Page 7 of The Lies We Believe

He arched a thick, dark brow. Even though it was threaded with gray, it still made me quake in my boots. “Well? Time is of the essence here, as you well know. We need to make use of these leads before they go cold.”

I pulled out the chair in front of his desk and collapsed into it. My shoulders rose as I sucked in a deep breath, trying to tamper down my racing heart. “Alright, I’ll level with you. I know the guy in room five. We were in foster care together.” Bowers eyes gleamed, formulating ideas on how this would help his case. If he could crack this, doors would open and he’d no longer be a small-time detective. “I was thinking our relationship would be beneficial to the case. That I might get information from him that no one else could.”

Bower braced his arms on the only clear space on his desk and steepled his hands under his chin. “You think you’re up to it?” I nodded, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to say it without my voice cracking and betraying me. “He hasn’t spoken to anyone since we brought him in.”

“He won’t, either.”

“What makes you say that? Other than you knew him eighteen years ago?”

My gut sank like a lead weight, and it took every ounce of strength for me to not fall apart at the fact he knew my history so well. “He’s mute.”

“Well, that explains a few things, doesn’t it? I assumed it was because of the concussion, but Dr. D’Souza cleared him for questioning.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I processed his words. Concussion? Why wasn’t I told about that before they sent me in?

Davis, that little shit. He hated me. I’d long suspected it was because of the color of my skin. The snide remarks and how he kept trying to make me look incompetent, but this? This just confirmed he was out to get me.

“No one informed me of that before I went in. That information should have been shared,” I ground out and scrubbed my hand over my face. “So?” I let the unspokenquestion thicken the air between us as Bower sat back in his chair and rested his right ankle over his knee.

“Are you sure you’re up to this? It won’t be easy, especially if there is an emotional connection.” His steel-gray eyes bored into me. It felt like he was sifting through my memories to find the history River and I shared.

“I think so. We were just kids back then, and while I looked out for him?—”

“Good, that’s good.” Bower picked up one of the case files littering his desk. “Get Montoya to dig up as much information about the kid as possible while you go back in and see if you can get him to talk.” He glanced at me. “Take a pen and paper with you. I’m assuming he doesn’t know how to sign?”

“No. From the time I spent with him, I believe it’s a case of selective mutism that’s more trauma based than anything else.”

“Alright, get started with that, and then we’ll get a plan in place.” The room fell silent for a moment. “Will you be okay keeping him in protective custody with you? He’s going to be a key component of this case, and I fear if we let him go, he’ll be dragged right back into that shitshow, or worse, killed.”

My heart fell through the floor at his words. Bower wasn’t heartless—he was married with three kids—but he was a straight shooter and didn’t mince his words. That made him an effective leader, but he often came across as brash and inconsiderate.

I hadn’t even thought about how River ended up in his current situation. He seemed somewhat settled at Mrs. Wilkinson’s while I’d been there, but I didn’t know what had happened after. I called Mrs. Wilkinson to check on him once I’d got settled with the Hendrix’s, but she hadn’t been able to give me much information as River had moved on about six months after I did. Turned out the sweet old lady had a stroke and never fully regained the use of her left side, so she couldn’t continue her passion as a foster carer. She had a soft spot for River, saidhe was such a bright kid and had a great future ahead of him. She just prayed the system didn’t ruin him before he’d gotten the chance to live. And here we were, eighteen years later, and it seemed her prayers went unanswered.

I cleared my throat. “That’s not a problem at all.”

Bower nodded. “Good. You can go now.”

My chin touched my chest, and I let everything we’d just discussed sink into me, knowing my life was about to change in ways I’d never expected. The door shut with a snick behind me, the weight of expectation resting on my shoulders. I grabbed a couple of large coffees, then headed over to where my and Montoya’s desks were.

“Well?” She spun around in her chair, her thick black braid almost whacking her in the face.

I cracked a smile and hid my laugh behind my coffee cup. “Here you go.” She smiled that too-sweet smile up at me as she clutched her cup to her chest. I parked myself on the edge of her desk, toying with the lid on mine. “He said yes.”

“Hell yes!” She fist bumped the air, and heads swiveled in her direction, the rest of the guys looking at her like she’d gone crazy. Maybe she had. I knew how much this job meant to her and what her parents did to support her to get to where she was today. “So what’s the deal, then?”

My tongue hit the roof of my mouth, and I grabbed the chair from my desk behind hers and sat down, taking the weight off my feet for a minute. “Bower is on board but doesn’t know exactly for how long or to what end. Right now, he wants you to find out everything you can about River, while I try to get him to tell me as much as he can about last night.”

“The guys say the kid hasn’t spoken the whole time he’s been here.” Concern etches her features, and I nod. “D’Souza said he had a concussion, lacerations to his arms and legs?—”

I held up my hands. “I don’t think I can take knowing any more about what they did to him, if I’m honest. Although I can usually detach myself from cases, this one is personal, and…”

“And he’s someone to you, isn’t he?” Her hand gave mine a brief squeeze. “This case is going to take its toll on you, Benson, and I’d suggest hooking yourself up with an appointment or two with your therapist. I know you’ll get seen by the station shrink to check if you’re fit for work and all, but I think you need someone you can trust to go through the deeper repercussions of it all.”

“I know. You’re right.” I scuffed my boot against the shitty carpet covering the floor. “He was just a kid when I knew him. Now he’s a man with a whole life I know nothing about. It was such a shock seeing his eyes looking back at me. Eyes I remember in the round face of a kid, but now…” But now he wasn’t.

The River that was waiting in interview room five was not the River I knew, and that was damn hard to get my head around. I hated to even think about the hell his life had been, but I guessed that dark mystery would unravel in the upcoming days.

“Do you know his full name? I checked his prints against the system, but there were no hits, so he’s never been arrested. That’s good, right?” Montoya’s dark eyes burned with hope, and all I could do was shrug.

I didn’t know—that seemed to be my saying of the day. Just because he hadn’t been brought in, didn’t mean he hadn’t lived in the gutter. It didn’t mean he hadn’t had to fight to survive every day. There was no telling what he’d been through. I just had to be brave enough to ask, and I wasn’t sure I was.

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