The police would know about her.
The police already did know about her. This way, they’d know where she was and that she no longer needed to be considered a missing person.
But the police would know about Roman, which was going to happen anyways. Roman wanted to set up legitimate businesses here. There’s no hiding if that’s the case. And myself, I guess they’d learn about who I was if they didn’t already know because I wasn’t leaving her side.
What Roman would be told after the meeting is that Marco decided to work with him after all.
I—I had my own plan to handle that, but we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
One of Roman’s guys came in. “They’re here.”
Roman nodded. “I want my men gone.” He glanced around the room, and as it’d been talked about before, Abram, Jake, and Cavers all left the room, too. They were here, they had met their boss above their boss, but they didn’t need the detective to see any more faces than what was needed.
We heard footsteps and a woman came in.
She was dressed in a suit. Slim. Sharp face. Sharp eyes, too. And a whole no-nonsense vibe to her.
She lingered on Roman, on me, but she went right to Ash.
“Hello.” She sat on a chair not far from Ash and took out a recorder. “I’m Detective Maronzetti. And your name is Ash…” She paused and glanced at us.
Another detective had come into the room, quieter, but he was there. She looked right at him, letting us know he was there. Not slim, a paunch on his stomach, and dressed in a suit. Balding head with the sides still trying to keep what hair was there. He also, which I found annoying, had smart eyes.
I didn’t know who Roman had asked to come, but these detectives weren’t the ones I’d hoped to get. In my life, you knew who would and who wouldn’t. Neither of these two did.
“No.”
Ash’s voice drew everyone’s attention back to her.
The feeling in the room changed, dipped, grew more somber.
I did not want to hear what she was going to say, but it was because once I heard, then I’d know what happened to her. I couldn’t take it away. I couldn’t kill anyone to make her feel better. The only recourse, literally the only recourse, was this.
“My name isn’t Ash, actually.”
“I don’t want you by me, when I tell them.”
“No.”
“Raize.” She sighed. She sounded so tired. “I have to do this on my own. I have to, for Brooke.” She started crying, but she’d been crying on and off since we left Montana. “I can’t explain it. I just can’t have you by me.”
“I’m in the same room. That’s not negotiable.”
“The police will know you—”
“It’s you, Ash. You!”
That was the conversation we had two days ago. I hated it then. I hated it even more now. But, I was in the room.
I was in the room.
Then she began speaking.
65
Ash
I started at the beginning.
“She was sick, you have to know that first.” My voice was shaky. Dammit. I couldn’t be like that, not for this. I liked the female detective. She was strong. I could feel that, but she was going to be soft with me. I hated that, but I needed that and I swear, she knew that, too.
She told me her name, but I wouldn’t remember it.
I wouldn’t remember anything about anyone in this room after tonight.
I’d only remember what I was about to say, and how it would destroy anything I might’ve had.
“Who was sick, Ash?”
I had a feeling no one else would speak, just her and me. I’m sure it’d been talked about on both sides. That was the precedent here today.
I just had to do this. I had to get it done. Just, fucking say the words. Get it over and done with.
Mom, I’m sorry…
“My mom.” My throat was clogged. “My mom was sick.”
We didn’t open the curtains. Mom never wanted them open.
“She—she took her life when we were in high school. Brooke and I. I—”
I couldn’t.
How could you do this?
How could you do what you did?
“I wanted you to have a friend, my sweet little girl.”
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
No words were coming to my throat. I couldn’t speak.
“Ash.” She started to scoot forward. She was going to touch my knee. And that touch would be kind, comforting. I could not have that.
“My name isn’t Ash,” I burst out. I was slowly leaving my body, but this—this had be to very clear. “I don’t know what my real name is.”
Now I had the room’s attention, but it wasn’t what they thought.
The detective frowned, and she started to look at her notes.
“I’m sure there’s a name on my birth certificate, but I have no idea what it says. You don’t understand. She—my mom… She was depressed. She was angry. She was irrational. She… she terrified me. She terrified everyone, but …” She was my mom. How could I explain that? “She wanted me to have a sister and, then one day, I had a sister. I know she wasn’t adopted, but my mom told me she was. She told Brooke she was. She wasn’t. And I know this because I saw her missing poster sitting next to our fireplace. My mom was starting a fire. The doorbell rang. She went to answer it, and I walked through the room. I saw the paper. She was going to burn it. It was Brooke. My sister. My mom—Her real name was Ashley Cruz and my mom kidnapped her.”