But in this world where money talks louder than honor? Louder than truth?
It’s going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than that.
After several minutes of debating, we decide to go to the police with our story despite the risks. We have to at least try.
Before we head out, the guys grill me with questions, trying to get me to remember as much as possible to build a rock solid case against Alan. Reagan’s involvement will have to be mentioned to explain a lot of things, but I’m determined to keep the focus on the real monster here, the man who abducted me not once, but twice.
By the time we pull up to the small police station that’s about ten minutes away from the university, I’ve had too much coffee and not enough sleep. There wasn’t enough time to sleep, and even if there was, I’m positive I couldn’t sleep right now—not knowing that Alan is still out there, pissed as shit that I’m complicating his life and probably plotting some way to kidnap me again and kill me.
Leading the way, I take a deep breath as we head into the station. The secretary behind the desk cocks an eyebrow, glancing over our group.
“May I help you?” she asks.
“Yeah. I’m here to file a police report,” I tell her, ignoring the way her eyes linger on my bruises and the tattoos popping out from beneath my shirt sleeves. “I was abducted.”
She clicks her tongue. “Name?”
“Sophie Wright,” I say, irritated by her lack of concern. “I’d like to file a report on the man who kidnapped me. I’d like something to be—”
“ID, please.”
I fish the card out of my wallet and slide it over on the desk. She takes it and spins around in her chair, moving to the copier machine behind her desk. She doesn’t say a word to us as she scans it, then brings it back to me.
“I’ll have an officer talk to you about filing a report,” she says, handing me a stack of papers on a clipboard. “It’ll just be a small wait, if you could fill these out, please.”
I take the papers from her, leaving her with a small thanks as we find seats in the waiting room. The papers take no time to fill out, and by the time I’m handing them back to the secretary, a door swings open and an officer steps out.
“Are you Miss Wright?” he asks, looking at me. He’s young, maybe in his mid-thirties, very slightly balding. When I nod, he gestures for me to follow him, taking the papers from the secretary on his way. “You’re here to report a kidnapping?”
Even though he only wanted to talk to me, the guys and Max follow close behind, ignoring the look that the officer gives them. Maybe it’s not routine to bring so many people back, but I’m guessing the cop recognizes the Sinners. He must know how well connected their families are, and for better or for worse, that buys them a different kind of treatment.
Fuck. The influence of wealth and power is playing into our favor right now. But that exact same thing will work against us when it comes to trying to make Alan pay for the shit he’s done.
The cop leads us into a cramped room. It’s completely empty aside from a table and three chairs. He takes one of them, and Max and I take the other two. Glancing over the paperwork one more time, he reaches for an ancient tape recorder, makes his own statement, then turns to me.
“Sophie Wright making a statement about her kidnapping,” he says. “Sophie, please tell me what happened.”
I take a short breath and tell him everything I know. As the guys and I discussed earlier in the kitchen at Declan’s place, I try to keep things as brief and factual as possible, sticking only to what I know.
Reagan kidnapped Max to lure me into the woods. We fought, and then I woke up in the bunker.
Then Alan Montgomery showed up.
When I mention that name, the officer shifts nervously but doesn’t say anything. When my story ends, he makes a few notes, then runs through a series of questions.
What time?
Where?
What else do you remember?
How did you escape?
Do you have a history with Alan Montgomery?
When I’m done answering his questions and Max has taken her turn describing what she knows, the officer turns to Gray as if deciding that he’s the leader of the group. “You were there when she was abducted, correct?” he asks. “In the woods?”
“We were trying to get Max to safety when Sophie was kidnapped,” Gray snaps. “So yes, we were there.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Yes. As Sophie said.” His jaw clenches irritably, and if he were sitting next to me and not Max, I’d slip a hand under the table to calm him. “We all saw a masked person, who later turned out to be Reagan Hawking. Just like Sparrow—Sophie—told you.”
“She fought with me and knocked me out,” I interject. I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, and I have no interest in trying to save Reagan’s ass. But I need Alan to be the main focus here. “Alan Montgomery kidnapped me. She helped him.”
“And why didn’t you call the police in the first place?” The cop, whose name tag bears the words “Detective Banning,” looks at all of us skeptically, ignoring my last remark. “Why didn’t you call when you first noticed your friend”—he points to Max—“was missing? And then afterward, why did you wait to notify us about Miss Wright being kidnapped?”
“Look.” Gray leans forward, his expression steely. “We didn’t want to get the police involved too soon and scare whoever took Sophie into acting rashly and killing her or something.” His voice goes rough. “As we now know, Alan was planning on killing her. He would’ve done it if she hadn't escaped.”
The officer crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me. “You’re sure about this?”
Yes, I’m fucking sure.
I want to shout the words in his face. I want to grab him and shake him until he stops acting so bland and bored by all of this. Instead, I answer calmly, “I’m absolutely sure about what I saw. I’m sure about what Alan said to me. I wouldn’t just make shit up like this.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Detective Banning says. He glances down at his notes. “You’ve got a solid accusation here. Your report is detailed, your stories line up, and you haven’t contradicted yourself at all.”
Then why don’t I feel like you believe me?
“We’ll look into it when we get the chance,” he concludes, picking up my folder and standing up.
What? No!
I don’t have to turn around to see Gray square his shoulders, straightening up to his full height. He doesn’t like it any more than I do, and he’s not going to let this shit fly.
“No, you’ll check it out right now,” he says, leaning forward. “If you believe Sophie, then you’ll check it out right now. I don’t care about bullshit excuses, I don’t care about the well-connected people who get priority.”
The ones who make bargains or payoffs to ensure that officers turn a blind eye or misplace evidence. The ones who use their massive wealth and power to amass more wealth and power, making sure that people like me are ignored no matter what we say. The system here is screwed, and unfortunately, I know that without Gray’s help, I’d probably make no progress.