The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter twenty-three.

POLICE STATIONS HAVE always been my worst nightmare. Right now though, they don't seem so bad in comparison to the cage I've been stuck in.

"The paramedics strongly suggested you go to the hospital. Are you sure we can't take you there?" Detective Clark asks.

"I'm fine," I tell him quietly, though I glance at Viktor with concern. His bullet wound was never treated, and he shied away from letting the paramedics take his shirt off. I'll make sure he sees a doctor before the end of the day.

"We've got people digging in the woods now for the bodies you told us about," the detective says, motioning for me to sit on the other side of the table from him. He keeps staring at me for oddly long periods of time. I suppose I probably look absolutely terrible after my ordeal, but his stare is making me antsy.

Viktor seems to sense my unease, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. Steady, warm, comforting. My muscles unbind slightly.

"I just need to ask you a few more questions," Detective Clark explains, opening his laptop and typing for a moment. "Is uh..." He glances back over at me, eyebrows furrowing.

I shift uncomfortably and push my hair back from my face, feeling grimy and gross.

"You're her," the detective abruptly says, his eyes widening inch by inch.

A sudden stab of panic flies through me. What petty crime does he have me down for? Shoplifting? Solicitation? Fraud?

"I'm not," I say.

"You are." He's typing on the computer quickly now, determined to find whatever it is he's looking for. "Here!" He spins the laptop around to face me, and my eyes go wide.

The screen shows a missing persons flier. A picture of my young, preteen-self, a short description of what I was wearing the last time I saw my parents—red t-shirt and jeans—and my name. My old name.

Gabriella Pérez.

I stare and stare till my eyes water from not blinking.

"I don't..." I shake my head, unable to find the words to finish that sentence.

"Your parents came in here...God it was over a decade ago now. They were distraught. Begged me to find you, but runaways? Not exactly high on our priority list. I only remembered you because..." The detective stopped then, his mouth pressing into a line. "Well, it was real sad, what happened to them. Terrible accident. I kept looking for you; I wanted to find you for them. I never stopped looking, I swear."

"What accident?"

His eyebrows draw down. "You don't know?"

There is a lump in my throat, tears burning at my eyes, a sadness coiled inside of me so tightly that I feel it may burst at any moment. "I didn't even know they looked for me," I choke out.