“Why?” she demands. “Why—” And then the rest must come rushing back. Because she stops and stays silent for more than a minute. We stand there, just a few feet apart but separated by more than a tall hedge. We’re separated by fifteen years. By a night in the snow and an eternity of regrets. By choices that pulled us apart, and fate or bad luck that will bring us back together.
“Do you want to talk or not?” I finally ask, breaking the silence. “Because I have a secret to tell you.”
“I want to arrest you.”
“Meet me in the middle and see if you still feel the same way after.”
“I will. You’re not going to get away with what you did.”
“You can believe what you want, and I might be an asshole for last weekend. But it’s the things I did fifteen years ago that count. And I did keep you safe. I never raped you. And I never wanted to hurt you.”
“No? So coerced drugging isn’t hurting someone? What if I was allergic to that drug? What if I was—”
“You’re not.”
“Don’t interrupt me, asshole. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Go left,” I growl back. “Then take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again. I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter Seventeen - Molly
I stand absolutely still, listening to his fading footsteps as he walks away. He’s crazy. Insane. What to do?
Run. Any man who would drug a woman, take her home, wash her off in the shower and then dress her up like some doll—well, I don’t have a strong enough word for how goddamned creepy that is.
Go meet him. Because any man who does all those things just to keep a secret… yeah. That’s some secret he has.
That fucking cave.
It’s all coming back to me. The gate in the side of the mountain. The dark tunnel with the red running lights. The… lab? Holographic woman? Guns.
I swallow hard. I’m not new to danger. Hell, I cut my teeth on things far more dangerous than standing in a hedge maze at night with a creep. But… he’s so very, very creepy. Serial killer kind of creepy.
I shudder and look down at my gun. I do have this. And if I don’t go meet him then I’ll have to try to backtrack my way out of this damn maze. I can still hear voices—people might be in the maze. But will they find me and let me follow them out? It’s a lot larger than I originally thought. I counted the longest path and it was forty-two steps. And that wasn’t even the entire length of one side.
I could scream and someone would come rescue me. But how the hell would I show my face at work tomorrow?
So… I walk forward and take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again.
And simple as you please, there I am. Standing in the center of the maze.
“What a letdown, huh?” bike boy says from the other side of a huge statue of a satellite dish. It’s fifteen feet in diameter and mounted on a pedestal ten feet high. Spotlights on the ground point up at it, highlighting the greenish copper patina.
“I expected more from Thomas. A Greek god or something. A fucking minotaur, maybe. But this piece of shit?” He stops looking at the disappointing sculpture and drags his gaze to meet mine. “He’s let me down before, though. So what’s new?”
“You know Mr. Brooks?” Brooks doesn’t look like the kind of guy who hangs around serial killers. But then again… I have no idea. God, I wish I knew the people of this town better. Having no history sucks.
“Damn,” bike boy says. “I didn’t get a chance to look at you inside.” And then he looks me up and down like he’s a wolf and wants to eat me up.
I swallow down the apprehension I have about being alone with this man in the middle of a giant puzzle and start with the basics. “What’s your name? And why did you… do all those terrible things to me?”
He gives me half a smile. And when I say half a smile, I mean only half there. Like he’s at war with himself and good and evil are the same thing. “How much do you remember?”
“Most of it leading up to the…” I was just about to say kiss. I grunt and shake my head. “Drugs. What were they? Memory inhibitors, obviously. But what exactly? So I know whether you’ve damaged me permanently in some way.”
“Well, obviously”—he laughs, repeating my own word—“I’m not telling you that. I’m not telling you anything, in fact. If you want to know, well, Detective, you’re gonna have to put in a little more effort. Come find me. You made me that promise and I’m gonna hold you to it.”
“I did find you,” I remind him, spreading my arms wide. “And what makes you think you’re going anywhere but jail tonight?”
“Jail for what? You have evidence?” He takes a step forward and I have to force myself not to instinctively step back at his approach.
“I’m sure I could muster some up.”
“Aha,” he says, tsking his tongue and pointing a black-gloved finger at me. “I see you’re catching on already. If the CCPD doesn’t have any evidence that’s what they generally do. Just muster some up. Well, I’ve got a pretty good lawyer, gun girl. So take your best shot.”