Page 47 of After All The Wreckage

Monte took a step away and wiped his face on a dirty sleeve. But he wouldn’t look at me, and that twisted my insides right back up. Was it shame? What the fuck had they done to him?

My hand went to his chin, pushing it up until he was forced to meet my gaze. I scoured his face for the truth. His eyes were enormous, fear still lingering there, but also guilt. His cheek was bruised and his hands were wrapped in gauze, but what really caused terror to grow inside me was the parts of him I couldn’t see. How bad was the damage?

“Monte…” I took a breath. Not wanting to ask, knowing that once the truth was spoken, I’d never be able to go back. But fuck, he’d lived it. I could at least hear it. I could at least be there to listen. “Did they…” My voice died away.

He shook his head. “No. I mean… they roughed me up a bit, but mostly because I wouldn’t stop fighting them. They told me if I stopped, no one would hurt me.”

Goose bumps littered my skin again. Thank God for small favors.

“Why are your hands wrapped? Where else are you hurt?”

“I think I might have a broken rib or two.” He lifted his shirt, and anger raged through me at the black-and-blue marks along his side. “My hands are fucked up because I was digging at the concrete of the basement trying to find a way out.”

Shit. He’d been alone. Afraid. Trying to find a way out.

I pulled him to me again. “You’re safe now. But we need to get you to the hospital.”

He pushed back. “I just want to get this over with.” He waved a hand at the room, and I realized for the first time we were in an interrogation room. Metal table screwed to the floor, heavy metal chairs, a two-way mirror, and a video camera rolling in the corner. What the fuck? They were interrogating him?

I stalked over and yanked at the half-propped open door. Detective Bradshaw was leaning up against the opposite wall. He stepped forward once he saw me.

“You’re interrogating him?” I demanded.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No. Not at all. We were just keeping him somewhere safe until we could get you here.”

I realized Rory wasn’t there with him, and my heart lurched. Ever since she’d shown up this morning, I’d felt like I wasn’t alone. Like somehow, I was stronger than I’d been before. The thought of her leaving now that we’d found Monte caused my gut to twist all over again.

Seeing me search for her, Bradshaw said, “Rory went down to the lab with one of my guys. She’s working on the video with them, seeing if we can enhance the license plate on the vehicle.”

I let go of another held breath.

The detective motioned to the room behind me, and I stepped back inside. He followed me in. Monte was sitting at the table, drinking from a supersized water bottle. Sandwich wrappers lay on the table, and for the first time, I was grateful for the detective. He’d at least fed him.

“My brother needs a hospital,” I said.

“We were taking him there, but he refused to go until you showed up.”

“I just want to get all this over with. Go home,” Monte said, wiping his face again. His sweatshirt was so filthy, it didn’t do anything but smear the dirt around.

The detective dropped into a seat on the opposite side of my brother, and I took the chair next to him.

“You came to D.C. to talk to someone on the Hill?”

Monte twisted one of the wrappers in his hand. “I wanted to talk to?—”

“Someone about the mass shootings and gun violence,” I cut in. I didn’t look at my brother. I kept my eyes on the detective. I couldn’t have Monte telling this man about his visions. If he did—even with the proof that he’d been kidnapped—they might just think it was all a big hoax.

The detective was a smart guy, so he knew I’d stopped my brother from saying something important. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he let it go as he asked, “Who’d you speak to?”

“Congressman Dunn,” Monte said. “And that guy who helps him. West?” He shrugged. “They didn’t really want to hear what I had to say.”

“But you stayed in town anyway?” Detective Bradshaw probed.

Monte shook his head, finger running along the table. “It was stupid…”

Guilt and shame seemed to bleed from him. I dragged his chair closer to me and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “It wasn’t stupid, Monte. You wanted to make a difference. That’s okay. But you should have trusted me to help you.”

Monte’s eyes turned wide. “I didn’t want you involved. Not after…” he trailed off, looking at the detective.