Chapter 30 #2
I gulped, wanting this to be over. “They put the bag over my head again and shoved me in a car. Then they dragged me out and carried me somewhere. Someone cut the restraints and then pushed me inside what turned out to be a small room.”
“Describe the room.”
I sighed, the pressure building in my head. Why was he doing this? The agents would have asked the exact same questions, but no—he had to do it himself.
“Small. One bed, a big window, a bathroom.”
“What did the window face?”
“Sir—”
My father rounded the desk and sat back down in his chair, his hand raised in Riviera’s direction. What a silent and polite way of saying: shut the fuck up and don’t question me.
“A brick wall.”
“What color were the bricks?” My father barely let me finish my sentence.
“Red,” I responded quickly, knowing that he was counting down the milliseconds of my hesitation.
“What floor were you on?”
“I don’t know. The window had metal grates. I couldn’t look down.”
There was another pause, as everyone seemed to just take a breath, but not my father. He stared me down, promptly launching into it again. “Did you hear voices? Sirens? Birds? Cars?”
Fuck, he was relentless. I wondered what to say. I would be too suspicious if I said I heard nothing. “Voices. I heard voices. No sirens.”
My father stilled, narrowing his eyes at me. He was the hawk up in the air, and I was a tiny field mouse, desperately trying to find an escape from the shadow above. Trying to shield myself from the talons of the hawk who would inevitably swoop in and trap me.
“What voices? Tell us exactly what you heard.”
“I didn’t hear any words,” I murmured, pretending to remember. “There was mumbling. Low conversation outside the door. But not often. I heard it for the first day and then again for the last few days.”
Everyone in the room was looking at me. Waiting. Waiting for me to keep talking, contradict myself, or make a mistake.
But I held out.
Both Collins and Riviera had given up, neither one of them asking any questions. My father stood again and began pacing the room, his next question sounding abnormally quiet.
“Did they hurt you?”
Yes. Alex pulled my hair as soon as I met him. Yes, Alex ordered to zip tie my ankles. Yes. All that pain was pleasure in comparison to being back home.
“No. Whatever was on my wrists and ankles hurt, but otherwise, no.”
“Did they…” my father trailed off, taking long strides up and down the room. “Touch you? Violate you?”
Collins breathed in sharply, exchanging glances with Riviera, but I kept my eyes on my father. This was awkward, but I was ready for it. Used to it. Used to having to reveal private parts of my life.
“No,” I responded simply. “Nobody touched me. I didn’t see anyone this entire time.”
My father stopped and stood behind Collins, burrowing his eyes into mine. He was unsatisfied with how this went—I could tell based on years of experience.
“I think, maybe let’s finish off for today.” Special Agent Riviera found her authority and threw me a sympathetic smile. “Miss Moretti, we’ll need you to come in again. Tomorrow at ten in the morning?”
I sighed with relief…but not too much. “Okay.”
Eager to get out of there, I pushed my chair back, just like Collins and Riviera, but then—
“Jade. Stay.”
I didn’t have to look up to know who commanded that. I plopped my butt back on the chair while the two agents exited.
“Jady, come here. Come here.” My dad walked up to stand right beside me, stretching out his arms. Another awkward hug. “I’m so happy you’re back safe and sound.”
I pulled back and nodded, forcing a smile. He lost weight, like the separation took a toll on him. The guilt came back—he was worried while I was tanning on the beach and falling in love.
“But you have to tell me the truth. Where were you these weeks?” And the illusion shattered at once.
I blinked up at him, refusing to acknowledge that he didn’t believe me.
“I’ve talked to Xavier, he said he received an anonymous tip.
No phone call, no text, nothing. Just a note on his car.
How did these men—” my father used air quotes, “—find him?”
Stunned at his words, my feet grew into the floor and my jaw hung open. “W-what? Do you think I’m lying? About being kidnapped?” I whisper-yelled, forcing my tears back.
“What were you really doing in Miami that weekend, Jade? You went clubbing. Drinking. Partying.” He listed it off as if each activity was a deadly sin.
“That’s not you. You’ve always had a moral compass, but after your breakup with Xavier…
” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s like you’ve lost your way.”
I wasn't going to cry from the pain and anger. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
I gulped instead and inhaled deeply, spitting the words at him. “Xavier beat me. He almost killed me. Did you ask him about his moral compass?”
But at that question, my father scoffed and shook his head, as if everything I said was an exaggeration. Ludicrous. A lie! I may have lied at the debrief, but I never lied about Xavier’s actions.
“Jade, I think you’re being a bit dramatic. So you guys had a few fights and disagreements, so what? What couple doesn’t? He loves you and cares about you. Breaking off a relationship over a few misunders—”
“Misunderstan—”
But the word died on my tongue. It was useless anyway; my father had his own version of reality where my words had no weight. Instead, I wanted to get confirmation of something else. “Have you been keeping in touch with him? Since we broke up?”
My heart pounded as I waited for my father’s answer, and, slowly, but so confidently, he nodded, breaking my heart for the last time. Without any guilt or regret, he confirmed it. “Yes. We have. I truly believe you should give it another shot.”
The plan was drawing itself in my mind—I’d fuck up this investigation for my father, but not only that, I’d embarrass him. Eviscerate him until he ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.
“Fuck Xavier,” I said, emphasizing every letter. My father reared back, his eyes wide at my statement. “And fuck you for choosing him…over me.”
“Jade, I didn’t choose him over you—hey! Come back here!”
But I was no longer listening. I marched out the door and ran down the steps to the reception desk. I was going to call a locksmith, change the locks on my apartment, and go back home.
I’d go to work. I’d work on the case. I’d bury my father, and then, I wanted Alex to lick champagne off my neck.