Chapter Nineteen
Lexi jumped when the door of the interrogation room swung open, her pulse galloping as her body seized up. She was on edge. No, worse than on edge. She was on the verge of completely falling into a stress-induced blackout. They were rare, but they happened, and it terrified her.
Pity flashed across Kaytee's face. Lex knew it well since everyone seemed to be so damn good at feeling sorry for her.
"It's just me, Lexi," she assured her. "You're okay."
Lex gripped the edges of the chair as tightly as she could. "Sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for," said Kaytee.
She sat down across from Lexi, folding her hands. She held no pen, no paper. This didn't feel like a formal interview to Lex. It was more like a conversation, and she wasn't sure what to make of that. It was a new tactic, an unfamiliar situation to navigate. Lexi knew the ins and outs of questioning, from good cop to bad cop moves. She didn't know what this counted as, or even how she should go about it.
"Can I get you something?" Kaytee asked. "Coffee? Water?"
Lexi shook her head. When she bit down on the ragged skin inside her cheek, she tasted the coppery flavor of blood. There was a numbness that settled over her, and physical pain was the only thing she was capable of processing.
"You've had a long night," Kaytee pointed out. "I know this is hard and this is probably the last place you want to be right now. If we want this to go well, I need you to be totally honest. There's no judgment. I just need the truth."
"The truth?" Lexi echoed. "What if I don't know the truth?"
She thought back to the blackout, to waking up in the bar with no recollection of driving there. She was out of control, dazed, and left to pick up the scraps of her consciousness. Kaytee could pretend she was on her side, but Lexi knew alliances here were fickle.
How could she lie? How could she ever lie if half the time she didn't even know what was going on?
Lexi was tired of pretending, though. She didn't have the energy to think up an excuse. She didn't deserve to get away with something awful. Even at the expense of her own comfort, she was willing to do what she had to. For Quinton.
Thinking his name sent a pang through her chest.
Her chin quivered, and she fought the tears.
"Can you take me through everything you did yesterday?" Kaytee prodded. "Anything you can remember will help us. Take your time and walk me through it."
Kaytee was patient, almost condescending in the way she spoke. Lexi felt like a child, but it was fitting. She was behaving like one. She didn't take offense because of that.
Lexi mumbled at first, afraid that a higher volume might make her burst. "Well, we had breakfast together. Quinton made us Pop-Tarts after Aunt Delaney burned the eggs so bad we couldn't eat them. He went to class and Dad drove Delaney to the airport."
"Where was she going?"
"Georgia. It's for a work thing. She goes annually," Lexi explained. "I spent the day doing chores and I went to sleep. That's all."
She cut herself short. It was so obvious, like a scarlet letter.
Kaytee raised a brow. "Is it? Lexi, do you remember what I said about honesty? There's nothing you can't say here."
"What are you? A therapist?" Lexi snapped.
"I almost was," Kaytee said, unfazed by Lex's sharp tone. "I joined the FBI instead."
Lexi glanced away, ashamed of herself. "I blacked out again last night."
Kaytee said nothing, silently encouraging her to continue.
"I was at this bar when I came to my senses. I guess I'd been there a while, but I dunno how I got there. It's gone. All of it is gone. There's not even a hazy memory. I have no idea what happened after I fell asleep," Lexi whispered, grimacing. "And that's not even the worst part. I got this weird phone call from an unknown number. I don't know who it is, but they knew me..."
Kaytee had hardened, obviously knowing something was wrong. "Did the caller threaten you, Lexi?"
"Not me, not really," Lexi said. "I think it was her. The woman you guys are looking for got my number. She was angry. She thought I was trying to take credit for the killing like I would do something like that. She wanted me to pick someone to die."
"Did you recognize her voice?"
Lexi's head darted back and forth. "No. She messed with it. It scrambled the sound. I could barely tell what she was saying."
Kaytee chewed her lip. "You said she asked you to choose her next victim?"
Lexi began to shut down, her cheeks flushing. She gulped.
"Did she ever use any names?"
"No," Lexi said. "I wouldn't choose. I didn't think I was choosing."
"This isn't your fault," Kaytee told her, even if Lexi didn't believe it. "We're dealing with a very sophisticated criminal. She's good at manipulating people, and she was going to make her own choices regardless of what you said or did."
Lexi tried to shake away the images of Quinton's body, draped across the sofa. She would be haunted for the rest of her life. She knew that. "I found him. I got home and she'd already done it. He died alone in the living room and none of us knew until it was too late."
Kaytee was obviously unsure of what to say.
"Can we talk about something else?" Lexi practically begged. "Anything else?"
The other woman's chin bobbed up and down. "Yeah, yeah we can. Thank you for sharing all of this with me. It was very brave. We don't have to keep going if you don't want to."
"Really?"
"Yes," Kaytee said. "I have one favor to ask and then you're free to go."
"Okay."
"Can I have your cell phone? We're gonna have to trace that call."
Lexi withdrew it from the pocket of her jeans and passed it over. "Take it. It's all yours."
Kaytee slid it into her blazer, out of sight and out of mind. "Lexi, do you know where your aunt is right now?"
