His upper lip curled in a sneer. “I would’ve been able to do that for you, but I was in prison. They kept me away from you.”
When I’d first seen him, I’d worried that he was mentally incapacitated somehow and that whatever he did would have lighter consequences after a psychological evaluation. He had light in his eyes now, and I could see it was an act he’d perfected over the years.
Knowing that there was security in the house that would be recording it, I tested my theory.
“But it’s him I’m going to marry, not you. He’s a good man, not a rapist and murderer—”
“And pedophile,” Remy muttered loud enough for Orson to hear.
And that was when he lost his shit, thrashing around to get out of the chair he was tied to.
“You’re mine. You were always meant to be mine.”
“This is the guy who has Elijah so worried?” Webb muttered, scratching his head. The action wasn’t dramatic or sarcastic, he was genuinely perplexed.
“I’ve heard of crimes of passion, but this guy’s just obsessed,” Remy noted, squatting down in front of him but leaving enough distance between them that he wouldn’t get kicked or headbutted if Orson tipped over. “Yo, Riley, let me help you distinguish between possession and love. You can love someone, but they can’t become a possession of yours for you to keep for your own sick pleasure. You also can’t go around raping women, attacking them, and playing out your fantasies.”
Then, standing up, he leaned in closer to him. “I’ll also tell you what you can’t do—leave your country when you’re out on parole. The law doesn’t like that, and it really doesn’t like men killing women and preying on fifteen-year-old girls. If I were you, I’d hope I got extradited to England, but here’s where I become your worst nightmare. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen and that you get tried and sent to prison here. Then I’m going to get word to all of the inmates in the prison you’re sent to and let them know you tried to rape an adolescent.”
Orson was panting now, whether through fear or anger still, as he watched Remy wide-eyed.
“The British government won’t—”
“Do shit,” Marcus snapped, moving around to stand behind his friend. “Maybe if you hadn’t murdered someone they’d accept you back to do some more time there, but you fucked up killing Shonelle.”
Unaware that it was all being caught on camera, regardless of whether it would be admissible or not, Orson said clearly and with pure hatred, “I’d kill her again. She wasn’t good enough to breathe the same air as Sadie. All she did was say things about her and wish harm on her, so where was the crime?”
“In the murder,” Remy replied bluntly. “And in what you did the first time around. But whereas Sadie is now free of her nightmares that you caused, yours have just begun.”EpilogueElijahI’d hardly slept last night because my brain refused to switch off long enough to allow me even an hour.
After everything had gone down with Orson and he’d been arrested, Sadie had started therapy to help put the pieces that’d been left behind into perspective. He was in jail awaiting a trial date, but because he’d confessed to murdering Shonelle during his interview, the British authorities weren’t requesting his extradition back. He’d be serving out his sentence here, where Remy could make good on his promise to him, especially after the shit he found in his emails after he managed to get into them.
I’d attended a couple of sessions with Sadie, but I struggled to open up to a stranger who was analyzing everything I said, so now I was focusing on a technique called Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to get me through it. The problem was, there was only so much distraction could do to get me through it. For the rest, I had to take action and resolve them, or they’d have continued to eat away at me.
That’s why I’d driven to Cooper’s parent’s house to tell them the consequences of the information they’d given away to a stranger. They’d seen the news reports on what’d happened, but they hadn’t put two and two together until I turned up and laid it all out for them.
I could understand lashing out at someone because of grief. I didn’t condone it, but I could understand it and had taken it from them. But giving out my address to someone, no matter who it was who’d called and how innocent she’d sounded—no one had the right to do that, and the consequences had almost been enormous. When they’d found out that Sadie was my fiancée and pregnant, they’d been devastated. I wasn’t giving them my forgiveness and acceptance this time, though. They’d willfully put her and the baby’s lives at risk, and there was no coming back from that.