The Confession (5 page)

I pushed myself back up the wall. Fuck Janelle. And fuck Alec. And fuck me for throwing such a pity party. I was Anna goddamn Rossi. I'd lived through a kidnapping and attempted murder. I'd survived the drugs that had killed my first mom, and the cancer that had taken my second. I would survive Alec Flynn.

I turned around the corner, prepared to find Marcos and get completely wasted on free champagne, and ran straight into Alec's hard chest.

“Jesus Christ!” I stumbled back, and he caught my arm as I teetered on my heels. Warmth from his touch shot up through my shoulder, through my whole chest, and I jerked back.

His hand fell away slowly, but not before I saw the thin white scar tissue that surrounded his wrist. That night on the bridge Reznik had cuffed us both. I remembered now how he'd struggled against the restraints. His wrists had been bloody and bruised when they were finally removed.

“You all right?” he asked.

I was trapped between the cold door of the freezer and Alec's hot body. His scent floated around me, that dark, spicy musk that conjured images of naked bodies sliding against each other in the night.

“Back up,” I said. And when he hesitated, I added, “Please.”

He took a step back. The world, which had gone fuzzy with him so close, slid back into focus, but the tension remained. It sizzled through the air, had me rocking back onto my toes to get closer.

“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes finding that stupid tie around his neck again. Why was he wearing it anyway? He probably didn't even remember what we'd done with it.

He leaned back against a clean, metal table, gripping the edge behind him until his knuckles turned white. His broad shoulders hunched, and in response, mine did, too.

“You took off pretty quick back there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He's always going to care about you,
Mike had said. I thought of Amy's sudden interest in my love life after all these months. It all made sense now. They wanted me to move on because Alec already had.

It occurred to me Amy may have known Alec was dating Janelle when she'd seen him, months ago.

I would deal with that later.

I straightened, lifted my chin. He had a world of secrets tucked away. I could see them, right behind his eyes, and yet here he was trying to get
me
to bare
my
soul.

“I'm fine.” I glanced around. The waitstaff was all busy on the other side of the kitchen, preparing more hors d'oeuvres for the guests. “Just hungry. Kitchen seemed like the appropriate place.”

He gave a small smile. “I saw you called last night. I was . . . on the other line.”

“Oh.” I waved my hand, overjoyed that there was no apparent end to tonight's humiliation. “It was an accident.”

He nodded. “I called you back. Your phone was off.”

“You did?” I clenched my fists, irritated at how eager I sounded.

He pushed off the table, came a step closer. I bit the inside of my cheek. His fingers were twitching against his thigh. I wanted them on my waist, sliding around to my back and then lowering. His jaw flexed, as if he was in physical pain.

Silence.

I tucked my hair behind my ear, wishing I had a rubber band, or even a chopstick, so that I could knot it out of my face. I had to show him I wasn't some poor sad puppy.

He leaned closer.

“You look . . .” He laughed dryly. “Christ. You know.”

I closed my eyes. Why did he have to say that stuff? He shouldn't have been. He was here with someone else.

“Janelle, huh?”

He cleared his throat. Looked at the floor. “It's complicated.”

No,
we
were complicated. I refused to believe they'd been through anything like what we had.

“Do you love her?” I asked.

I could hear him breathing.

“Don't ask me that,” he said. “You know the answer already.”

It felt like I'd run full force into a brick wall. Every part of me hurt.

“I called to tell you you're doing the right thing with the trial.” I forced myself to look up at him, at his perfect mouth that I used to kiss whenever I wanted. “Don't give up.”

Before I could say more, I skirted past him, and made for the door. I didn't hear if he followed.

It didn't take long to find Marcos, and he didn't ask questions when I told him I wasn't feeling well. He told me in the car he'd seen Janelle, but even if he knew she'd brought a date, he didn't mention it.

Twice, he tried to convince me to stay out with him. We could go get drunk. We could rent bad horror movies and go back to his place. I told him I was tired.

He walked me to the door, and waited until I was inside to leave. Luckily, my dad was already asleep, so I didn't have to face the questions about what had happened or what I was about to do. As soon as I saw Marcos's lights disappear down the street, I grabbed my keys and headed back downstairs.