"No," Lexi said, at a loss. "Why?"
"We'll need to bring her in," Kaytee said. "It's standard procedure."
Lexi had a feeling there was more to it than that, but she knew asking wouldn't get her anywhere. If there was anything the FBI was better at than figuring things out, it was keeping secrets under lock and key.
"There's a nice hotel near here," Kaytee said, changing the subject. "It might be a good idea for your family to stay out of the house for a bit. Plus, we need to keep you close, just in case something comes up and we need your help."
"I'll talk to my mom," Lexi said, peeking at the one-way glass that divided them and the outside of the room. All she saw was their reflection, the two of them at the table, locked in a small box of a space.
"They can see us," Kaytee informed her. "We can't see out, but they can see in on the other side."
"I figured as much," Lexi said. "Is anyone watching now?"
"I don't know," Kaytee admitted. "But if someone is, we have nothing to worry about. You didn't do anything wrong. It's alright."
Lexi paused. "Do I have to stay here?"
She'd been stuck inside one of these rooms for too long before, and the whole thing brought back horrible memories of the things that happened to her before. She didn't want to feel trapped again, like a prisoner. Not until she was proven guilty.
"No," Kaytee responded. "Come on. Let's get you out."
Kaytee offered her a hand, and Lexi took it hesitantly. The agent squeezed reassuringly and opened the door for them to enter the hallway.
Nolan's eyes fell to Kaytee first, then Lexi. He was standing beside a tall, Asian man, who smiled at them. Lexi couldn't bring herself to return it.
She felt so small, so fragile. She glanced at Kaytee. "Can I have that coffee now?"
"Of course!" Kaytee said brightly. "We'll be right back."
Lexi was surprised Kaytee knew how to navigate the maze of the FBI Field Office so well. Every hall and corridor was practically identical, enough to get her turned around if she wasn't careful.
Kaytee took her up the stairs instead of using the elevator, and Lexi was glad. She liked the space, even if it required walking up a few floors.
"This is us," Kaytee said, as she led her through the glass doors marked Violent Crimes Task Force.
Lexi studied the room, taking in all of the desks and empty chairs. This was where they came to work each day, picking apart her story, her family, every detail they could find to forward the investigation. She tried to picture which agent sat at each specific place, but it was hard because she didn't know them at all.
Kaytee started the espresso machine sitting on the counter in the kitchenette. Lexi watched as she reached for a carton of cream in the fridge and some sugar packets. Her mother would scold her for not offering any help, but Kaytee was faring just fine without it.
"Thank you," Lexi said. "For everything."
"It's no trouble at all," said Kaytee, dimples indenting her cheeks. "I'm just doing my job."
Lexi knew Kaytee was minimizing her own impact. It was her job to get answers, not to treat Lexi to coffee and be friendly. That was all Kaytee. It felt strange to know she was technically "Agent Carlisle" because it didn't fit her.
Kaytee pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows and held the milk over the mug. "Say when."
"When," Lexi called out when her coffee reached a soft brown hue.
Kaytee passed her the drink and poured herself one. Lexi tried to pretend some of the other agents weren't staring at them as they stood there. Lexi, in pajamas, looking like a mess. Kaytee, studious and professional.
"They're interns," Kaytee said, explaining them away. "Ignore it."
Lexi tapped her nails against the side of the ceramic cup, trying to ease her nerves. "Does it ever scare you? Knowing that anyone could die at any moment?"
Kaytee lifted a shoulder. "You know, it used to. I have to think about all the people we saved instead of all the people we didn't. If I think about the negative stuff, I won't be able to forgive myself. The way we view ourselves and the work really is a game-changer."
Lexi stared into the swirling coffee in her grip. "Have you ever lost someone you love?"
Kaytee's face pinched, the corners of her lips tightening. "As a matter of fact, I have."
"That was invasive, I don't know why I—"
"Lexi, it's okay," Kaytee said. "It caught me off guard, but you didn't offend me. My cousin died when I was in college. She had breast cancer. It's been a while since I've talked about it."
"How did you get through it?" Lexi asked.
"By taking baby steps to make myself whole again," Kaytee answered. "My instinct was to pretend she didn't exist. I tried to block out all of the memories, but the denial didn't help me. It's better to remember the good times and use those to help you get on with it. We always want a quick fix for grief, but it takes time. It's a sickness, but it's curable."
Lexi nodded. "I miss Quinton already. Every time I remember he's gone, I have trouble believing it."
"That's normal. It happens to all of us," Kaytee pointed out. "I know a thing or two about psychology."
Lexi didn't care what the statistics were or the formal studies declared. She didn't care about facts and figures that reduced her to a science. She was a human being, and it was hard not to feel like the only person who could ever feel the way she did.
Nolan knocked gently on the doorframe. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," Lexi murmured. "We're talking."
He walked in, reaching for her before he thought better of it and retreated. "How are you holding up, Lexi?"
"I'm fine," she said, even if it wasn't definite. "I'm managing, I guess."
He tucked his hands in his pockets. "Your parents are waiting for you in the lobby. You can head down whenever you want to."
