Page 53 of Sole Survivor

“We’ll need access to the cameras.”

“The ones at the other location run off a different system than the ones here. I’ll have the footage sent over to you.”

“I’d rather watch it before it’s been sent,” Garfield says, and I know he’s thinking I might try fucking with the footage. He’s right, of course. He’s just too late to do anything about it.

“There is a security room over there. Have Fauna take you in and explain what you’re after. She’ll give you access to it. Of course, she’ll stay with you. Like I said, we have sensitive information on site, so without a warrant, I can only let you see the area and the cameras directly involved in the theft.”

“Convenient,” Hask mutters.

“It’s the law—something I would have thought you would know. Unless you’re trying to get me to break it so that you’d have a legitimate reason to hold me?”

He says nothing after that, heading toward the exit. I follow behind him with a sigh.

He’s waiting for me just outside the doors, where he ushers me toward the waiting squad car and into the backseat. I don’t give him the satisfaction of saying anything, especially when we already know this is unnecessary. I’m not under arrest. I would have happily gone to the police station to answer their questions if they had asked me to. Instead, I’m being shoved into a police car outside my company. This will be enough to get people talking, which is probably what Hask hoped to accomplish. If he can’t find anything to hold me on, at least he can have a hand in smearing my reputation. Little does he know that I just don’t give a fuck.

I zone out on the car ride over, ignoring the uniformed cop driving in favor of watching the view outside my window. It’s only when we pull up outside the station that I realize I should have let Rue know what was going on.

It’s probably better not to drag her into this anyway.

I keep quiet as the cop lets me out of the car and walks me into the station, all eyes turning our way. I don’t let it bother me. Everyone here has already made up their mind about me,whether it’s warranted or not, thanks to Hask’s loudly spread opinion. I take the seat offered in the small interrogation room and begin what I know will be a long wait.

“Detective Hask will be in soon to conduct the interview. He would like to wait, however, until Agent Garfield has returned to proceed. Protocol and all that. Can I get you a drink while you wait?”

Protocol, my ass. Garfield will probably be gone for hours. I shake my head and lean back in the chair.

I watch as the cop leaves, then turn to the two-way mirror. I know Hask is on the other side, standing there with a smug ass expression on his face. I do the only thing I can to piss him off.

I close my eyes and take a nap.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rue

Ienter the police station, avoiding eye contact with everyone but the person behind the desk. I feel people’s eyes on me, mostly from general curiosity rather than recognition.

I stand behind an elderly couple whispering to each other. The woman leans into who I assume is her husband. He has his arm around her shoulders, offering her comfort as he murmurs to her. I wonder why they’re here. A wayward grandchild, perhaps? Or maybe they’re victims of a crime themselves.

I cross my arms, hating the thought of that. Violence is part of all our lives. There isn’t a single adult on the planet that hasn’t seen it, heard it, or been touched by it at some point.

We navigate the waters we live in as best we can, given our circumstances. Some swim with all their might away from the violence that marked them. Some swim toward it, drawn to the familiar, finding comfort in the devil they know. Then there are those who give in to the twisted lessons they were taught. They allow themselves to sink into the darkness, falling into the abyssthey never quite managed to pull themselves from. The baton of violence gets passed to them and they become the very monster they once ran from.

I heard someone say once that we have the exact lives we think we deserve. I called bullshit then and now?—

I suck in a breath when I realize I just remembered something. Sure, it might not be anything significant, but it’s something. I try to return to the same train of thought, hoping it will trigger something else.

What was I thinking about? Oh, right, the life we deserve. I don’t believe that for a second. Some people are privileged enough to have an array of choices available to them. While others’ choices are limited to food or shelter, run and hide, or stay and fight—all choices, of course, but flawed with no obvious right answer. People who answer those types of questions with amusement or impertinence have clearly never been in those situations.

My eyes drift back to the old couple.

Accepting there is violence in the world is one thing. Living with it is something else entirely, and there is something especially heinous when violence is used against those more vulnerable. Older people and children are easy prey. It makes me question whether we’re as evolved as we like to think because, more often than not, we act like a bunch of animals.

The couple turns to let the person in front of them move past, and I get a glimpse at the older man’s face. He has a swollen black eye and a split lip. His papery-thin skin is black and blue around his jaw and cheekbone.

His wife looks uninjured, but the dark bags under her eyes and the fear in her expression tell their own tale of survival. She might not have been on the receiving end, but I guarantee she felt every fucking punch.

I leave space between us to give them some privacy as they step up to the counter. I look around the reception area and see a row of chairs on each side of the room. A couple of women sit next to each other in the far corner. Their expressions look bleak. Their hands entwined as they draw strength from one another.

A few seats down from them is a man who looks to be in his late fifties. His arms are folded over his large chest, and his legs are crossed at the ankles. His head is tipped back, and his eyes are closed, making me wonder how long he’s been here.

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