The Confession Page 5

  “How are you?” That voice. Low and smooth, falling over my whole body like this satin dress.

  “I . . .” I’d asked him something first, hadn’t I? I couldn’t remember what. “I’m great.” Could he hear the lie? I couldn’t tell. “What about you? How’s your chest?”

  I placed my hand on my own side, in the place where he’d been stabbed. But the flashes that returned from that night weren’t of a man with a knife. They were of a lap dance. Red lingerie. My hips grinding against his.

  “What? Oh.” He shook his head. “Fine.”

  My thoughts shifted to his back, and the scar that would forever serve as a reminder of when he’d been jumped in prison. How many times had Alec’s life been endangered because of Maxim Stein?

  “And everything else? Work? Parole?” Smooth, Anna.

  One of his brows lifted. “I had to stop work. With the trial it got . . . complicated. And parole’s done. I finished last month.”

  I smiled. “I don’t know why I said that. Nervous, I guess.”

  I closed my eyes tightly. He chuckled, and the velvety sound loosened every one of my muscles.

  “Alec, there you are.” A woman came up from behind him holding a champagne flute in one hand. She looked stunning in her short red dress with her auburn hair swept up in a twist on the back of her head, and it took me a moment to place her.

  “Anna Rossi,” she said, as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. “I was wondering if you’d be here.”

  Something in her voice told me she wasn’t thrilled.

  “Janelle,” I said, tensing. “I’m still a volunteer. Is everything all right?” I glanced back to Alec. “I didn’t know you were planning on coming.”

  She wiped at the lipstick on her glass with her thumb. I tried to remember her in one of her suits with a gun in her holster, but couldn’t. All I saw was full makeup, dangly earrings, and the way Alec stiffened as her shoulder brushed against his arm.

  “Before the FBI I worked for the state police busting child abusers,” she said. “CASA’s always been an important program to me.”

  “You’re a donor,” I realized.

  “You make it sound like I’m giving a kidney or something.” She laughed. Sipped her drink. “I just write a check.”

  “Well.” Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong. “Thank you.”

  Alec was scowling. I wanted to reach up and rub the lines between his brows away with my thumbs. Once, I would have done so without thinking, but things were different now.

  “You look good,” I said to Alec. Wow. Nice move. I turned quickly to Janelle. “I mean, you both do. Like . . . movie stars. Or something.”

  What the living fuck.

  “Aww,” said Janelle. “That’s sweet. I wasn’t sure how this would go, but Alec insisted it would be all right. I should have trusted him.”

  “This?” I asked, right as she slipped her arm into the crook of Alec’s elbow.

  My lips parted, but I immediately shut them. I was an idiot. I was the world’s biggest fool. What did I think he was doing here? What had I thought when I’d seen them together? That he was just a friend, like Marcos was to me?

  I felt ill. My head was starting to pound, right at the base of my skull.

  “That was fast,” I muttered.

  I straightened and looked him in the eye, wishing I could see past the wall he’d thrown up.

  “It was nice seeing you,” I said. “Excuse me.”

  My ankles wobbled on my high heels as I turned and walked faster and faster through the crowd of people toward the nearest door. I’d hoped for the exit, hell even a bathroom, but I found myself in the kitchen.

  “Can I help you?” a woman in a black tuxedo asked me as I rushed past. I didn’t stop, I kept moving until I’d reached a quiet corner, surrounded by metal racks, and sunk down against the cold metal wall of the refrigerator.

  Alec and Janelle were dating. They were here as a couple. She’d always had a soft spot for him—even at the safe house when she was angry with him, I could see it. I wondered how long they’d been together. If he kissed her the same way he kissed me. If she fell to pieces in his arms when they fucked.

  I wondered if he loved her.

  I pushed down on my stomach, trying to stop it from twisting.

  Two and a half months ago he’d been mine. Mine. And I’d let him go. Of course he had moved on. He needed someone who understood the pressures of the trial, who wasn’t afraid of his dark side. He was too gorgeous and too sexy to be alone. I wondered how long after I’d left it had been before Janelle had swept in. Maybe she’d been there to comfort him after we’d broken up. Hell, he’d been working with her while he was still in prison. Maybe he’d wanted her the whole time.

  It wasn’t until now that I realized I’d been holding out hope that we might someday find each other again.

  I pushed myself back up the wall. Fuck Janelle. And fuck Alec. And fuck me for throwing such a pity party. I was Anna goddamn Rossi. I’d lived through a kidnapping and attempted murder. I’d survived the drugs that had killed my first mom, and the cancer that had taken my second. I would survive Alec Flynn.

  I turned around the corner, prepared to find Marcos and get completely wasted on free champagne, and ran straight into Alec’s hard chest.

  “Jesus Christ!” I stumbled back, and he caught my arm as I teetered on my heels. Warmth from his touch shot up through my shoulder, through my whole chest, and I jerked back.

  His hand fell away slowly, but not before I saw the thin white scar tissue that surrounded his wrist. That night on the bridge Reznik had cuffed us both. I remembered now how he’d struggled against the restraints. His wrists had been bloody and bruised when they were finally removed.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  I was trapped between the cold door of the freezer and Alec’s hot body. His scent floated around me, that dark, spicy musk that conjured images of naked bodies sliding against each other in the night.

