Page 31 of Redamancy (Fated Fixation #2)

Chapter twenty-five

T he quiet that settles over me once I’m alone, trapped behind the steel metal bars of a precinct holding cell with ink-stained fingertips, feels strange.

It’s a welcome reprieve from the constant of panic the past thirty hours have conditioned my body into—but it’s also the unnatural hush before the storm. A moment of stillness before Adrian makes his next move.

He’s got me right where he wants me—isolated, out of options, and at his mercy. It’s only a matter of time before he swoops in to finish the game.

But I’m not worried.

I lean my head against the cold concrete wall, and I feel more clear-headed than I have in days.

Years, even.

Because I know what the game is now.

***

It can’t be more than a handful of hours I’m in the empty holding cell before a skittish, baby-faced officer in uniform comes to tell me I’ve got a visitor.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to have visitors, ” I say—but the only surprise is the timing. I thought for sure he’d wait until after my arraignment hearing in the morning.

The baby-faced cop’s gaze only flits to me, uncertain, before he unlocks the cell, the steel mesh barrier clangs open, and he scurries out of the empty cell block.

I don’t move.

It’s taken me a couple hours to find a seated position that’s even remotely comfortable—my back pressed into the uneven concrete, my legs stretched out on the cold steel bench, and my arms crossed to retain as much body heat as possible.

I hear the muted click of Adrian’s shoes against the concrete floors before I see them: brown calfskin loafers that gleam under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

They pause right by the entrance of my cell.

My heart thuds.

Even now, after all that’s happened, Adrian’s presence is about as easily ignored as a low-hanging thunderstorm over the Mobile Bay. It presses down on me, dense, suffocating, and charged with the electricity between us.

Don’t give him anything.

Slowly, and with more effort than I’d like to admit, I rake my gaze over him with the same bored disinterest I gave the cockroach scuttling across the cell’s broken sink.

He’s the picture of quiet, masculine eloquence in his pleated, charcoal gray slacks and snug navy sweater, his dark wool peacoat folded over his arms.

He’s also more suitably dressed for touring private vineyards at the Finger Lakes than he is for a reckoning in a jail cell.

Me, on the other hand…

I look like the before picture you’d use when pitching the efficacy of makeup remover wipes and shampoo.

There’s a layer of grease clinging to my scalp, the remnants of the eyeliner and mascara I applied for the art show still streaking down my face, and the sweat-slicked pajamas of a dead man’s ex-girlfriend stuck to my skin.

“You look like you’ve had an unfortunate morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I tense at the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls. “Well, evening now, I suppose.”

Our eyes lock, and my breath catches when I find nothing but triumph blazing in his. I haven’t even surrendered, but he’s clearly come here expecting a victory.

That—or he takes the sight of me, grimy, sleep-deprived, and officially catalogued into the federal database, as defeat enough.

I straighten my shoulders.

Yeah, fucking right.

My mouth twitches. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was unfortunate .”

A slight arch of his brow. “No?”

“No,” I shake my head. “In fact, I’d say it’s been very fortunate.

No access to technology and no way to escape…

it’s sort of like one of those digital detox retreats people pay thousands of dollars for—but free.

And without all the distracting, scenic views of the beach or the Grand Canyon.

” I glance toward the wall, where someone has drawn a surprisingly detailed anatomical penis with faded sharpie. “I mean, this is a view.”

There’s a beat of silence, and my skin itches with the weight of his dark eyes, before he quietly replies, “That is fortunate then.”

That’s right. Did you think you’d find me, distraught and blubbering like a child, ready to surrender to whatever fate you have in store for me?

“You want to know what the best part has been though?”

His stare presses down on me. “What’s that?”

“All this time I’ve had nothing to do but think.” I look back at him, my expression hardening. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve put most of the smaller pieces together now. It’s just the big picture I’m still a little confused about.”

The slow, satisfied smile that unfurls over his face reminds me of a cat licking its chops after devouring the mouse. Like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’ll tell you whatever you’d like, sweetheart.”

My eyes narrow.

Now you will.

Now that it’s all worked out exactly to your plan, I’m sure you’re more than happy to fill me in all the ways you’ve been ruining my life.

Some spiteful part of me almost wants to ask nothing —to ruin the clear climax he’s spent months, if not years, building towards.

