Page 138 of Another Girl Lost

As I lay immobile on the floor, Dawson shrugged off his jacket and pressed it to the wound slashed across Margo’s chest. He called for an ambulance. Lynn began to weep.

All the chaos and noise swirled in my brain, just as it had when Tanner’s van had crashed. I was getting swept up in a current too strong for me to fight. And I could feel that I was slipping inside myself just as I had in Tanner’s basement cell.

Chapter Forty-Three

SCARLETT

Saturday, July 20, 2024

11:00 a.m.

I sat in the gray interview room bathed in shadows, windowless and stifling. Soundproof walls smelled of fear and worry, and the single table and two chairs were both stark and uncomfortable. Glancing up at the ceiling, I noted the wads of paper that had caught in the square white panels. How many people had sat in this chair and waited for someone like Dawson to ask difficult questions designed to incriminate?

I’d waited in a dark room before, but when the door opened, there was always a monster lurking. I closed my eyes, refusing to picture myself locked in a cell for the next three decades. If Della’s goal was to reincarcerate me, she was well on her way.

Nerves tightened as my panic ticked up several notches. I had done nothing wrong. Della was the villain of this story. I should be cleared. Anger balled in my belly. Who was I kidding? Life didn’t play fair.

I glanced down at the clean scrubs that swallowed my body and at my bandaged right hand. Margo’s blood had made the knife handle slick, and the blade had cut my palm. Her blood and mine dotted myhands and neck, and the prongs of the Taser had left two angry red marks. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in this room.

After Tanner, the cops had been kind to me. They didn’t keep me waiting in a room like this. They’d brought me water and coffee often when they spoke in soft tones. No handcuffs. They’d not been trying to intimidate me.

When footsteps echoed in the hallway, I sat a little straighter and closed my eyes. The door opened, lights flipped on, and as I slowly lifted my lids, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Dawson had a file tucked under his arm and two cups in his beefy hands. He took a sip from one, set the second one filled with water in front of me, and tossed the file on the table. He angled the chair on a diagonal near me and sat. Our knees were inches apart.

I threaded my fingers and sat back. If he thought he was scary, he’d have to try harder.

“How did we get here, Scarlett?”

“I want my lawyer.” I was in over my head and needed his help.

“I’ll call your lawyer soon.”

“I’m only talking to Luke Kane, Detective Dawson.”

“It could be a while. I’d hate for you to sit here any longer than necessary.”

Maybe. Or maybe he wouldn’t come at all. My life had been messy. Now it was a shit show. And my bench was shallow. “I was locked in a basement for eighty-eight days, remember? You’ll have to try harder to intimidate me.”

Margo must have still been in surgery. That knife had sliced through her silk blouse and into her flesh. I had no idea if I’d hit a major vessel and done real damage. I’d just wanted to stop her.

“Scarlett, let me help you. I want to get this sorted out so you can go home. Talk to me.”

We were best friends now? He was my buddy? My pal? I’d sliced up his partner and girlfriend. I had no doubts about his objectives. “Lawyer first, Detective Dawson.”

“We have footage of you speaking to your latest victim, and we’ve also confirmed you were one of the last people to see her alive. You also stalked and kidnapped a second woman. You’d have killed her if you’d not been stopped.”

My chest was so tight, I could barely breathe. Had I been the last to see Tiffany alive?

“And I can also link you to the human remains found entombed in a wall.” He tipped forward until his knees almost brushed mine. He knew I didn’t like to be touched. “What set you off? Why call in the location of the first body that’s been hidden for a decade? Why kill again after all these years?”

I didn’t respond.

He sat back, as if he had all the time in the world. “Tell me about Della. Tell me how she hurt you.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Not talking.”

“You and me have history, Scarlett. You don’t want another cop handling your case. I’ve seen you at your worst. Others won’t understand you like I do.”

“You understand me?” His words buzzed around my head in swirls of bullshit. My anger boiled through the ice and surfaced in my expression.

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