  “Back up,” I said. And when he hesitated, I added, “Please.”

  He took a step back. The world, which had gone fuzzy with him so close, slid back into focus, but the tension remained. It sizzled through the air, had me rocking back onto my toes to get closer.

  “What do you want?” I asked, my eyes finding that stupid tie around his neck again. Why was he wearing it anyway? He probably didn’t even remember what we’d done with it.

  He leaned back against a clean, metal table, gripping the edge behind him until his knuckles turned white. His broad shoulders hunched, and in response, mine did, too.

  “You took off pretty quick back there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He’s always going to care about you, Mike had said. I thought of Amy’s sudden interest in my love life after all these months. It all made sense now. They wanted me to move on because Alec already had.

  It occurred to me Amy may have known Alec was dating Janelle when she’d seen him, months ago.

  I would deal with that later.

  I straightened, lifted my chin. He had a world of secrets tucked away. I could see them, right behind his eyes, and yet here he was trying to get me to bare my soul.

  “I’m fine.” I glanced around. The waitstaff was all busy on the other side of the kitchen, preparing more hors d’oeuvres for the guests. “Just hungry. Kitchen seemed like the appropriate place.”

  He gave a small smile. “I saw you called last night. I was . . . on the other line.”

  “Oh.” I waved my hand, overjoyed that there was no apparent end to tonight’s humiliation. “It was an accident.”

  He nodded. “I called you back. Your phone was off.”

  “You did?” I clenched my fists, irritated at how eager I sounded.

  He pushed off the table, came a step closer. I bit the inside of my
cheek. His fingers were twitching against his thigh. I wanted them on my waist, sliding around to my back and then lowering. His jaw flexed, as if he was in physical pain.

  Silence.

  I tucked my hair behind my ear, wishing I had a rubber band, or even a chopstick, so that I could knot it out of my face. I had to show him I wasn’t some poor sad puppy.

  He leaned closer.

  “You look . . .” He laughed dryly. “Christ. You know.”

  I closed my eyes. Why did he have to say that stuff? He shouldn’t have been. He was here with someone else.

  “Janelle, huh?”

  He cleared his throat. Looked at the floor. “It’s complicated.”

  No, we were complicated. I refused to believe they’d been through anything like what we had.

  “Do you love her?” I asked.

  I could hear him breathing.

  “Don’t ask me that,” he said. “You know the answer already.”

  It felt like I’d run full force into a brick wall. Every part of me hurt.

  “I called to tell you you’re doing the right thing with the trial.” I forced myself to look up at him, at his perfect mouth that I used to kiss whenever I wanted. “Don’t give up.”

  Before I could say more, I skirted past him, and made for the door. I didn’t hear if he followed.

  It didn’t take long to find Marcos, and he didn’t ask questions when I told him I wasn’t feeling well. He told me in the car he’d seen Janelle, but even if he knew she’d brought a date, he didn’t mention it.

  Twice, he tried to convince me to stay out with him. We could go get drunk. We could rent bad horror movies and go back to his place. I told him I was tired.

  He walked me to the door, and waited until I was inside to leave. Luckily, my dad was already asleep, so I didn’t have to face the questions about what had happened or what I was about to do. As soon as I saw Marcos’s lights disappear down the street, I grabbed my keys and headed back downstairs.

  It was pain that guided me to that bar. Pain that had me freshening up my lipstick in the rearview mirror when I got there. I had a picture message from Amy of Paisley and Chloe dressed like farmers. She’d asked for a selfie of me in my dress, but I didn’t respond.

  Alec and I were over. Whatever was left inside of me that still clung to him needed to be severed. Tonight.

  I barely looked as I crossed the parking lot. A white car nearly hit me, and though I waved a halfhearted apology, I couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows. A couple standing outside asked if I was all right, and I smiled and said something about needing a drink. I went straight to the bar and sat down, and when the bartender asked what he could get me, I said a Long Island iced tea.

  I swiveled on the bar seat, staring blankly at the fancy bottles on the mirrored shelf straight ahead of me. It was the first time I didn’t feel uncomfortable sitting alone.

  I didn’t feel anything.

  It wasn’t long before a man took the seat next to me. He was a little younger, and had a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his starched white shirt. A star, or a spiderweb or something. No ring on his finger, no tan line there either. He had intense green eyes and a nice body, and when he placed his hand on my thigh I realized I couldn’t do this.

  “I need to go,” I said.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “My bad,” he said. “Sometimes I can come on too strong. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.”

  I should have gone. I should have stood up right then and walked out.

  Just one drink, I told myself.

  That was the last thing I remembered.

  Six

  “Ma’am.”

  My head felt like someone had hit it with a hammer. No, more like it was a hammer, and I’d been pounding it against a wall for the last twenty to thirty years. My body didn’t feel much better. Every part of me ached. I felt like I had the flu. I must have caught what my dad had.

