“You keep referring to him in the present tense, why?”
I can see his face in my mind’s eye, so beautiful, so sad. There’s blood smudged across his cheek, but I don’t care. I’m not squeamish any more. It’s the face of the man I love, the only one I’ve ever loved and it’s difficult to imagine there will ever be another. I wipe more tears away. That bastard. “It’s easier,” I finally answer, “I don’t like the idea he’s gone.”
Sloan nods. “Go ahead, tell me what happened next.”
“Nothing much really, after breakfast he helped me get dressed. Then he tied me to the bed, gagged me, and left for a few hours.” I know where he went now – he went to the bank, but I don’t know if I should tell Sloan or not. Then again, Reed already knows about the money. “He went to the bank,” I add. Sloan flips through her paperwork and writes something down.
“Why isn’t Reed here? Why the both of you at different times?”
“Agent Reed and I have different job descriptions. He’s interested in the case; I’m interested in your well-being as well as the case.”
“So he doesn’t give a shit about what happens to me, is what you’re saying.” I’m not shocked by the information; it’s something I already knew to be true, but still, it stings to hear it from someone else.
“I didn’t say that. Please don’t put words in my mouth,” Sloan says. I think I’ve made her uncomfortable, but I can’t say for what reason. “Agent Reed says you kissed him?”
My eyes open wide and my mouth is slightly agape. I can’t believe he told her! Why would he do that! “So!?!” My face is heating up, and I’m positive it stems in equal parts from anger and embarrassment.
This is a side of Sloan I haven’t seen yet, her brow is arched and her mouth is a little tight at the corners. “I’m not your enemy. Please stop acting like I am. He told me because he’s concerned for you and the only reason I bring it up is because you were just telling me he doesn’t care about you.”
“Fine! I kissed him.” I look away from Sloan and toward the windows. Only Reed uses the kindergarten interrogation room to talk to me. I probably make him nervous. Good.
“Why?”
“Because he had something I wanted.” The words fall right out of my mouth and although I know the picture they paint of me, I can’t say I care. I’m fixated on the pigeon walking back and forth outside my window. I’m envious of the pigeon. It doesn’t have a care in the world beyond eating, sleeping, and defecating on park statues. That’s the life.
“Is that the only reason?” She’s trying to keep her words innocent, but I know nothing she says is innocent, not even her stories about interpretive taxidermy. It would be easy to forget Sloan is a member of the FBI and she’s trained to handle cases like mine. She comes off as very empathetic, and even a little vulnerable herself, but she wouldn’t be where she is today if she weren’t a wolf under that wool suit.
My head swivels toward her and away from the window. I make myself smile brazenly, “Are you jealous, Janice?”
She doesn’t miss a beat, “Of what, Olivia?” I smile again and this time there’s an answering smile on her face. Yeah, Sloan has teeth. I like teeth.
We go back and forth for several minutes. She asks me a question and I turn it around to pose the same question of her and she turns it back on me again. It would seem like useless conversation, but I think we’re both learning little things about one another with each exchange. Still, I’d rather be talking to Reed. I tell Sloan as much.
“That isn’t unusual, you know. Some victims of abuse tend to gravitate toward strong, authoritative men…like Agent Reed. They also tend to mimic the behavior expected of them by their abusers, especially when that behavior is of a sexual nature.”
I feel like she’s just doused me in hot oil. “Don’t. Don’t do that bullshit psychotherapy crap on me. It was a fucking kiss, not a pledge of my undying devotion. And for the record, I’m not some broken rape victim you have to put back together. I’m fine.” I’m crying again and I hate myself for it. Why won’t my face stop leaking!
“I’m sorry, Livvie. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sloan says. She sounds sincere and that almost pisses me off more than her suggestion I’m some basket-case.
Aren’t you? You don’t know who you are anymore. You have no place to go from here.
“I think we’re good for today. Do you want to stop? We can go have some lunch in the cafeteria. Maybe play some cards in the rec room, or maybe checkers? I love checkers.”
“Sloan?”
“Yes?”