table, case file 092330200307. Just like in my vision, pictures of me beat to a pulp and … Gavin seemingly raising a hand to strike me.
I refused to look at her or the photos and stopped rocking.
“Don’t you want to know what happened to you, Miss Miller?” she asked in a soft voice, pushing the folder closer. She sounded almost compassionate.
“I already know what happened to me!” I shouted. “I was there, remember?” I couldn’t stop the tears that pushed their way out of my eyes in a race down my cheeks. Gavin and I were being set up. Couldn’t she tell? Wasn’t she trained in these things? I felt like an animal that had been tricked into leaving a small cage only to be locked in an even smaller one.
I lurched forward and tried to grab the folder, to rip it to shreds. Instead, I caught Officer Bladen’s sleeve and a tiny piece of her hand. She snatched it away as abruptly, as if I’d burned her. I fell back into my chair, hitting it harder than I’d intended.
Something was terribly wrong.
Officer Bladen shifted in her chair as she checked her watch, then cell phone, then pager. It was as if she were expecting the Governor’s pardon.
“Just tell us what happened, Ms. Miller,” she said and checked her watch again, then looked toward the open door.
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” I pushed away thoughts I couldn’t possibly share.
“You can trust us, Grace.”
“I’ll just wait for my mom, if that’s okay.”
I know what I am. Memories came flooding back, not all of them good.
Earlier, news had broken of the biggest story Peak, Missouri, had ever seen: the arrest of a rock star for unspeakable things. A statement from the alleged victim of Gavin Vault, lead singer of Venus Unearthed, would put our little town on the map even more so than when Mom’s Broadway career took off. Poor Officer Bladen was sent to babysit me. If successful in getting me to talk, she might finally make detective—the first female on the force to achieve that rank—and make her Army vet dad proud.
Sarah Bladen’s life flashed before my mind’s eye. Wow.
“It’s not gonna happen, your promotion,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Officer Bladen quickly scribbled “psych eval” on her little pad. I didn’t actually see the words. I just knew it, the same way I knew about the Auktionsverk auction house. News about her relationship with a married officer on the force was about to surface. But that scandal would have to wait until this one died down.
Officer Sarah Bladen sighed heavily. “When you’re ready to talk, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll go see if your mom’s here. We can’t seem to reach the Larsons.” She threw the newspaper she’d been holding on the table in front of me and left the room. I grabbed it before it hit the tabletop microphone. I flipped the paper around to find Gavin’s photo under the headline:
ROCK STAR ARRESTED IN DISAPPEARANCE OF MISSING PEAK GIRL
Gavin Vault, lead singer of Venus Unearthed, was arrested on Christmas Day for the kidnapping and attempted assault of Grace Miller, daughter of Broadway actress Vivienne Miller. Miss Miller, seventeen, was reported as a runaway two months ago by her legal guardians, Victoria and Kenneth Larson, with whom she’d been living since her father, Gabriel Miller, died in a motor vehicle accident. Mr. Vault is considered a person of interest in the disappearance of Miss Miller’s brother Remiel, fifteen, and the Larsons’ daughter Jennifer, also fifteen. The two teens were reported missing three weeks ago. At the time of Mr. Vault’s arrest, Miss Miller was found on the Vault estate in questionable physical condition. She is believed to be suffering from a condition similar to Stockholm syndrome.
Something in the article triggered a stream of coherent thoughts and memories. The media could not have possibly known of Gavin’s arrest, unless it had all been planned, leaked on purpose.
When I tell them, when I finally answer their questions, it’s not gonna be good. They thought I was protecting Gavin, that I was his victim somehow. What would they say when I told them what really happened? What would Mom think?
My stomach churned as I took the last sip of the liquid they proudly called “coffee.” The door to the interrogation room swung open, seemingly on its own, and stayed that way. A feeling of dread covered me as I stood to throw the