Page 27 of Devoted

"Detective Tennyson, nice to meet you." His palm is a touch sweaty. I discretely wipe my hand on my jeans. So, these are the two people who decided Maddox was going to get in the way of my debriefing. Neither of them look like the type of person who has ever been in love, which I quickly decide makes them unqualified for thedecision.

Clark sets the bakery box on the tiny round table under the window. A dozen water bottles have already been lined up on the table. It makes me smile when Clark pulls a stack of crumpled napkins out of his coat pocket. "I brought some pastries." He holds up the napkins that are no doubt covered in lint and whatever funky crumbs he has lining his coat pocket. "Here are a few napkins and the coffee maker is in the bathroom." He looks suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry we couldn't get a better place, but with summer break starting, the beach motels are all bookedup."

"Well, we wanted to make this as convenient for Detective Tennyson as possible." Dr. Renfrew smiles primly my direction. "Are you enjoying your stay at the beach? I understand you're in a little house right on thewater."

"Yes, Detective Maddox—" The man you have banished temporarily from my life, I want to add but don't. "His uncle has a cozy little place in Sunset Cove. It's been very nice. Definitely a hundred steps up from the rehabfacility."

Clark clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you all get to business. I've arranged for an Uber driver to pick you up here in four hours and take you back to the beach house." Doctors are controlling my life and the one in the charge of my rehabilitation has not given me permission to driveyet.

"Four hours," I say, not hiding my dismay. "Wow, I could just about recite my entire life story in four hours. Good thing there are baked goods." I walk to the pastry box and pluck out a lemon Danish. I pick up one of the napkins and give it a good shake before placing it under the pastry. "Like Captain Clark says, let's get down tobusiness."

Clark is so anxious to leave he doesn't even grab a pastry for theroad.

"Anyone else want one before I close the box?" Iask.

"No, thank you," Dr Renfrew says. Mr. Winter is more of a headshaker.

He picks up two chairs that I can only assume the motel has provided and positions them near his chair under the air conditioner. He also picks up one of the napkins to blot his forehead. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm from Colorado. I'm not used to the heat here in California. I wasn't expecting this motel room situation." There's just enough bitterness in his tone to assure me he did a nice bit of complaining when Clark showed him theroom.

"Why don't you take off your coat?" I say. "I see no need for so much formality. Besides, I won't tell anyone." Iwink.

Dr. Renfrew has fallen noticeably silent, but I can feel her watching me as I take a seat. It seems she's doing her psychiatry thing and assessing me before we get into the nitty gritty stuff. Most of which will stay tucked tightly in myhead.

Mr. Winter takes my advice and removes his coat. His shirt is stuck to him. He wipes his forehead again. I grow more convinced with each passing minute that he will make sure our sessions are short and that we wrap this up fast. I'm feeling probably a little too at ease, feeling a little too much as if I have the upper hand, as I casually munch my pastry. And I'mright.

Mr. Winter, feeling somewhat revived by shedding his coat, sits back against the chair. "Detective Tennyson," he pauses. "Since we'll be engaged in long conversations, may I call you Angie? I don't mind if you call meWinter."

"Sure,Winter." I take special care to say his name. He's using my first name but I'm stuck with the surname. It feels like a control tactic but I let itgo.

"Great." He wipes his head again. "Angie, I specialize in helping people who have been held captive by a cult. Particularly people who were subjected to narcotics and mind controldrugs."

The lemon pastry catches in my throat. I hold up a finger. "Just a second." I walk to the table knowing they are exchangingexpertglances as they watch me toss the rest of the pastry on the table and pick up a bottle of water. Rather than drink it, what I really want to do is pour it over my head to cool the rage. I gulp some back to take away the dryness in my throat and return to thechair.

"With all due respect, Mr. Winter, I don't know why they sent you to question me. I was never in a cult or kidnapped or controlled by narcotics. I know the last one is a big stretch on the truth but I don't give a fuck. I'm toomad.

Winter reaches back to the coat he hung on his chair and pulls out a small tape recorder. "Do you mind if we tape everything? It's easier than writing it alldown."

"If it gets us out of here faster, tapeaway."

I can feel proper Dr. Renfrew growing quiet like stone, taking it all in, most likely already categorizing me as uncooperative and snarky. Or maybe doctors don't use snarky. Snidepossibly.

Winter pushes the button on his early century tape recorder. Looks like one of the first ones made after cassette tapes went out of style. "Angie, I think we can both agree that you just spent time in the hospital and a rehab facility dealing with severe withdrawals from a highly addictive drug, a narcotic, according to the doctors familiar with yourcase."

I nod. He motions to the taperecorder.

"Yes." I make a point of talking to therecorder.

"Let's start from the beginning," he continues. "According to Captain Clark you volunteered for this assignment. Were there certain aspects of it that intrigued you?" I've sat in court rooms enough to recognize a leading question. Cult expert, my ass. This guy is either from the Drug Enforcement Agency or InternalAffairs.

"I think you'll have to make yourself clearer. What do you mean about certain aspects?" I counter. New beads of sweat. He wipes hisforehead.

He pauses to think of the right phrase. "I'm sure by the time you volunteered for the assignment you knew vaguely that Lace Underground was a club focused on drugs and sex. Was that of particularinterest?"

I glance at Renfrew to see if she's as stunned as me. She's wearing her psych pokerface.

"I'm a detective who specializes in drug crimes. Sex crimes generally go hand in hand with them. So I wouldn't call it a particular interest. I'd call it part of my job. Two men were murdered and a young woman was found dead in a dumpster. The three victims seemed connected to Lace Underground. I went undercover to make sure no more bodies showedup."

Winter picks up a file folder that's sitting under the chair. He opens it and scans the papers inside. "You started your assignment by posing as a homeless girl, a nineteen-year-old who was down on her luck. Tawny Smith. Is thatright?"

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