I yawn as I run the script again. My vision is starting to blur, I’m that exhausted. The hours we’ve been spending at the office in the last couple of weeks are unreal, and it isn’t even enough. We’re nearly at the finish line, though. The project is nearly done.
I rise from my seat and head toward the coffee machine, needing something to keep me awake. I place my cup in the machine and mindlessly press the buttons. At this point. I don’t care what type of coffee it is, though I suspect muscle memory will result in yet another double espresso. I don’t even like coffee that isn’t mostly sugar, but I’m desperate. I worked through the night last night, and though I know the sun has since risen, I have no clue what time it is. Early morning, I guess.
I scroll through my phone as I wait for my coffee, tensing when I see the update on the Nemesis Platform. My eyes widen as I read through the additional information about the rape case we were struggling to find any evidence on. I didn’t think we’d be able to crack it, considering how little we had to go on. Looks like the victim, Ida, came forward with information she’s been keeping a secret for decades.
I read through the logs over and over again, but the report doesn’t change. The rape didn’t just result in lifelong trauma… it also resulted in a child. A child that she claims was left in a church.
My heart starts to race, and I scroll back up, reading through the report one more time. I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m not sure I believe in fate, but I certainly don’t believe in coincidences.
My hands are shaking so badly that typing takes me minutes rather than seconds. I’m operating almost entirely on auto-pilot, my mind scared to make the connection. I’m in such a weird detached state I barely realize what I typed, until I receive a reply, a confirmation.
I don’t even recall asking to meet Ida in person, yet I’m staring at a meeting confirmation. She tells me she’s grateful for my help, and that she’s finally ready to tell someone her story. But am I? Am I ready?
I straighten my shoulders, forcing myself to get it together. Just because life has always let me down doesn’t mean it’s the case now too. Maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong.
I walk to my desk, a cold chill running down my spine, as though my subconscious is warning me as much as my brain is. I glance into Grayson’s office. He’s been working as hard as I have, but neither of us has minded it, because we’ve been going home together every night. We’ve been working late on the sofa, just the two of us. Every morning, we wake up together. The happiness we found together made everything bearable.
But is it strong enough to withstand this? If what I suspect is true, would Gray be okay? I drag my gaze away from him and grab my bag, making my way out of the office before he notices. I walk past Riley, but something in my expression must have warded him off because he frowns and looks away, though I notice the tinge of worry in his eyes.
My mind is carefully blank as I walk to the diner Ida told me she works at. Five blocks. She works five blocks from our office. I’ve been here before. With Gray.
My stomach is churning by the time I walk in. My hands are trembling, and I clench them together, forcing myself to stay calm. I might be wrong. I might be wrong about all of this. I need to know before I say anything to Gray.
I walk to one of the empty booths and sit down before my legs give in yet again. I see one of the waitresses eye me nervously, and I swallow hard. Those eyes. I know those eyes.
My heart sinks when she walks up to me, my eyes dropping to her name tag. “Ida,” I say, smiling tightly.
She nods and sits down opposite me. “You must be Nyx,” she murmurs, her voice soft. I nod tersely as I take her in. The familiarity guts me, and I pray I’m seeing things. Maybe I’m just tired, maybe my brain is playing tricks on me… because it sure looks like she has the same nose as Gray, the same eyes.
“Thank you for coming,” she tells me. “Thank you for offering your help. You have no idea how many times I’ve been close to giving up… on everything. The thought that he walks freely, maybe even doing what he did to me to other women… Nyx, I can’t sleep at night. It’s coming up to thirty years. If I don’t speak up now, I never will.”
I nod and reach over the table to grab her hand. “Tell me as much as you can. Tell me the things you left out of your initial report. I’ll do what I can to give you the justice you deserve.”
She places her other hand on top of mine, gripping tightly. She nods, determined, but I see the pain in her eyes. Even her expressions are so much like his.
“George was a fellow church-goer. He seemed like a lovely fellow, and for a while, my parents considered him a potential suitor.”
I nod, motioning for her to continue. Ida gulps and looks away, her eyes filling with tears.
“My parents had almost finalized our union… but then I fell in love. I fell for a childhood friend that had just returned from his studies, and when we met again, we knew that was it.”
My ears are ringing as I listen to her story. I’m dreading what I know is coming, and I hate myself for it. I’m not the one that lived through this. If Ida can be brave, then so can I.
“My parents gave Jameson and me their blessing, and we were to be married within the year. I was the happiest I’d ever been, Nyx. Come to think of it, I believe it’s the happiest I’ve ever been, because every moment after that became a living nightmare. George heard of my impending nuptials, and he asked to meet me. He said it was to get closure, to see me one last time. I was young and foolish. I felt guilty, knowing how much he’d wanted to marry me, so I agreed. I never should have.”
Ida pulls her hands away and wraps her arms around herself, her gaze on the window beside us. “Jameson wasn’t happy that I was meeting George, but he trusted me. Besides, George asked to meet me at a restaurant we’d been to before, so I didn’t think much of it. I showed up, and I remember him standing there, a chilling smile on his face. Even then, I felt like something was wrong, but I was more concerned with politeness than I was with my own safety. I should’ve known better. The last thing I remember was finishing the cocktail he’d ordered me. Shortly after that, everything went black. When I woke up again, I was chained to his bed.”
A tear runs down her face and she swallows hard in an attempt to keep her sobs at bay. “He kept me there all night, telling me he had rights to me, because I should’ve been his. He said he’d show me what I’d be missing, and that I’d be his whether I liked it or not. He told me Jameson would never look at me again once he was done with me, and I’d end up choosing to marry him instead.”
She wipes away her tears, her eyes falling closed. “I ended up passing out eventually, my body hurting in so many ways. When I woke up again, I was alone. I got out of there as quickly as I could, wishing to leave it all behind me. I didn’t dare tell my parents, and I certainly didn’t dare tell Jameson. I knew he’d never marry me if he found out, and I was desperate to pretend like nothing happened, like I wasn’t damaged goods. So I stayed quiet. Until I couldn’t. Until I started throwing up every morning, and my mother sat me down to ask me if I could be pregnant.”
I try my hardest to keep my expression neutral, but my heart is breaking. Her case was bad enough as it is, but this? This is unfathomable.
“I told my mother everything, hoping she’d save me somehow. Instead, my parents sent me to my grandmother in the countryside, to hide out as my body started to change. You see, we were very religious, so abortion wasn’t an option, especially not in those times. My parents didn’t even allow me to give Jameson an explanation, and I was miserable. I had no way to reach him, no way to explain. All the while, the baby grew inside me, reminding me I could never go back to the life I once had.”
A tear falls down her cheek and her eyes fall closed. She inhales shakily, and when she looks at me, her gaze is pleading.
“My father took my son from me days after birth, and he refused to tell me where my child went. It wasn’t until he was on his deathbed that he told me. He said he took the baby to the same church George and I met at, the church that resulted in my downfall.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes. “I can’t get back the life I envisioned for myself, Nyx. But I do want justice. Please, help me. Help me find my baby. Help me with this case.”
I nod and take out my tablet, shutting my brain off as best as I can while she gives me every detail I might need to track down her child.
I didn’t need to, though.
I knew the second she gave me the church’s address.