It was pain that guided me to that bar. Pain that had me freshening up my lipstick in the rearview mirror when I got there. I had a picture message from Amy of Paisley and Chloe dressed like farmers. She'd asked for a selfie of me in my dress, but I didn't respond.

Alec and I were over. Whatever was left inside of me that still clung to him needed to be severed. Tonight.

I barely looked as I crossed the parking lot. A white car nearly hit me, and though I waved a halfhearted apology, I couldn't see the driver through the tinted windows. A couple standing outside asked if I was all right, and I smiled and said something about needing a drink. I went straight to the bar and sat down, and when the bartender asked what he could get me, I said a Long Island iced tea.

I swiveled on the bar seat, staring blankly at the fancy bottles on the mirrored shelf straight ahead of me. It was the first time I didn't feel uncomfortable sitting alone.

I didn't feel anything.

It wasn't long before a man took the seat next to me. He was a little younger, and had a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his starched white shirt. A star, or a spiderweb or something. No ring on his finger, no tan line there either. He had intense green eyes and a nice body, and when he placed his hand on my thigh I realized I couldn't do this.

“I need to go,” I said.

He raised his hands in surrender. “My bad,” he said. “Sometimes I can come on too strong. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.”

I should have gone. I should have stood up right then and walked out.

Just one drink,
I told myself.

That was the last thing I remembered.

“M
a'am.”

My head felt like someone had hit it with a hammer. No, more like it
was
a hammer, and I'd been pounding it against a wall for the last twenty to thirty years. My body didn't feel much better. Every part of me ached. I felt like I had the flu. I must have caught what my dad had.

“Ma'am.” The male voice broke through the ringing in my ears, more insistent this time.

I blinked. Too much light. God. I either had the flu or the worst hangover in the history of the world. How much had I had to drink? I couldn't even remember.

“What should I do?” he asked.

He could leave me alone for starters.

“Ma'am, can you hear me?” This time it was a woman speaking.

My hip hurt. And I was freezing. I blinked again. I was so drowsy I could barely keep my eyes open. My fingers spread over the ground, rising up and down the rough bumps in the asphalt.

Something wasn't right.

I was so tired I almost didn't care.

“Go away,” I muttered.

“She's homeless,” said the guy. What the hell was he talking about? Who was homeless?

“She doesn't look like it,” said the woman.

Finally, I succeeded in opening my eyes. The sky was white, painted with thinly stretched clouds, and floating between it and me were two faces. A teenage boy with acne, and a heavyset woman with streaks of red in her hair. They were wearing uniforms. Beige button-up shirts and black pants.

I shivered, and clutched my arms. My skin was damp and cold. I was only wearing this slinky dress—the same one I'd been in last night at the fund-raiser, only it was open in the back. The zipper must have fallen down.

The wave of self-consciousness came with nausea, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as the bile clawed up my throat. Sweat broke out over my scalp as I choked it down. Something stank, and as I turned my head, I realized I was propped up against a Dumpster.

My black dress was dirty and torn open in a slit that went from my knee down. My shoes were gone. I couldn't find my purse.

“What's going on?” I asked, my voice low. “Where am I?”

The panic was swelling inside of me, making my head pound harder, my skin too hot.

“What's your name, honey?” the woman asked.

“A-Anna.” I tried to stand but the nausea hit me again. I leaned over my knees and pressed my thumbs into my temples, trying to stop my brain from sloshing around like water.

“Anna, we called your friend.”

What friend? Marcos brought me home. I remembered that. But then I went out. I couldn't even remember where.

“How . . . Who are you?” I asked.

“Better call the cops, too,” the woman said quietly to the guy, who ran inside the restaurant behind them. My eyes followed him, until they found the play place, separated from the outside by a wall of glass.

What was I doing here?

The fear hit me like a slap to the face, and I scrambled up.

“Who are you?” My voice trembled.

The woman held out her hands. “I'm Rose,” she said. “I work at the restaurant. One of the customers just came in and said they saw you lying here . . .”

My head was spinning now.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I just want to help.”

She was lying. I told her as much. She was a liar. Something was seriously wrong here.

“Where are my keys?” I asked. “Where's my . . .”
Car.
I just needed to get in my car and go home. I looked up across the parking lot, but my electric blue Fiesta was nowhere to be seen.

