32 HAYDEN

For the fourth time in less than two weeks, I found myself back at the police station. Miller had taken us there in her cruiser because I wasn’t in any state to drive. This night was turning out to be the mindfuck of a lifetime.

Tenley was with me when I identified Damen and Brett in two separate lineups. Brett was just as I remembered him, only older and haggard. He was short and already on the road to balding. His face was pockmarked. His teeth were fucked. But that’s what happened with an unchecked meth habit. It also made a person psychotic enough to rob a house with a stolen loaded weapon without checking to make sure the inhabitants weren’t home.

Damen didn’t look much better and it was impossible to feel bad for him. Though Brett had pulled the trigger, Damen had been the spoke in the wheel. He’d provided the drugs, he’d planted the idea, and he’d unwittingly supplied the weapon. But the part that was messing with me most was that I’d worked for him for years and never known. It was the ultimate duplicity.

As I sat in Miller’s office, I briefly wondered what had happened to Sienna. It would be karmic if Damen ratted her out. All her years of pushing drugs on her dancers until they were forced to solicit was criminal. What made it unconscionable was that she’d been through it. She knew what it was like to have no choices, yet still she screwed over the people who trusted her.

Miller’s partner, Duggan, was perched on the edge of her desk. He was calm and collected, but Miller looked just as antsy as I felt.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Duggan took a sip from his grungy mug.

“Water would be good, please.”

My throat was so dry, I was having a hard time swallowing. I was on the verge of panic; Tenley was the only thing keeping me together. She wanted to call Cassie and Nate on the way to the station, but I’d asked her to wait. It would have been too much like the first time I was here. I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for Cross to show up and interrogate me again. It turned out I didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Cross has been taken into custody,” Miller said, rearranging the pens on her desk until they formed a straight line.

I stared at her.

“I wanted to tell you earlier. I know how hard this has been on you—”

“Why?” I finally asked when the short between my brain and my mouth fixed itself. “Brett Wilson is Cross’s half brother. The abridged version is that he covered up the murder to protect him.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“That about sums up my reaction,” said Duggan.

Miller gave him a look.

I rubbed my temples, where the dull throb had instantly become a pounding roar. The revelation explained a lot and nothing at the same time.

“What’s the unabridged version?” I asked, uncertain if I could handle any more. I’d expected to feel relief in finding out the truth, but all it did was raise more questions.

“Brett was a troubled kid. He had some problems when he was younger, but because Cross was on the force, it afforded him some leeway. Brett turned eighteen two weeks before the homicide.”

“You mean before he murdered my parents?”

Tenley slipped her hand under mine. I squeezed.

“Are you sure you want me to go on?” At my nod, Miller continued, “Brett alleged he made two calls that night. The first was to Damen, the second to his brother. Around the same time, a call came through dispatch. Cross was the first to arrive on the scene. From what we understand, he either misfiled or tampered with the evidence, making most of it inadmissible. Some of the reports didn’t match up. At the time it looked like Cross’s partner had been the problem, but we know now that Cross had orchestrated it to look that way. The painting was the one thing he wasn’t able to dispose of. It was reported stolen. We believe he hid it with the intention of going back to dispose of it later. That didn’t happen, though. Lab reports confirm both his fingerprints and Brett’s were on it.”

It took me a minute to process it all as the pieces fell into place. “Cross couldn’t go after Damen, though, could he?”

“Not unless he wanted to implicate himself,” Duggan said.

“Are they going to jail?” I asked.

“There will be a trial,” Miller said.

“Will I have to testify?”

“Your testimony will be helpful to the case.”

Reliving it all over again would suck—but I didn’t want any of them to get less time than they deserved.

* * *

In late February the case went to trial. Things moved a lot faster than I expected them to, which was both a relief and a challenge.

Tenley adjusted my tie and smoothed the lapels of my suit jacket. “I think we’re ready.”

I hugged her hard. “Whatever you hear today, please remember all of this happened a long time ago.”

“And I want you to remember that whatever comes out during the trial isn’t going to change anything. I’m still going to be here, trying to remember not to leave my panties on the closet floor.”

I smiled into her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Never doubt that.” She took my hand and opened the door to the courtroom.

I could have sat through the whole trial and listened to Brett and Damen and Cross give their versions of events, but it wouldn’t change the outcome. The only thing I wanted at this point was justice, in the form of incarceration. It was the reason I was taking the stand.

My anxiety ratcheted up as we were escorted to the front of the room. I recognized a lot of faces: girls who worked at The Dollhouse and managed to move on, others who hadn’t. Some of Damen’s employees were among them, as well. They all sat together, united in their stand against the people who had wronged them.

Sienna sat in the second row on the opposite side of the courtroom. She was hard to miss in the orange jumpsuit. She looked pitifully fragile and small. The scar on her face was more noticeable without makeup. It was likely orchestrated to make people feel sorry for her. She looked at me when I passed, her regret obvious. Damen had knocked her off her pedestal and then some. Beyond being subpoenaed to testify for this case, she was also up on myriad other charges. No matter how much she plea-bargained, she would do time for her offenses. I almost felt sorry for her. In her own fucked-up way, she’d cared about me once, but she’d never been what I needed.

I was the only person to take the stand. Even though I’d been given an idea as to what I might be asked, the questions were still painful to answer. I kept my focus on the front row, where my family was. Cassie, Nate, Chris, Lisa, Jamie, and Sarah were all there, a wall of solidarity and support. In the middle was Tenley. She was the reason I got through it—because once it was over, I had someone worth moving on for.

I didn’t go back to the courtroom after that. There was no need. While the trial lasted weeks, the jury was quick to reach a verdict. All three of them got time behind bars.

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