Page 16 of What’s Left of Me (What Left #1)

That stings more than I expect, so I just narrow my eyes and glance at Vinny. One of them is going to give me something. “How’s your sister? I hear through the grapevine that she attends the university down the road? Maybe we’ll be buddies sometime if she joins the psych program.”

“Wouldn’t get your hopes up,” he tells me dryly. “Echo thinks psychology is a load of shit.”

I snicker at that. There we are! Finally, some banter.

Jo clears her throat before speaking again. “A - Alastair,” she begins, tripping over my name, “tell us who you told about the kills. Let’s put an end to this.”

I wave a finger at her. “Sorry, Jo. Can’t do that. Can’t out someone I never spoke to.”

They look at each other again, and now I have the attention of everyone. The phones are supposed to keep our conversation private, but it isn’t lost to me that we’re the only ones in here right now and I can hear my voice echoing.

Vinny grunts. “What do you mean?”

There it is, the words burning on the tip of my tongue.

I could unravel all of my history and give every agent back there a stroke.

But it just isn’t the time. My truth, as Jo called it, will be revealed only when I’m certain it’ll suit me the most. “I didn’t tell a soul, lovebirds.

Who knew the details of the case before? ”

“Agents?” Jo says automatically, her brows scrunching together. “Cops?”

I shrug, leaning back in the chair. The cuffs click together when I point to my mouth, mirroring zipping and locking my lips with a shrug.

“Stop playing around,” Vinny barks. “What are you telling us?”

I grin. They care about me more in this moment than in fifteen years. “Can’t say for sure. I’m in a cell. And my copycat is going off book. You should look into the changes.”

Jo slaps her hand against the tabletop on her side and I grin wider. I love that spirit in her. “No! No games. We’re not looking at anything. Tell us the truth.”

“The truth only matters if there’s support to make it believable. Find the clues, you’ll see the truth.”

I don’t know if my theory is correct anyway.

I can guess all day who is out there killing people, but I know it’s not someone I’ve spoken to since lockup.

I don’t usually give this much away in a meeting, and I can see the other two agents sitting forward in their chairs as they listen.

Somehow, this conversation is being either recorded, projected, or both.

After all, my thoughts are only a theory. I need solid proof to back it up, and sharing that with the agents has no benefit to me at this point. I need a slam dunk to be convinced to share with them, and if I’m right it’ll change everything.

“But you’re crazy!” Fake Porscha screams, standing behind Sterling. She looks so out of place over there. “Crazy, crazy, crazy. A dreamer who makes no sense. Your thoughts are hopes not truth.”

Even my damn mind doesn’t want to be on my side about this.

“Then make it believable,” Vinny says, catching my attention again. He’s tilted his chin down, obscuring the tattoo across his throat, and one eyebrow arches up. “If it’s the truth, don’t you want someone to be on your side because of it?”

His words make me sink down in the seat.

It’s almost like being patronized, and that hasn’t had an effect on me in years.

But his gaze draws me in like it always did, daring me to defy his question.

I’ve long since stopped listening to anything Vinny or anyone else says, but the way his eyes darken the longer we glare at each other the further my mind drifts from here and now.

Vinny brings up different memories than his wife. I knew them both intimately for a few years, and our turbulent love story may have had a happier ending if things didn’t happen the way they did. We were all going to be happy together.

“Wherever you want to be, you’ll have me,” Vinny says, kissing Jo’s temple.

Her acceptance letter hangs on the fridge here, and we’ve ordered in enough food to feed us for the entire weekend.

The bottle that fell off the kitchen table sits in the sink, and we’ve all refilled our glasses to clink them loudly together.

“And me,” I say with a roll of my eyes, and they both laugh. Joelle slides her hand across my face, cupping my cheek as she takes a sip.

“You’re going to be okay leaving the sunny days behind for snow?” she jokes.

I shrug, and Vinny’s reassuring grip finds its way around my hand, lifting it until he can kiss my knuckles. It’s such a sharp contrast to see him soften to anyone, especially to someone like me. We’re so different, and I know that his father didn’t really teach love for all as a family motto.

“There’s nothing for me here,” I say softly, basking in the two of them. “My brother is already gone. There will be no one left to miss me.”

“Your listening skills are still shit,” Vinny growls, snapping me back to the present.