She touched my arm. I told her not to touch me. I was naked beneath this dress. I wasn't even wearing a bra. I crossed my hands over my chest.

“I need to go,” I told her. “Let me go.”

Then I stumbled back against the cold metal Dumpster and everything went black.

*   *   *

The next hours were a blur. A cop came. And then an ambulance. The EMT gave me a blanket to put over my shoulders. He asked me my name, and what the day was, and who was president. I didn't give him anything. I didn't know him. I didn't know who had sent him. If he thought a blanket was enough to earn my trust he had another think coming.

My head was killing me.

They threw around words like
shock
and
drugs
and told me I was going to the hospital. I said that wasn't going to happen. I'd answered their questions, I wanted to leave. They couldn't hold me. I was the daughter of a cop; I knew my rights. Each one of them looked suspicious, and when they grabbed my arms and made me sit down on the gurney, I struggled.

“Anna!” I honed in on the voice. It cracked something open in me and I began to cry. Big, hot, salty tears rolled down my face.

“Anna?” Alec stopped in front of me. In a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans, he looked like he'd been the one to wake up beside a Dumpster. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were wild.

They grew stone cold as they dropped to the rip in my dress.

“Do you know this woman, sir?” asked one of the EMTs.

He came close, blocking out the people behind him. One of his hands cradled my face, and I clung to it, and filled it with my tears. Alec was here. He was the one thing that made sense.

“Yes,” said Alec. “I know her.”

He never took his eyes off mine.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

His jaw twitched. “The kid that found you called me. He said you gave him my number.”

I didn't remember doing that. Then again, I couldn't quite picture the kid who'd found me either.

“She didn't give a last name,” said the EMT.

“She's in shock,” said Alec. He looked angry. “She's been missing for three days.”

I pulled back.

“No,” I said. “I saw you last night.”

He didn't argue.

“Alec, what's going on?”

He sat beside me on the gurney. “We have to go to the hospital, all right?”

I shook my head. The last time I'd gone to a hospital, they'd taken Alec away from me. He was here now, and I needed him to stay.

“It'll be okay, sweetheart,” he said.

I believed him.

He lifted me in his arms and carried me up the steps into the back of the ambulance. He whispered the whole time.
It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not leaving.
Tucked in his embrace, I felt warm and safe, and for the first time since I'd woken, I was calm. I wanted to ask him what he'd meant by three days, but the world was going dim again.

I closed my eyes.

*   *   *

I woke in a small room with peach walls and furniture that looked like it had been covered by plastic picnic tablecloths. A steady, high-pitched beep came from a monitor to my right. The bed I laid on had metal railings and made crinkling sounds when I moved. There was an IV sticking out of my right arm, and I was wearing a thin hospital gown and scratchy underwear.

My head ached, but not like before. My body was sore, but not unmovable. I pushed the blanket back and stared at my bare legs. Apart from a couple of bruises, they looked all right. My arms felt fine. My body was all accounted for.

But something had happened to me. I knew something had, I just didn't know what.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped through the threshold. Against the bright lights of the hallway, I could only see his silhouette, but I knew immediately who it was. Those broad shoulders and tall build. The mess of wavy hair. That familiar clench in my belly that happened every time he was close.

“Hey, you're awake.” He came beside the bed, the wariness now evident in his dark eyes. His hand reached for mine, but he pulled back at the last moment, like he was afraid I might break. Dread whipped across my rib cage.

I covered my legs.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck, remembering how safe I'd felt in his arms when he'd taken me in the ambulance. Now the strain from the fund-raiser was back between us, only multiplied by a thousand.

“Considerably less crazy,” I said. “Did I get in an accident or something? Everything's . . . cloudy.” I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Maybe I'd done something stupid.

“You look cold. Are you cold? I'll get a blanket.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're hungry though,” he said. “Let me go find you some food.”

He turned to go.

“Wait,” I said. “Tell me what's going on first.”

His posture was curtain-rod straight. “I don't know yet.”

My stomach had started to churn again.

“You said . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on his words drifting across my mind. “You said I'd been gone for three days.”

When I opened my eyes again he was staring at the wall.

“Look at me,” I murmured.