  “Ma’am.” The male voice broke through the ringing in my ears, more insistent this time.

  I blinked. Too much light. God. I either had the flu or the worst hangover in the history of the world. How much had I had to drink? I couldn’t even remember.

  “What should I do?” he asked.

  He could leave me alone for starters.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?” This time it was a woman speaking.

  My hip hurt. And I was freezing. I blinked again. I was so drowsy I could barely keep my eyes open. My fingers spread over the ground, rising up and down the rough bumps in the asphalt.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I was so tired I almost didn’t care.

  “Go away,” I muttered.

  “She’s homeless,” said the guy. What the hell was he talking about? Who was homeless?

  “She doesn’t look like it,” said the woman.

  Finally, I succeeded in opening my eyes. The sky was white, painted with thinly stretched clouds, and floating between it and me were two faces. A teenage boy with acne, and a heavyset woman with streaks of red in her hair. They were wearing uniforms. Beige button-up shirts and black pants.

  I shivered, and clutched my arms. My skin was damp and cold. I was only wearing this slinky dress—the same one I’d been in last night at the fund-raiser, only it was open in the back. The zipper must have fallen down.

  The wave of self-consciousness came with nausea, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as the bile clawed up my throat. Sweat broke out over my scalp as I choked it down. Something stank, and as I turned my head, I realized I was propped up against a Dumpster.

  My black dress was dirty and torn open in a slit that went from my knee down. My shoes were gone. I couldn’t find my purse.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice low. “Where am I?”

  The panic was swelling inside of me, making my head pound harder, my skin too hot.

  “What’s your name, honey?” the woman asked.

  “A-Anna.” I tried to stand but the nausea hit me again. I leaned over my knees and pressed my thumbs into my temples, trying to stop my brain from sloshing around like water.

  “Anna, we called your friend.”

  What friend? Marcos brought me home. I remembered that. But then I went out. I couldn’t even remember where.

  “How . . . Who are you?” I asked.

  “Better call the cops, too,” the woman said quietly to the guy, who ran inside the restaurant behind them. My eyes followed him, until they found the play place, separated from the outside by a wall of glass.

  What was I doing here?

  The fear hit me like a slap to the face, and I scrambled up.

  “Who are you?” My voice trembled.

  The woman held out her hands. “I’m Rose,” she said. “I work at the restaurant. One of the customers just came in and said they saw you lying here . . .”

  My head was spinning now.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “I just want to help.”

  She was lying. I told her as much. She was a liar. Something was seriously wrong here.

  “Where are my keys?” I asked. “Where’s my . . .” Car. I just needed to get in my car and go home. I looked up across the parking lot, but my electric blue Fiesta was nowhere to be seen.

  She touched my arm. I told her not to touch me. I was naked beneath this dress. I wasn’t even wearing a bra. I crossed my hands over my chest.

  “I need to go,” I told her. “Let me go.”

  Then I stumbled back against the cold metal Dumpster and everything went black.

  * * *

  The next hours were a blur. A cop came. And then an ambulance. The EMT gave me a blanket to put over my shoulders. He asked me my name, and what the day was, and who was president. I didn’t give him anything. I didn’t know him.
I didn’t know who had sent him. If he thought a blanket was enough to earn my trust he had another think coming.

  My head was killing me.

  They threw around words like shock and drugs and told me I was going to the hospital. I said that wasn’t going to happen. I’d answered their questions, I wanted to leave. They couldn’t hold me. I was the daughter of a cop; I knew my rights. Each one of them looked suspicious, and when they grabbed my arms and made me sit down on the gurney, I struggled.

  “Anna!” I honed in on the voice. It cracked something open in me and I began to cry. Big, hot, salty tears rolled down my face.

  “Anna?” Alec stopped in front of me. In a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans, he looked like he’d been the one to wake up beside a Dumpster. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were wild.

  They grew stone cold as they dropped to the rip in my dress.

  “Do you know this woman, sir?” asked one of the EMTs.

  He came close, blocking out the people behind him. One of his hands cradled my face, and I clung to it, and filled it with my tears. Alec was here. He was the one thing that made sense.

  “Yes,” said Alec. “I know her.”

  He never took his eyes off mine.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  His jaw twitched. “The kid that found you called me. He said you gave him my number.”

  I didn’t remember doing that. Then again, I couldn’t quite picture the kid who’d found me either.

  “She didn’t give a last name,” said the EMT.

  “She’s in shock,” said Alec. He looked angry. “She’s been missing for three days.”

  I pulled back.

  “No,” I said. “I saw you last night.”

  He didn’t argue.

  “Alec, what’s going on?”

  He sat beside me on the gurney. “We have to go to the hospital, all right?”

  I shook my head. The last time I’d gone to a hospital, they’d taken Alec away from me. He was here now, and I needed him to stay.

  “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he said.

  I believed him.

  He lifted me in his arms and carried me up the steps into the back of the ambulance. He whispered the whole time. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not leaving. Tucked in his embrace, I felt warm and safe, and for the first time since I’d woken, I was calm. I wanted to ask him what he’d meant by three days, but the world was going dim again.