“You could say more,” Jo says, pressing her hand to the glass. My heart aches for the gesture, and I almost give in and press my hand to hers. It’s such an innocent move, but it makes me feel like she’s actually trying to reach out to me.

And we both know that’s a fucking lie.

“You both ran away,” I counter, looking between them. “Now you’re back to… what? Save face? Pretend you're the heroes in this story?”

“Well, we certainly aren’t the villains,” Vinny snaps.

“No,” I agree, sneering at them. “You are the heroes, but only to each other. In your perfect little bubble, no one else matters.”

“Is that what you think?” Jo asks, and I look back at her again. Her hand falls off the glass and she leans away. “That our world is perfect without you? Nothing is perfect Alastair, because you made sure there would always be something ugly lurking in the dark.”

Instead of getting mad, she looks sad. Disappointed even with the way that things are going now, and that makes me scoff. She’s gone from listening to pitying me in a matter of moments.

I don’t need her fucking pity.

“You don’t like seeing your handiwork?” I mock, speaking louder than I need to for her to hear me through the windows. “Are you proud to see what I’ve become?”

She bristles, shifting in her chair. The phone tilts away from Vinny for a moment, but his eyes never look away from me when she speaks. “Become? You’re exactly what you’ve always been - a monster in a cage.”

Growling, I slam my palm against the glass.

I already know it’s not going to do anything for me.

I’m on borrowed time now because a move like that is considered aggressive, so the guards are probably going to escort me back to my room in a second.

Vinny straightens, glaring at me, and Jo narrows her eyes.

“I’m exactly as I’ve always been, Joelle.

I’ve never pretended to be anything else. ”

People are moving around us. This phone call is over, and we’re going to part ways pissed off and hurt just like the last time.

Good. They have each other for support, and I’ll go back to being mad all by myself.

Then she speaks, and the hate I’m waiting for returns. “You’re right. You never were much of anything, and you turned out to be the biggest disappointment of all. Just like everyone expected.”

I hit the glass again, and Vinny stands before moving to drag Jo with him. She pushes him off and continues glaring at me, even as the agents behind them approach.

Jo is locked into this moment with me, reaching for the sleeves of her shirt as she glares.

She pulls at the material, revealing long, silvery lines.

It’s all that remains of the scars from a lifetime ago.

She’s not finished with me yet, her words crystal clear even as Vinny holds the phone so she can move however she wants.

“Did you think your art would last forever if you branded it across my skin? I remember you Alastair, every fucking memory of our lives in high school. I remember everything about you. I remember trusting you. And I remember caring about you. Even up to the moment you killed my mother.”

I grit my teeth, but my gaze is no longer focused on her face. I’m watching her arms, her skin, the way that the scars reflect in the light.

“That’s the legacy you leave behind,” she growls, and I still can’t be bothered to look away from her arms. “Butchering women. Maybe that’s something you're proud of, but when I look in the mirror the only parts of me that I hate are the parts that came from you. Art isn’t about destroying people, Alastair, it’s about the beauty hidden beneath. ”

That snaps me out of my daze. Her words ring in my head like a verbal punch to the gut.

They don’t understand it. And they can’t possibly see the picture she paints.

“Enough,” Sterling growls as he steps closer, his words cutting through what I want to say next. Vinny is one step ahead of him, slamming the phone down so I don’t get to talk to either of them anymore. I could scream, but it won’t do me any good.

“Constatine,” someone snaps, and I look away from the trio to face Wallsburg. “Hands on the glass.”

I snort. Now they think I’m a threat? I look back, glaring through the glass, and raise my voice so everyone can hear me. This part isn’t about Jo and Vinny. “Did you get the answers you wanted?”

Wallsburg roughly grasps my arms one at a time to cuff me, forcing my face against the glass as he twists my hands against the small of my back. He’s enjoying having a reason to push me around.

There’s Fake Porscha, smug as ever, and the apparition has the audacity to wave at me as she sits on this side of the glass, watching me slowly unravel.

A hand grips the back of my head, but I can’t see anything on the other side of the glass anymore. It doesn’t stop me from speaking though, my thoughts spiraling as I’m dragged away. “Don’t worry, Joelle! Like you said, no matter where you go, I’ll always be a part of you.”