Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Rus lifted his chin to him, then Dickerson continued following orders and guided Rus to Moran’s office.
The deputy knocked twice and waited until they heard Moran call out for them to come in.
“Special Agent Lazarus is here,” Dickerson announced. There was a grandiosity to it Rus wasn’t thrilled about, but he saw there was a reason for it when he walked in.
She was curved into herself sitting between Polly and Moran at Moran’s small round conference table.
She wasn’t this way because something had happened. Or at least not recently.
That posture was habit.
Making herself small. Not earning anyone’s attention.
She wore an oversized hoodie, no makeup, hair a mousy-brown and pulled back in a ponytail.
She glanced up at him as he walked in and Dickerson closed the door behind him, but she didn’t make eye contact and immediately aimed her gaze back to the table in front of her.
He did not like this.
“Rus, glad you’re here,” Moran said, friendly, familiar, we’re-all-buds here, but his voice was careful, modulated and quiet. “I want to introduce you to Shannon. She’s come forward to share something about Ezra Corbin.”
“Hi, Shannon,” Rus said, slowly pulling out the only remaining chair, and with equally slow movements, folding his body into it.
Shannon didn’t return his greeting.
Rus exchanged a look with Polly. She was hiding being pissed under a thick layer of compassion that was genuine, but she was still ticked.
He wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Shannon gave us a little of her story, but we asked her to wait to tell us all of it,” Moran explained. “We told her we needed you here to listen in too, and we didn’t want her to have to share it twice.”
Fucking shit.
Not good.
“Right, okay, now I’m here,” Rus said slowly. “Shannon, before we start, do you need anything?”
She had an Aromacabana takeaway cup in front of her, he knew, because he’d noted someone there tended to get creative with markers, so all of the cups he’d seen had pictures drawn on them.
Shannon’s was no exception.
However, she wasn’t touching it.
“No, I’m good,” she mumbled to the table.
“Do we need to hurry?” he asked. “Do you have to get back to work?”
“No. Worked this weekend. Today’s my day off,” she answered.
“All right,” Rus said.
He then said nothing else.
She didn’t either.
They gave her time.
Eventually, Moran prompted, “Start whenever you’re ready.”
She pulled in a visible breath, slumped back in her chair, curled even deeper into herself, put her hand on the table and drew a mindless pattern with the tip of a finger, her nail having once been painted a deep blue, but now it was chipped and the polish was nearly all gone.
“Okay, so, like, years ago, I was raped.”
Taking her in, years ago would mean, his guess, she was fourteen, fifteen, maybe younger, maybe a bit older, since she couldn’t be much more than eighteen right now.
Yes, this was not good.
Rus felt his skin get tight.
“Like, more than once. Like, a lot. Like, by the same guy, the guy I had a crush on in high school, and, um…all his buds.”
Rus clenched his teeth, sliding his eyes to Polly, whose face was bright pink, then to Moran, who’s lips were thin.
Rus got a lock on it.
“Okay,” he said gently.
She rolled her head on her neck. It was an exaggerated movement, but still real, releasing tension, preparing.
They were disappearing for her, she was placing herself not in that room, but in a world all to herself. She had to so she could tell what she was going to tell.
“So, you know, that’s what I knew, of, like…sex. Because the first time they did it was my first time. And then they kept doing it. So, eventually, they got tired of me, and it was over. But then I got a boyfriend who was real, I mean, not like them, and we couldn’t, like, he didn’t, you know, we tried things, and it didn’t…work.”
Rus said nothing.
Polly and Moran did the same.
“I mean, unless, you know, he…you know, I told him what I might like, and it weirded him out.”
Rus wasn’t sure he was following.
Or, more aptly, he was, he just wished he wasn’t.
“So, he dumped me,” she continued. “And one of my friends hooked me up with a new guy. She said he was perfect for me. We would click. And I liked him loads. But it was the same thing.”
A breath and a moment as she remembered losing a guy she liked.
And, “Then he goes off and tells her what it was because they’re friends. And she has a big mouth, so she told another one of our friends. Then that friend comes to me and says she’s heard, like, there were people who would, you know…like, do things for you. And I should…maybe…just try it out to see if that’s what the deal is with me. She’s pretty cool, and has it together, and she was really mad all the earlier stuff happened. But when she told me what I could do, I got kinda excited.”