"Noted," Lexi muttered.
She took a gulp of her coffee. It was scalding but she let it burn her. She needed to bring something into the coldness inside her bones. It was all she could do to feel like herself.
She drank it down with their watchful eyes on her. It was an assessment. Not a formal psychiatric evaluation, but a makeshift version. She wondered if she passed, if she could be viewed as stable.
"How do I get to the lobby?" Lexi questioned.
"First floor. The elevator is straight across the hall from the main entrance," Nolan told her. "Want us to come with you?"
"No," Lex said. "That's okay."
She found it easily. Thankfully, there was no one going down with her, and she was able to have one of her first moments alone over the course of the last few hours. It was suffocating, being close to constant interaction.
Her mom was watching her closely, making sure she never left her sight. It was expected. There was no way she could afford to lose another child. Her grief was insurmountable, sending every protective instinct into overdrive. She meant well, her mother did. It drove Lexi crazy all the same. She needed a breather, but she never could have it.
From the feds to her family, the elevator was her shot at peace.
Wiping her cheeks and gathering her composure, Lex held herself together. A low ping rang through the enclosed space before she was let out.
Her mother walked quickly, meeting her halfway. Lexi's nostrils filled with the perfume she knew so well. She wanted her mom to let go. The touch was upsetting her. She felt like she didn't deserve the comfort, not when Quinton couldn't have it.
"Hey, kiddo," her father said gently. "You ready to go to the hotel?"
Lexi lifted her chin. "I guess so. I could use some sleep."
"I think we all could," Dad agreed.
They all looked restless. The insomnia after Quinton's loss was taking a toll already, creating blue and purple bags under their eyes. If sleep was going to come, it wouldn't be easy. Lexi wasn't sure she could ever shut her mind off.
They were given a room on the seventh floor, one with two queen-sized beds and a simple set-up. The comforters were straightened, perfectly aligned. Quinton never made his bed. He would be messing this one up in seconds if he could. There was no way he'd ever want to keep things neat. If he were there, he would screw with the blankets instantly, kicking them up and off the mattress.
Lexi laid down close to the window, staying on top of the sheets as she toed off her shoes. When she inhaled, the air shook on the way to her lungs. She clutched the pillowcase and forced her eyes shut.
No crying. No crying. No crying.
It was a mantra she'd repeated since she was little. When Dennis used to touch her, she would tell herself not to cry. It was always worse when she got upset, so she would turn herself into a ragdoll and let her mind fade into the background. It was like an early form of a blackout, her way of shutting down before her body began to do it on its own.
This would be one of the only times she wanted to blackout. She never liked the episodes, but sometimes, life got to be too much, and the only way she could ever imagine making it stop was to lose all recollection.
But when she craved it most, it couldn't happen. No, that would make her affliction too convenient. It was too close to what was fair to fit her situation.
"I hired someone to clean the house," Dad whispered. "We won't have to... deal with it."
Mom said nothing.
"Did you hear me, dear?"
"Yes," Mom told him. "I don't care. I don't want to think about who is going to 'clean up' or violate our privacy. I don't want to think about any of that right now."
She got up, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her. She locked herself in, and Lexi imagined she would probably stay in the bathtub until the water went cold. Her mother liked baths to help her calm down. Lexi wondered if she should've locked herself away first. It seemed like a good idea, and she was jealous Mom beat her to it.
"Are you hungry?" Dad asked Lexi.
"No," she said, not even turning to face him.
"Are you sure? They have good breakfast options for room service," he continued.
"It's not a vacation, Dad," she snapped.
He surrendered, slumping down onto the bed next to hers. "I know it's not. I know that. I'm just trying to help."
She softened, but couldn't muster an apology.
"He was my boy," he told her. "My boy. I had both of you kids. You were perfect. I love you both so much and now I feel like I'm missing half of my heart. I don't know how to get it back."
Lexi felt her chest tighten at his words, and continued repeating the phrase over and over in her mind.
Don't cry. Don't cry.
By some miracle, she passed out, sleeping for what seemed like an endless slew of time. In her dreams, she wasn't occupied with thoughts of Quinton or unspeakable pain. She was lucky to not be cursed with any nightmares in her state. It was almost a gift, like the universe was handing her a small blessing as some form of mediocre compensation.
When she awoke, she didn't move. Her parents were both fast asleep a few feet away, and she wanted them to rest as long as possible. It wasn't her intention to disturb them, so she occupied herself by staring out the window at the traffic and blue sky ahead of her. Quinton never cared much for views. He thought it was silly that she could occupy herself just by looking out and thinking for a bit. Contemplative BS wasn't his thing, or so he would say as he teased her.
She hated that she was thinking about him. She never would have been obsessing over him in any other situation, but her life had changed so rapidly there was no way she could imagine doing anything else in her present time. She was a shell, right then, a shell withering away as she felt her world unraveling.
First, she was a suspect.
Now, she was a piece of the puzzle, a sister to a victim of a dangerous serial killer.
The hatred and anger began to twist and seethe inside of her, waiting to be released.