But my own curiosity gets the better of me. “Alright,” I nod, straightening a little. “In that case, true or false? You bought my apartment building.”

He doesn’t so much as blink. “True.”

“And you’ve been keeping tabs on me for longer than the three months you’ve lived in New York City.”

“True.”

“Since the day I left Lionswood?” I ask, and Adrian offers me a curious head tilt.

“Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to, sweetheart? You read that file in my office. You know exactly how long I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he replies.

My head cocks to the side, mirroring his. “Because I want to hear you admit to it,” I say softly. “All of it. And I want the truth this time— only the truth.”

And I won’t let my doubt or my emotions or anything else stand in the way of my gut.

True or false—that’s all I need to hear.

His eyes soften by a marginal degree. “I have no reason to lie to you anymore, sweetheart. Whatever you wish to know, I’ll be honest. About everything.”

It’d be a sweeter sentiment if the obvious wasn’t implied: I have no reason to lie because I’ve already executed my plan.

Because I stand here, in the very same police station I framed you in, with no fear of consequences—from anyone.

My jaw ticks. “True or false? You planted that file in your office specifically for me to find.”

“True.” The corner of his mouth curls with unabashed shame. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist snooping through my things if you were left unsupervised.”

My eyes narrow. “You couldn’t have known I’d go snooping.”

He lifts a challenging brow. “Maybe not, but I knew you had an extensive history of being unable to mind your own business. Especially around my things. It was a fair assumption.”

I flush.

“I am a little offended you thought I was still dumb enough to recklessly leave sensitive information in an unlocked desk drawer,” he adds, a trace of amusement in his gaze. “As if I hadn’t learned my lesson the first two times.”

And I can’t believe I was dumb enough to think it wasn’t a trap.

But if it was left there for me to snoop through, and he knew I was lying to get away from him, then—

My stomach flips.

“You kept Tom’s name off the list intentionally,” I say. “Knowing that I’d panic and run straight to the one person flying under your radar.”

It’s the first time I see anything close to irritation light his eyes.

“I didn’t know, ” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice now. “But yes, I figured it was the most likely possibility.”

I swallow. “And LuAnne’s prescription pad—you stole that when I let you up to our apartment that day.”

“Steal seems like a strong choice of words,” he replies, ignoring my scoff. “To be fair,she’s the one who brought it home, without any sort of security or locked box. I seized the opportunity that was presented to me.”

Actually, you made it seem like I seized the opportunity and stole my best friend’s prescription pad for nefarious reasons.

A lump clogs my throat thinking of LuAnne and Joe. Surely, she knows by now —if not because Joe told her, then probably because Detective Dalton called to inquire more about the prescription pad.

So, that’s six years of friendship down the drain. She’ll assume I’m some killer con artist running a long scheme on her, and I won’t be able to provide a believable explanation to the contrary.

Sadness gathers inside me like storm clouds, but I shake off the feeling.

There’ll be plenty of time to sulk around and pity myself in prison, I’m sure.

I clear my throat. “And I’m guessing you planted the pills and the pad in my purse while I was snooping through your office.”

He nods. “True.”

I thought as much, but his confirmation makes my head spin. “And the pills? You would’ve had to break in while we’re sleeping just to even…”

“False,” Adrian shakes his head, looking mildly offended by the suggestion. “That would’ve been ridiculous. I didn’t break in.” An amused smirk tugs at his mouth. “Well, not really. ”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “Then…?”

He glances down—and chuckles. “He leaves his door unlocked.”

I shoot him a skeptical glance. “What?”

Adrian nods. “During the day. When he’s at work.”

I scoff. “There’s no way he’d—”

“Oh, I couldn’t believe it either,” he says. “Nobody living in a big city would ever be that trusting of people. That’s the sort of neighborly, small-town philosophy you’d probably only have in...where was he from again? Somewhere in the Midwest, right? Like Indiana? Illinois? Something with an I—”

“Iowa,” I breathe.

Another chuckle. “That’s right. Iowa. I’m sure I would’ve found a way in regardless, but…” He clicks his tongue. “That sort of daft, gullible thinking worked in my favor.”

My eyes narrow. “He was not daft. He just believed the best in people—”

“Same thing,” he rolls his eyes. “And look where that got him.”

I’m not sure what rattles me more. That Adrian speaks of the man he murdered in cold blood like he was a housefly he swatted away from his food, or that last part.

Look where that got him.