Page 19 of Speechless
“Can’t stop me, little brother. Obstruction of justice, impeding an officer of the law. I have a right to carry out my sworn duty as sheriff.”
Wanted to play that game, did he? Well then, two could play. “It’s my duty to protect her during her recovery and rehabilitation. Jenna’s not physically or mentally capable of undergoing an interrogation. She’s essentially mute and therefore unable to answer any of your questions. The officer of the law obstructed himself by acting like an asshole on their first meeting and terrifying her, compounding that fear with this stunt. I’ll stand in a court of law and testify to that if you take it that far.”
“I have a duty—”
“Let me do my fucking job, Cal. Regardless of what you think of me, I’m a damn good doctor. Any information she volunteers will be passed to you immediately. I’m not blocking justice. More than anything, I want justice for that poor girl. Right now, she needs to heal and rest, so you tell me what you need and then you get the fuck out of my house.”
Caleb’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Fingerprints, DNA, photographs.”
Thinking of what he had to do the following morning, Connor nodded. Everything Cal required could be gathered while Jenna was under sedation. It would ease the stress of being prodded and poked, of being in the crosshairs of the camera. “She’s undergoing a procedure in the morning if I can convince her. Sarah will let you know when Jenna’s under; you can collect what you need then.”
His brother’s eyes sharpened. “What procedure?”
“Some of her wounds are badly infected and require extensive treatment. It won’t be pleasant, so I’ll need to sedate her. Her body can’t handle stress at the moment, and her emotional state is fragile.”
“Did you do a rape kit?”
“During the initial exam. Sarah should have sent the swabs to the lab, but all the evidence points to negative for sexual assault.” It was easier to talk shop than continue the feud. “The examination is on tape. You could get snapshots off that, but Jenna looked completely different after a shower. I want to document the wounds again anyway, so I’ll take identification pictures at the same time.”
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take the tape with me, get in touch with the lab. I’ll be here at ten a.m., Connor, so don’t keep me waiting.”
“I don’t run on your timetable, Cal.”
“Don’t suppose you do.” The sheriff stalked toward the stairs, then turned and faced his younger brother, eyes hard. “I will find out who she is, Connor, and her family will come for her. Don’t pull this possessive shit when the time comes—it won’t fly. She’s not yours any more than she was the sick fuck’s who did this to her.”
Connor snarled as Cal stomped down the stairs. Who the fuck did he think he was? He knew his place in Jenna’s life, knew his presence was fleeting. A steppingstone between the hell she’d lived and the promise of a future where she rightfully belonged.
When the time came, he would let her go.
*
The stupid little cunt had ruinedeverything.
The perfect system, twenty years in the making, on the verge of being destroyed by the one slave he’d actually kept months longer than he should have. Not because he’d had a soft spot for her, no. Because she’d adapted so well to the life he forced upon her.
So well, in fact, he’d chosen her over the two replacements he’d taken to train in her place. Simpering little nitwits, crying and snotting all over the damn place. Unwilling to learn, to educate themselves from useless citizens of a society gone mad into productive, nameless cogs of a silent wheel.
They hadn’t even deserved to be assigned a number. When he’d raped them, choked the life from their worthless bodies, he hadn’t been able to bask in the usual pleasure he felt when disposing the current number. Fucking and killing them had been…a chore. Not unlike taking out the trash.
But Twenty-Two…oh, Twenty-Two. In all his years of selecting and rehabilitating young females into his program, none other had fulfilled his objectives like she had.
It had taken several beatings, of course. The initial adjustment period often consisted of restructuring the way they thought, how they viewed themselves within the infrastructure of the human hierarchy. Those with self-esteem issues were the easiest to train, their minds welcoming the hand of command.
He’d had a few with illusions of grandeur fueling their anger, fear, outrage. Only half a dozen since the start, but they hadn’t lasted long. Their reticence had sparked his ire, and his ire was a deadly force.
Twenty-Two had been his greatest success. Such a pretty little thing when he’d stolen her from a mall in Colorado. He hadn’t intended to take her, hadn’t prepared for her. He’d been quite happy with the progress Twenty-One was making, but then Twenty-Two walked up to him in the mall, given him a shy look out of delightful green eyes and a soft smile as she offered him the wallet he’d dropped from his back pocket.
Visions of what emotions he could make shine in those beautiful eyes had made him hard. Eyes truly were the window to the soul, and he’d found pain could turn them into stained glass. So many colors, so many shades and increments.
He’d snatched her on her way to the parking garage, without knowing anything about her. Not his usual style, but no matter. The moment she was secured in his trunk, nothing of her old life was of consequence. Luck had proven she was meant to be his; providing him the shortest window of time to whisk her away from her previous existence, locating her car in one of the few areas of the garage not policed by parking guards and CCTV cameras.
And now the sneaky little bitch had done the unthinkable and run.
The man who called himself Sire paced agitatedly in front of the fire burning in the hearth. Never had any of his projects had the nerve to attempt to flee—he would have broken the legs of any who tried.
Twenty-Two had disappointed him, severely. Discovering her absence had perplexed him at first, then invoked his ire to such an extent he couldn’t remember the two hours following the realization she was gone. When he’d come back to himself, he found the broken body of what should have been Twenty-Three. The dark-haired adolescent was…unrecognizable.
It would take religious cleaning to get the stains from her internal organs out of the carpet, and now he had no one to do the cleaning. Just something else to lay at Twenty-Two’s feet. When he found her, and he would find her, she would wear the marks of her penance for months before he made her train the next in line.