Chapter 1 #2
“I suppose maybe you could have thrown yourself off something…your bunk in the cell?”
“Why does it fucking matter?”
“It matters, Mr. Creed, if you tried to take your own life. That’s a true sign of a guilty conscience, of someone who is truly grieving and battling immense pain. That kind of information—you being vulnerable—is the kind of thing that might earn you some leniency. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the last I’ve sat with,” I explained.
“I’ve interviewed Rafe, Arden, and we even brought in those associated with Alexander Creed for questioning—and while none of you have said much to the authorities, you’ve all been…
self-destructive. You three, Creed, are harboring pain.
It’s as plain as day. Now my job is to get your profile, sure, but it’s also to make sure there aren’t still facts that need to be on the table.
If there is anything you all haven’t told us, now is the time. ”
He stared me down. “Rafe…” His voice broke. “Arden…They tried to hurt themselves too?”
“Too, Mr. Creed?”
Kane scowled. “Fine, okay? You win. I tried to kill myself. You happy? Now tell me if they’re okay.”
“Why did you try to commit suicide?”
“I murdered innocent people. My brother is dead.”
He said it so bluntly, his torment so unbelievably clear and stark that I had to pause.
I took a breath, steadying myself. “And those are related, aren’t they?
” I asked. “Rafe mentioned a Viktor Shaw. He said you all were repeatedly raped at an estate as children and that you were forced to kill for a network of Buyers.”
Kane ran a hand over his mouth. “He told you that?”
I nodded. “He only gave two confessions at the precinct, though—his years at that estate and Thorne dying. I think he thought that was all we needed, but the thing is: Viktor Shaw doesn’t exist, Kane.
At least not in any of our records. So I need more.
If you want us making sure no other kids get hurt like Creed, then you need to start talking. Now.”
He hesitated, concern overtaking his features. He suddenly looked his true age of only twenty-three. He was a kid, really. Adult by law but still so impressionable. They all were. “Are Arden and Rafe okay?” he asked, his throat bobbing.
“You seem to care about them a great deal.”
“Will you fucking answer me?”
I wet my lips and pulled free two pieces of paper from my file folder.
“Rafe,” I told him, showing a printed photo of Rafe Creed’s intake picture and subsequent charges, “spent most of his time in the infirmary in the beginning. We moved him three times before we realized he was only getting beaten to a pulp because he was instigating the fights. Now, he’s in solitary. ”
“Alone?” Kane asked hoarsely.
“That is what solitary is, Mr. Creed.”
He gripped the edge of the table. “Arden?”
I blew out a breath and flipped over the paper with Ms. Creed’s details. “Also in solitary at her facility due to lighting a guard on fire. Seems she got her hands on matches somehow.”
A snort escaped Kane. “He deserved it.”
I frowned. “Just like the cops she killed in her explosion at the NYPD?”
Kane’s eyes darkened. “First of all, I meant that the bastard deserved it because Arden rarely takes a life that doesn’t.
I’m not saying she hasn’t fucked up in the past. We all have.
But you should look into him. If I had to guess, he tried to touch her.
As for the NYPD: Rafe and I were beaten by those officers.
Rafe—fuck—they didn’t even get him an interpreter for hours.
I told the fuckers he was deaf and incapable of speaking, and they just kept screaming at him to talk. ”
“And that means they deserved to die?” I pushed.
He gritted his teeth. “It means it’s more complicated than a yes or no answer, agent.
All of this isn’t some tidy response I can give you.
We’re all guilty. We all have blood on our hands, but we also weren’t really given a fucking chance to try to wipe them clean.
Creed is a product. How can you not know that if Rafe told you about Viktor?
We were manufactured to kill by a fucked up system that, by my count, you and the FBI have known about now for over a year.
Us being behind bars? Nothing’s going to change that until we break out, and I can assure you that if you and your buddies don’t get off your asses and start looking into the reason we’ve all done what we did, then Creed will kill again and again and again until every last bastard of S.I.N. is dead.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Let’s slow down, Mr. Creed. What about your one and only visitor. Can you tell me about Florence Mayhew? She and your so-called Ravens haven’t been very cooperative either. Maybe if you could tell me how they’re involved, we can get all this sorted?”
But Kane had gone deadly still. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table white-knuckled. “Keep her name,” he said slowly, terrifyingly, “out of your fucking mouth.”
“Whose name? Florence’s?”
He slammed his fists on the table. “Fuck that bitch. I don’t want to talk about her or see her. If she comes here again, I want her fucking dismissed.”
“You’re in no position to make any demands.
You also have nothing to worry about on that front.
Visitation was officially revoked after your incident with Miss Mayhew.
” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And Mr. Creed, due to your previous statement of a suicide attempt, acknowledgment of a possible breakout, and your continuing threats of violence, I will have to recommend you be moved to solitary with 24 hour surveillance.”
“Fucking fantastic,” he bit out and tugged at where his chains were clipped to the table.
I swore they gave, that the iron bent. “I’m done anyway.
Our story? Creed? Ravens? I’m not fucking telling it, agent.
I refuse. There’s only one person that can do it well, and if they aren’t talking yet, then I’m not taking that away from them.
So you can take your recorder and your fancy little notes and shove them up your goddamn—”
RECORDING ENDED.