Slowly, he turned, and when his gaze found mine, I nearly broke down. There was so much grief there, I didn't know how it hadn't knocked him to his knees.

“Anna, it's Monday,” he said.

Monday. The fund-raiser was Friday. I'd lost track of a full weekend? That didn't make sense.

“That's not possible,” I said.

He gripped the bed railing, staring at it as if he might bend it just with the strength of his hands.

“I didn't drink
that
much,” I said. But I couldn't say for certain if that was true. My frown deepened.

I was suddenly struck by the thought that something was wrong with me. Really wrong, like the cancer that had taken my mom. When she was nearing the end, she lost time, too, although that was mostly due to the pain medication. Maybe there was something messed up in my brain. A tumor, or . . .

“Hey,” said Alec softly. He still didn't touch me. What I would have given for him just to hold my hand.

He belonged to someone else, though. Or maybe they were just friends with benefits. It was
complicated
. That much I could remember.

“I talked to your dad and Amy after we got here. They're on their way.”

“I'm sure my dad's called in the cavalry,” I said, voice shaking, trying to smile. “I'm surprised he isn't already here.”

Alec got that look on his face again.

“We're outside Orlando,” he said. “I was already out looking for you when the kid at the fast-food place called. It's going to take everyone else a little while to get here.”

“Orlando?” I shook my head. This sure didn't feel like the happiest place on earth. “What the hell happened?”

“You're going to be okay,” he said, avoiding the question. “You were dehydrated. You need to eat something. Everything else . . .” He released the bed and took a step back. “What's the last thing you remember?”

He looked desperate, and that scared me half to death.

I closed my eyes, concentrated. “The fund-raiser. We talked in the kitchen. I remember Marcos taking me home. I . . . I went out after that.” I laughed dryly. “I don't even remember where. That place on Himes, I think.”

“Anna?” Amy burst through the door, followed by a nurse. She was still dressed in her work attire, even with the black, hip-length smock lined by silver hair clips.

“Ma'am, you need to sign in!”

“Jesus jumped-up Christ, where have you been?” She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into her arms like I was a rag doll. “I thought you were dead, you know that?”

“I'm not dead,” I said lamely.

The nurse, an older woman with kind blue eyes, looked at me for approval of Amy's presence, and I nodded.

Amy pulled back and looked at my face. “You don't remember anything? Alec said on the phone that you have amnesia or something.”

“Amy.” Alec motioned for her to step away while the nurse began checking my blood pressure with cold hands and asking me questions about my pain level. I tried to listen to what Alec was telling Amy, but he was speaking too quietly. It didn't matter; their body language was enough to tell me it was bad news. Amy sagged, and turned away, and Alec stared at the floor.

When Amy turned back, she was all smiles and red, tear-filled eyes.

“All right,” she said. “Let's eat something, huh?”

“Actually, if it's all right, now might be a good time for us to talk,” said the nurse. She sat on the bed beside me and patted my hand. “Why don't your friends give us a minute?”

“No.” My voice cracked. Maybe she was nice, maybe she was freaking Mother Theresa, but I didn't want to be alone with anyone I didn't know.

The nurse stroked my forearm. “Okay. That works.” The bed's plastic sheets crackled as I sat up. She gave me a Time to Be Brave smile, which of course made me feel exactly the opposite.

I willed her to talk fast. Bad news always was better swallowed fast, and she was taking her sweet time about sharing.

“While you were resting we did some blood work. You've tested positive for Rohypnol, do you know what that is?”

The world seemed to slow, then ease to a stop.

My first thought: Thank God I don't have a brain tumor.

My second thought: Oh shit.

Rohypnol. It had been a long time since I'd heard of the drug, but it wasn't foreign to me. My dad had included it as part of his birds and bees talk when I turned thirteen.

Cops could go a little overboard sometimes.

Amy came around to my other side and grabbed my other hand. She was trying not to cry—her lip was quivering.
If you cry, I'm going to kill you,
I wanted to tell her. One of us needed to keep it together.

The nurse went on to explain. It felt like she was speaking to me from the end of a long tunnel.

Rohypnol. Roofies. The date rape drug.

Rape.

I jerked up in my bed. No. That wasn't possible. I felt fine. I hadn't been raped.