I refused. I might have been exhausted and mentally brain dead, but I tried my best to be completely honest. It was like they were dying for me to confess I was involved with my father’s crimes. As if they were waiting for it, wanting that confession so damn bad they were downright breathless with anticipation.
But I had nothing to confess beyond bringing Katie to them. I thought they’d be happy, you know? This girl—I saw her on the news just that morning. A missing child report, stating that she disappeared three days ago at the amusement park down on the boardwalk and they believed she’d been abducted. She’d been seen with a man that they described in the most general terms it was almost laughable.
Three days gone. I found her on the second day. Brought her to the police station on the third day. What the hell happened to her on that first day? How had I missed it? While the detectives left me stewing in my own thoughts when they first brought me here, I pondered the question.
Where had I been? How had I missed this?
I racked my brain until it came to me all at once. I’d gone to football practice as usual, then hung out with a friend for a while. We smoked pot and got the munchies, so we raided his kitchen and then watched TV—old-school cartoons that made us laugh hysterically—until his parents came home from work, ruining our good time.
It was a typical house, typical family, all of it so nice and normal despite our smoking a joint and eating most of their food. Hell, I guess that part was normal, too. What wasn’t normal was having a dad who, while you were taking care of a case of the munchies, kidnapped a twelve-year-old girl and raped her.
Fucking raped her.
Remembering the fear in Katie’s eyes, the way she cowered from me when I first entered the storage room, imagining what he did to her, made me want to puke.
Worse? How realization slowly dawned. The police didn’t see my bringing Katie to them as a rescue. They wanted to believe it was a confession. Dad, of course, was their number-one suspect. I quickly realized I was their second suspect. They believed we were co-conspirators.
“Get what straight?” I asked wearily. I was so tired of their questions. Well, the one detective’s questions. The other officer sat quietly, taking notes on a yellow legal pad. His writing looked like chicken scratch.
“That you have no idea where your father is.”
I slammed my hand on the edge of the table, startling the other detective so bad his pen dragged across the legal pad in a jagged line. “I’ve already told you, I don’t know where he’s at. I left the storage shed with Katie and brought her here.” I paused, wishing I had something to drink, but I’d drained the soda they brought me over an hour ago. “Is she okay?”
“She’s as fine as she can be, considering what she’s been through,” the detective snapped. He leaned across the table, his gaze narrowed, his tone menacing. “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?”
I went completely still. They’d been toying with me since they’d brought me in here. Never coming right out and saying it, but I knew what they believed. They had no plans on letting me out of this crappy little room with the beige walls and no windows anytime soon. I’m surprised they hadn’t tossed me in a jail cell already.
Not like they could send me home. I’d probably get sent to foster care, and that was the last thing I wanted. My house had been roped off and was officially considered a crime scene, overrun with police officers. And my father was nowhere to be found.
“Just say it,” I murmured, tired of the repeated questions, the irritation that radiated off the both of them in waves. They hated me. Judged by a jury of two, I’d already been tried and convicted by them.
“Fine. You want to know what we think? Here it is. We believe you were an accessory to the kidnapping and rape of Katherine Watts.” I flinched at the word rape, and at hearing her full name for the first time. “And we’re going to dig and dig and badger the fuck out of you until you finally come clean and tell us exactly what happened. Because you know. We know you know. You’re just a punk asshole, a replica of your dad.”
“I didn’t do anything.” My voice hitched and I clamped my lips shut. I felt like crying but damn it, I wasn’t a kid. I needed to suck it up. “I brought her here. I wanted to save her.”
The detective threw back his head and laughed like I’d just said the funniest thing ever. Asshole. I sat on the edge of my chair, tense with anger, my hands clenched into fists, and I lifted them up, resting them on the table. “You didn’t want to save her. You wanted to save your own damn skin. You knew your father was taking too long with her and that something needed to happen before he blew it. So you panicked. Decided the best thing would be to bring Katherine to us, look like the supposed hero and get yourself off the hook. Throw your dad to the wolves and you end up looking like a damn saint.”
I said nothing. There was no point in defending myself. No one cared what I had to say; no one was listening to me.
So it was best I kept my fucking mouth shut.
I wait.