Page 114 of The Butterfly Killer

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Marcus stayed overnightin the hospital. He could have been discharged yesterday after going through his statement, but it was easier to stay here than find a hotel. One of the agents had offered to pay for him to get a room, but it felt strange taking money from strangers when they’d just gruel led him for information just a little while earlier.

None of them were in the consensus he was aiding Roman’s escape, however, they were so pressed to find him that their asking turned into demanding after just a couple of minutes.

Patrice had almost broken down over the phone when Marcus finally called him. Patrice would have been there in a heart-beat, but the best he could do was jump on the next plane.

Sitting on the hospital bed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday with crusted dried blood, Marcus wondered if he’d be able to pull himself out of this numb state he’d fallen into.

The hospital room smelled of disinfectant and death. His nose tingled at the familiar, yet still jarring smell. The small room felt bigger with the morning light streaming through the window than it had last night when he was forced to sleep in this uncomfortable bed.

He didn’t realize he’d ever miss the cot in the cabin. He never thought in a million years he would misshim.

He took a look around. He foolishly believed for a second he would be over it after he got some sleep. He could only hope now that these feelings would fade in time. He wasn’t going to get his old life back—that would just be idiotic of him—but he hoped he could manage to pretend long enough.

What he would do if that didn’t work…that was for future Marcus to deal with. It was a feat just getting up this morning.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, but he was jarred out of his staring contest with the wall by a firm knock at the door. He had a second to gather himself before the door swung open.

FBI Agent Mercer wasn’t the last person Marcus expected to see, but he wasn’t the first either.

Marcus started to stand, but Mercer raised his hand. Marcus sunk back to where he’d been rotting away.

The door closed softly behind Mercer.

They let the silence fall around them. Marcus was getting the sense that Mercer was waiting for him to start talking, but even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to find the words. Mercer didn’t seem like the type to feel uncomfortable in silence, however, he did seem like the type to like to to waste time, especially his own.

“We found the car he was driving. It had been dumped in a river about twenty miles from the diner.”

Marcus looked down at his hands. When he told the summarized story of what had gone down since he’d been…kidnapped, he didn’t know he’d have to keep remembering it all over again. It didn’t help that he felt like a traitor giving up even just the littlest bit of information on Roman. Though it wasn’t like he’d told them he was being protected by another memberof the cartel, he felt like even just the slightest bit of information would give the police the edge they needed to locate him.

Even though not even Marcus knew where he could be. That had to be good, right? Marcus had been the one person obsessed with finding him, second to the true Butterfly Killer who meant close to nothing to him now. Now, he didn’t want to know where Roman was. Though this obsession had taken over his life, he couldn’t let it go on. He had to think not only of Roman but himself. If he let this continue, he would only be digging the dagger in deeper.

Mercer tilted his head. “I know this is too soon to bring up, but you don’t seem too upset that he’s still out there.”

Marcus whipped his head up and met Mercer’s eyes.

They narrowed slightly. “I’m not an expert on emotions, but even I can tell when someone is lying.”

Marcus tensed. His body flushed with anger and if it seemed like he was angry because Mercer was doubting his trauma response then that would just be perfectly fine.

“I didn’t lie about anything.” He held himself together with what little strength he had. Really, the only reason he was doing so well right now was because he had to. No one else was going to keep Roman safe on this side.

Though, now that he thought about it, if Lucas was as powerful as his father was, Roman wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Miguel had gotten away with his freakish nature for decades. Why couldn’t Roman?

Something in him sank as he thought about Roman continuing the demented tradition. Marcus could only hope Roman kept it to business and didn’t mix it with pleasure.

Mercer gave him a long stare. Marcus had thought Mercer was a stand-up FBI agent. He’d treated Marcus better than all his fellow officers and had let him in on the investigation whenBlevins had done almost everything to keep Marcus as far away as possible.

He didn’t know Mercer on a deep level. He barely knew the man at all.

He was naive to think that anyone would be on his side.

With a heavy sigh, Marcus shook his head. “Get out. I’m done with being interrogated. I’ve given my statement.”

Still, Mercer stayed, gaze burning into Marcus as if by intimidation alone Marcus would start spilling his guts. He wouldn’t. Mercer would have to cut them out if he wanted them.

Mercer pulled out his wallet. “My card.”

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