’ve come to kill me, and I don’t blame you.
It’ll be a welcome relief, truth be told.
I thought your father was going to kill me – he said he was going to – but he didn’t.
I told him the truth, told him all of it, and I thought he believed me, but he didn’t come back like he promised.
Didn’t come back. Left me here to rot. I don’t blame him. I might not have believed me either.’
The words spewed from him, voice hoarse – from screaming or disuse, I wasn’t sure.
He didn’t sound the same. Somehow that helped.
Back then, his voice had been a smooth drawl that I could still hear, but now, he didn’t sound like my nightmares.
It was enough to unstick my feet from the floor.
I walked to the sole seat positioned opposite him.
Loki’s claws dug into my shoulder, and that helped too.
I sat.
Robbie stood behind me, a sentinel. A threat. Then he began to hum, the sound soft and barely audible.
He was piping Broadlake, but was he making him talk or making him tell the truth? Questions for when we were alone.
Broadlake swallowed hard. ‘An ogre like you could kill me with his bare hands.’ His tongue flicked out to lick dry lips.
‘Not just that, he could tear you in two with his bare hands,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘But he won’t. Not today, anyway. I am Inspector Wise of the Connection.’
The creases around his eyes softened. ‘You followed in your father’s footsteps, Stacy. He must be very proud of you.’
‘He’s dead,’ I said. ‘I presume that’s why he never returned to meet with you again. I need you to tell me everything you told him.’
‘Dead?’ His mouth hung open in shock. ‘Maybe he did believe me after all. All this time … I thought … but perhaps … when did he die?’
‘Three years after you kidnapped me,’ I said brittlely. ‘I was seventeen when he died.’
Broadlake rocked back and forth in the chair. ‘It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me. My hands but not me, my hands but not me, my—’
‘We get it,’ I snapped. ‘If not you, then who?’
He looked at me. ‘You won’t believe me. No one believes me.
’ He laughed – a hard noise with no humour in it.
‘That’s why old Vancey is here.’ He looked at me.
‘I did plenty of bad things,’ he admitted.
‘I stole, I fought, I lied. But I would never hurt no kid. Never hurt a girl. No, I would never do that.’ His horror was so visceral that I trusted he believed his muttered ravings.
I’d dealt with raving criminals plenty of times, and oddly, that settled me a bit more. He was a prisoner, a criminal, and I knew them well.
‘I’m not interested in your history of petty thievery. If you didn’t hurt me, who did?’
He wrung his hands. ‘I was just a passenger. I could see but I couldn’t do. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t act. It was horrible.’ His eyes pleaded with me to believe. ‘I could never hurt anyone like that. It was him.’
‘Give me a name,’ I pressed.
‘A doppelganger. A doppelganger called Jude Jingo.’
Ice filled my lungs, and I froze.
My brain stuttered, refusing to accept what my ears had heard.
Jude Jingo.
All this time, I knew he was a monster. I just hadn’t known he was my monster.